Chapter Text

Trivial Tales.

A series of stories about a former Goddess of War and a mysterious boy that claimed to be another forgotten deity just like her, but never revealed what exactly he used to represent.

~~o0o~~

Toska.

Toska (n.) 1/ A feeling of maddening dissatisfaction and an insatiable searching. 2/ A distinctly Russian emotion: a “dull ache” of the soul, “a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness.” (Origin: Russian)

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A long, long time ago, when papers hadn’t been invented, and people told tales by whispering words and sharing anecdotes, there was a story about a short-haired girl with tanned skin, sharp eyes that could cut through one’s soul, and was a skilled warrior that could take down a whole company – or even a battalion – all by herself.

She was the powerful War Goddess. Or at least, that’s what she used to be.

She was once a muse, but her aspect of influence was War. Back then, when conflicts among various races happened frequently, military tactics were praised as art, and generals were considered artists on the battlefield, she was put on a pedestal by all the rigorous followers who wanted to be blessed with her strength and brutality.

But now, people rushed toward peace’s side, and she suddenly was no longer needed. Her followers died without the next generation to inherit their legacy, and slowly but gradually, she was forgotten.

When wars were no longer considered an art, and people feared the sight of battle and blood more than worshipped those, she found herself no longer hearing the prayers from her admirers, and her shrines were destroyed as time faded by. Wars were looked down upon, frowned upon, and avoided at all costs.

Suddenly, she was all alone.

Her power remained the same, but her existence was no longer well-known as before.

That didn’t affect her much, though, because she was still as indifferent about the world as to how she was in the past. She neither enjoyed all the killing and bloodshed nor found the new peaceful atmosphere unbearable – just perpetually boring, that’s her final conclusion after two decades of living with the new situation.

~~o0o~~

Duyên.

Duyên (n.) a predestined affinity; the force that binds two or more people together, usually as friends or lovers, in the future. (Origin: Vietnamese)

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She met another person like her after one century, one decade, and three years. She didn’t count down on months and weeks and days because time started to become meaningless when you had an immortal life and nothing else to do.

It was a male, or to be more exact, a teenager-looking male. A boy, even though she knew that he couldn’t really be as young as his appearance suggested.

Platinum white hair, mismatched eyes – one sapphire blue and one amethyst purple, fair skin, chiseled facial features as if those were carved into marble by dexterous hands of the most talented sculptor. A delicate figure, slender arms and legs, a lithe body that was agile and sparkled with vitality.

The boy possessed such a stunning beauty that could hypnotize any mortal dared to even glance at him, but since she’s a goddess and she didn’t care much about how someone looked, his appearance never did much to her.

He seemed surprised at first, probably wasn’t used to seeing someone who didn’t fall under the bewitching spell of his alluring beauty – one which was usually cast passively on people who weren’t even aware of it. But then his perplexity quickly melted into a pleasant satisfaction when he smiled at her.

“War.”

Just one single word, but was enough for her to recognize what a euphonious voice he had. If his look alone wasn’t enough to enchant someone, then his voice could certainly get the work done. It’s soft, melodic, with an intangible aura of ethereal, musical harmony. The boy just needed to open his mouth to speak, and all Heaven and Hell would fall over themselves to give him whatever he wanted.

She still had no clue who he was, though.

“You are?”

“A deity, just like you,” he chuckled, and she reaffirmed that yes, his voice was indeed spellbinding. Too bad that it did nothing to her. “Of which, that isn’t important.”

Not like she cared. Shrugging nonchalantly, she replied. “Sure.”

A moment of silence passed. He scrutinized her with those mismatched eyes, amusement brimming in captivating irises. “You’re not curious?”

“Should I?”

“Not gonna tell you how you should react,” the boy mimicked her nonchalant shrug. “It’s hard to explain my realm of power in just a few words, after all.”

She nodded. “You said it wasn’t important.”

“For someone who won’t fall under my domain, yes,” the white-haired boy chuckled. “You just happen to be one of those few.”

“Must be something trivial, then,” she decided before hearing all his explanation, ignoring the dirty look he threw at her. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Well, that’s one way to put it,” the glare softened into a condescending glance, the boy scoffed. “People don’t need to know of my existence for my powers to work on them, after all.”

She nodded at the given information without making a comment, and that’s how their first conversation ended.

…

Till the end, she never figured out what exactly the boy represented.

That wasn’t important, anyway. Because at least she found someone who could see her, who was willing to talk with her and understood the perpetual boredom of immortal life with no ulterior or ultimate motive.

A life that sometimes even existing was still too much to tolerate, but there was no way to escape that hollow void of emptiness that residue deep down into one’s soul, eating away all the will to live little by little.

She neither was being suicidal nor wanted to kill herself – but she did wish if only things could have been that simple. And she was glad that the boy shared the same resentment toward the ugly world they used to be beings of worship because at least they could hate it together.

She admitted that it was better than carrying the sentiment all alone.

~~o0o~~

After a few visits and casual conversations, they sort of became acquaintances.

She didn’t know why the boy kept seeking her out, or how he could know her whereabouts, but secretly inside, she welcomed the interactions that she didn’t realize she was craving for after years and decades of being alone.

The boy wasn’t exactly a great conversationalist. Sure, his look was beautiful to stare at, his voice was soothing to hear, and he was overall charming and bewitching, but his mind… it was disastrous, to put it lightly. Every single thought or idea he shared with her could be categorized into one of those folders: interesting, concerning, worrisome, and disturbing. Sometimes it could even be a mix of all.

Or at least, that’s how a normal person would sort those. But her? She couldn’t care less about how strange his thoughts were. She was once the epitome of War, and many, many disturbing, horrifying things happened in wars that a lot of people didn’t dare to speak of. She was no stranger to terrifying ideas, because reality was surely much, much more crueler than mere imagination.

The boy seemed to understand that too, hence why he had no consideration when talking about that kind of stuff with her. Or maybe he’s just tactless in general, she couldn’t tell. The only thing she remembered about him was that he’s exceptionally beautiful, and that said something already because she’s terrible at memorizing people’s faces and all.

Some of their interactions at the beginning were just like this: he went to see her, talking about his ideas, and she just listened, sometimes making a few nonchalant comments. They were both content with that, but soon, the boy would demand her to engage more in their conversations.

In some next encounters, he would invite her to do things with him, which she sometimes agreed and sometimes declined, depending on her mood that day. The boy was cool with that, whichever her reaction was, he just smiled and never pushed further. That’s what she liked about him to decide that it’s worth keeping him around to see which kind of surprise he would bring to her next time.

~~o0o~~

Keyframe.

Keyframe (n.) a moment that seemed innocuous at the time but ended up marking a diversion into a strange new era of your life.

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“We should get ourselves a name.”

On a day without any particular event to remember, he told her as they watched billows of clouds fleeting over the sky, both lying lazily on a newly sprouted bed of grass and flowers.

“For what?” She didn’t mind being nameless. Nobody has ever called her directly as something personal like a name for millennia, why should she bother now?

“I don’t like to keep referring to you as ‘that girl’ or something along the line,” the boy snickered. “Bet that in your mind, I’m just ‘the boy’ or anything similar.”

“I don’t really think about you that much,” she leisurely replied, rolling over to put two arms on the ground so she could push her upper body up on her elbows. “Why now?”

And why did he need to refer to her? Has he been talking with someone else besides her?

Ah, not that important, though. He wasn’t hers, to begin with, and she had no desire to form a personal relationship with this boy. He wasn’t even suitable as ‘friend material’ as something the mortals would call, with all the wickedness and cunning he possessed.

“No specific reason,” his voice was thin of patience now, but she’s used to how quick-tempered he was, so she didn’t feel alarmed by it. His anger could be dangerous to someone else, not her. “Just think it would be nice to hear someone call me by a name that I like.”

“Have you had one already?”

She hasn’t had a name before. Not that she was upset or particularly cared about it. A name was just a name, one could live perfectly without it when there were no interactions with others required for them to exist.

“Not that I remember of,” his voice was distant, mixing with a bit of melancholy. Sometimes he would get like that, so wistful and spiritless all of a sudden as if there was something tragic that happened in his past that he wished to never talk about, but it still traumatized him till this day. “Any suggestions?”

“I’m terrible with names.”

She said, even though she knew he wouldn’t let the subject drop at that. As persistent and stubborn as he was, he would continue to bother her and try to push all her buttons to get the answers he wanted. Might as well give in as soon as she could so she didn’t have to endure all the nonsense.

“Duh,” he clicked his tongue then went quiet for a moment. “Let’s get you a name first.”

She felt no need to object to the idea. “Sure, go ahead.”

“How does Julian sound?”

She didn’t think for a second. “Good.”

“That’s the first thing that popped up in my mind,” he snorted, seeming both irritated and amused at how quickly she responded. “You really are satisfied with it?”

She turned her head to look at him, grey eyes reflected shiny sunlight gazing into his captivating eyes. “Sure.”

He blinked, and a soft smile graced his lips. “Well, then it’s settled. You’re Julian now.”

Such a small change, but it brightened his face and made him outshine even the most beautiful flower on the field. Sometimes she wondered why he wasn’t the God of beauty, because that fit him so well. But if that was the case, then he would forever be worshipped by many followers since people never grew tired of beauty.

“Julian,” she repeated, tasting the new name on the tip of her tongue. Nothing particularly remarkable, and it’s alright with her. “What about you?”

“I’ll be Marcus.”

He chuckled, and that’s decided.

Marcus never told Julian what their names meant. She never asked. Sometimes there were things so trivial that they didn’t worth more attention than what they’re already been given.

~~o0o~~

As once the Goddess of War, Julian was an expert in fighting and combat.

She just didn’t expect Marcus could hold his ground in a duel with her pretty well. He looked agile but fragile, pretty in a delicate way that it almost seemed like a violent movement could easily snap his wrist in half.

Except for the fact that it didn’t, and the white-haired boy fought like a trained warrior that had left his training unfinished to try new battle tactics on his own because he’s quite a wild card during combat. She couldn’t read his move, he’s unpredictable, and it fueled her on because it was too long since she had a worthy opponent to use up the excess energy that she didn’t know where else to dump on.

He managed to give her some bruises and a slash on her bicep, while she left some cuts and gashes on his porcelain skin. Those injuries would heal in no time and never leave a mark on their immortal bodies, so she didn’t feel guilty damaging such exquisite beauty. His grin had a faint hint of a sadistic streak, and it looked even prettier with the bloody trail on his cheek.

The duel ended up in a tie when they both unceremoniously decided to end the game and call it a day.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

Marcus commented, blood was still wet on his skin. She reached out one hand to touch the cut on his cheek, letting the red liquid smear her fingertip. He smirked at her when it dried out and turned into small petals of a flower that she didn’t know the name of.

“My blood can do many interesting things,” he claimed smugly, and she nodded with the newly gained information. “Bet that you wanna see the tricks it’s capable of.”

“I’ll need to make you bleed more often, then.”

He laughed at that, seeming genuinely amused. She allowed the corner of her lips to raise into a smile, feeling pleased with herself for the joke she just made.

~~o0o~~

Resplendence.

Resplendence (adj.) splendid or dazzling in appearance.

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Despite having a breathtakingly alluring appearance, Marcus didn’t seem to like it when random people complimented him on his look. Julian neither understood why nor bothered to find out the reason. The boy was a complicated, mysterious being, and she preferred to leave it at that.

“You’re pretty yourself, don’t you know that?”

He frowned when she casually mentioned it one day, out of boredom because she had nothing else in mind to talk about. His reply took her by surprise, she never cared about her appearance that much since most of what she valued in herself were her strengths and skills as a war expert.

“Have you ever looked at your reflection?” Marcus chuckled at the other’s stunned expression, flicking his wrist once to get a mirror out of nowhere to place it in front of her. “Here, take a look.”

She did as he said. Staring back at her was a face she knew she possessed but wasn’t too familiar with: short, choppy chocolate brown hair that barely reached her shoulders, a healthy tanned complexion, a pair of grey eyes that were so void of emotions that made her think she was looking at two bottomless abysses.

She blinked, and the other girl blinked back.

“I guess I look okay,” she shrugged, having no interest in continuing to stare at herself.

“You’re beautiful,” the boy corrected. “Your facial features are well-defined, your skin looks healthy, and your eyes have a calm, beautiful shade of grey. You also have an agile, slender but well-built body.”

Now she was staring at Marcus, and he just stared back. His mismatched eyes sparkled with stubbornness to prove that he was right, and suddenly she wanted to laugh out loud. He was the one who needed to look into a mirror, not her, because this boy was the most gorgeous being she’s ever met and he himself hated being complimented on his appearance. So ironic.

“What’s so funny?”

His voice was petulant with a hint of irritation. She did laugh out loud, arms clutching her abdomen when her peal of laughter echoed in the space around them, audacious and irreverent.

“Thanks for the compliment, I guess,” the laugh slowly died down to chuckles, Julian observed the boy’s expression with amusement in her eyes. “It means a lot coming from you.”

Marcus snorted. “I can’t decide whether that’s a praise or an insult.”

“Whatever you want it to be,” she tilted her head, twirling a strand on the side of her temple. “You’re an exquisite beauty, and you sure know that. Hearing you compliment others on their appearance feels quite unreal, you understand? Because you’re already the fairest of all, everything else pales in comparison with your attractiveness.”

His expression hardened a bit. “You know how much I hate it when people are too obsessed with how I look.”

“Which I’m not,” she shrugged. “Your beauty never does much to me, remember? The thing I like about you is how you’re able to keep up with me when we fight, and how tactless you are. Even though that doesn’t sound like good quality, I enjoy the brutal honesty you have.”

Her sudden confession seemed to take him by surprise this time. Marcus blinked, and she chuckled with the thought that she might just see a faint hint of blush dusted on his cheeks, and she smirked triumphantly because it’s the first time she’s seen him get flustered, even just slightly.

So flattering couldn’t touch his heart, but genuine compliment might make him temporarily lose his calm, collected façade? Ohh, this could be fun~

“Well, thanks,” he said, even though quite begrudgingly. “For the record, you’re insensitive to others’ feelings, too.”

“And you don’t even acknowledge their feelings, but I know you could recognize and analyze them pretty well.”

“Feelings are for the weak,” Marcus snickered, a faint tone of disdain in his voice. “Those are unnecessary for beings like us.”

“Can’t argue.”

Julian nodded, and they fell into a comfortable silence. She put one hand on her chest, feeling the rhythms of her calm, steady heartbeat.

Was it true that she really didn’t have any feelings there at all?

~~o0o~~

Lollygag.

Lollygag  (v.) to spend time in an aimless or lazy way.

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Julian didn’t know how Marcus convinced her to take a trip around the world with him, but that just happened. She didn’t have time to think about it thoroughly when all he did was just snap his fingers when she agreed with his suggestion and Voilà, they’re on a train heading to somewhere she couldn’t bother to find out.

At least that wasn’t a goddamn car, and she could tolerate sitting on this damned thing for a few hours. She hated cars more than any other means of transportation since she couldn’t bear the smell inside those things, it made her feel trapped and sick. Even the retired Goddess of War wasn’t invincible, Julian of course had her own weaknesses.

“The scenery is beautiful,” Marcus, on the other hand, seemed to not be affected at all by motion sickness, or whatever the mortals called it. He was sitting next to her, eyes glued on the transparent glass of the window. “Sometimes going out is fun.”

She hasn’t found this whole experience ‘fun’ yet but decided to not voice it out. After all, she would get better at the moment she stepped out of this goddamn train.

Around them, she could occasionally hear murmurs from people who were enchanted by Marcus’ ethereal beauty. For the purpose of ‘enjoying the trip’, they made themselves visible to the mortal eyes this time, and suddenly she saw the bewitching effect of the white-haired boy’s appearance everywhere.

He was always gorgeous, but somehow being underneath the sunshine and breathing in the same air with people who could actually see him made him look even more irresistible. Even when she’s unaffected by him, she still had eyes to observe the change.

Julian also hear people talking about her, too, saying she’s such a pretty girl but she couldn’t compare with the boy next to her (that’s a fact, and she shrugged it off because there’s nothing to feel upset about mere truth). Some even thought they’re a lovely couple, which she snorted at how absurd the idea was. She might look youthful, but Marcus looked like a teenager, and if they were really a couple, things might seem a bit scandalous.

Not to mention that there was zero chance that either of them might be interested in the other in a romantic way.

She has never ever experienced that kind of feeling, and she doubted that he had either. Marcus didn’t give off the vibe of someone who was capable of feeling anything remotely positive and sappy; and his sadistic streak was a mile long with a wide range of dangerous emotions, none of those was suitable for a healthy relationship.

Still, she liked having him around despite all odds, so there must be something about him that touched a soft spot in her.

“This landscape is spectacular, don’t you think?”

He said when they finally arrived at a destination that might be in his plan. She didn’t care, she was content that she could get out of the train and breathe in some fresh air, it felt so much better.

“Nice.”

She commented, vaguely impressed with what she was seeing.

They’re on top of a mountain, and in front of them was a vast space that seemed to be endless with no boundaries, a woven tapestry of the cities and forests – it’s a world without frontiers from above, land water and cloud. Extending one arm, she could almost feel the sky within the reach of her fingertips.

Still… “The train didn’t take us here.”

“Yeah, we stepped out of it and right into a teleportation door that I created.”

That explained the faint trace of magic accompanied the swirl of light she felt back then. It was so subtle that it went almost unnoticeable, but she had keen senses after years of practice.

“Why didn’t you just open the door from our previous location right to here?” There’s no way it could go beyond his ability, she knew how much he’s capable of.

“Traditional way brings more fun,” Marcus shrugged insouciantly as if it’s the only excuse he would provide for making her tolerate that five- or six-hour train ride.

Julian cracked her neck, then her knuckles. After relaxing some tense muscles, she lunged forward for an attack, easily capturing his neck with her bare hand.

“You’ve had enough fun,” she commented, her face was expressionless. “Now it’s my turn to get some, too.”

While her fingers were tightening around his throat, constricting his windpipe, the knowing, almost challenging smile blossoming on his lips was the only reaction he made. “As you wish.”

At the moment he should’ve collapsed due to the lack of oxygen if he was a normal human, the white-haired boy simply vanished into thin air.

He reappeared on her left side, which she immediately noticed thanks to his magical aura, and didn’t hesitate to make another attack. He dodged it with ease this time, blinking in and out of existence with flashes of white-ish blue energy.

Marcus was on full defense, and Julian was all offense. They’ve played the chasing game for an hour before she finally succeeded in pinning him down onto the ground. “No more teleportation.”

He blinked, eyes wide and innocent. “You want to walk all the way back?”

This damned little shit. “I’ll think about that later. Now I’m tired of you being everywhere in a blink of an eye. Try teleporting again and I’ll kill you.”

They both knew that was an empty threat. He couldn’t die that easily, she couldn’t kill him either.

He stared at her, blinking a few times. The corner of his lips slowly curved up, and then finally, he let out a peal of laughter.

The muscles on her face relaxed, and soon, she let go of his wrists and joined him laughing, too.

They sprawled across the field, both laughing like a pair of mad hyenas. A rush of exhaustion washed over her, but it felt so good to be that active, engaging for hours in her favorite kind of physical training, combat.

“Feel better after using up some excess energy?”

He asked, eyes twinkling with amusement. She pondered his words for a few seconds before deciding that yes, she felt so much better when the restlessness inside her before seemed to dissipate now. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Marcus commented with a surprisingly soft tone in his voice. She snorted lightly, if all of this was a circuitous and complicated way to show that he cared about her or something, it’s sure one of the strangest things she’s ever experienced because she didn’t think the white-haired boy was capable of caring for anyone, or anything.

It was also quite endearing, to be honest, but she would never admit it out loud.

Looking around, she noticed how the field and its vegetation cover were all ruined thanks to their fight. Trees were cut down, flowers were stomped on, grass was trampled over, some once green patches were burned with fire, the land which was a beautiful meadow just a few hours ago now looked hideous with all the damage it’s taken.

“This field looks ugly.”

She could hear his snort next to her. “We just destroyed it a few minutes ago, of course it wouldn’t look verdant and flourishing.”

“Fix it.”

She demanded. She didn’t feel remotely sorry for the catastrophe they’ve done to this place, but she disliked the sight of it now.

“Don’t wanna.”

His voice was laced with laziness. She sat up, staring at him pointedly. “If I water these plants with your blood, will they grow back quickly?”

“That would be a disastrous waste of resources.”

She drew her conclusion. “So it’s possible.”

“Why don’t we just make it rain?” He mumbled sluggishly.

“With your blood?”

Marcus clicked his tongue. “I can provide a few drops, that will be enough.”

“Do it then.”

Nodding her head, Julian made the final decision, even though she’s not gonna help with the magic. It’s not her strong suit, anyway. She was capable of performing some spells, but most of them were related to her domain of power, and growing plants was clearly not on the list of things related to the art of war.

Marcus didn’t even bother to sit up. He just lay there impassively, fingers stroking invisible lines in the air. Soon enough, billows of clouds around them were changing color, turning from lacy white-edged of cotton-candy-looking puffs into a silverish grey shade of storm, dark and sombre like a silently simmering anger.

He slit his palm open with a clean cut. Droplets of blood floating up from the wound, glowing with a captivating crimson garnet shade, dancing around before disappearing into the grey veil of heavy clouds.

Moments later, the rain was falling down, crystal clear and as cold as icy needles piercing through leaves, stems, the earthy ground underneath them, and everything else within its reach.

Julian extended one arm and held her palm upward, feeling the tingle sensation of sharp raindrops touching her skin, freezing but refreshing. A flowery scent was brought to her nose by the rain, fragrant and distinctive, different from every single flora she could recognize and distinguish in here.

Marcus’ blood smelled aromatic, she remembered that. The white-haired boy enjoyed causing turbulence and destruction, but his blood had the power of healing and revitalizing. What a paradoxical irony.

Soon enough, she could feel the plants around them were reviving under the magic of the rain. Leaves sprouting back to life, flowers re-blossoming, grass regrowing at a rapid speed to cover the vast area in an evergreen shade of verdant vitality.

“Look much better,” she commented, tilting her head to consider for a moment. “Prettier than before.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Marcus snorted, and she didn’t need to look to know he was rolling his eyes. She could feel the faint trail of his magical aura suddenly all over the space around them, and before she could ask what he’s planning to do this time, flowers efflorescing in a circle with her and Marcus as its center.

Julian observed her surroundings curiously. “Is this a fairy ring?”

“Those aren’t mushrooms,” he glanced at her with a pointed look. “You might call it a floral circle.”

She shrugged. “For what?”

The full question would be ‘Why did you make this?’, but they’ve known each other long enough to understand what the other meant with so few words being uttered.

“Looks pretty.”

Marcus replied, closing his eyes as a sign for ‘I want to temporarily end this conversation’.

She stared at him and all the flowers blossomed around. He was beautiful, she always knew that, but lying in a flowerbed of colorful blooms and florets made him look even more out of this world, more ethereal. The multicolored petals decorated those blossoms were splendid and dazzling, but they couldn’t outshine his aesthetics.

“Were you once the God of Beauty?”

She didn’t remember whether she’s asked this question before, but this seemed like a perfect opportunity to utter it out.

“That role is typically given to a Goddess.”

“And people usually worship God of War.”

Marcus’ voice had a hint of amusement now when the topic was diverted away from him. “Except for Athena. And Bellona. And some others that I can’t recall their names right now.”

“Aren’t those two one and the same, though?” Julian mused. Ah, they were once colleagues, if that was the right term to describe their relationship. She neither knew them in person before nor had any idea about their location and how were they doing now, though.

“Not really,” the white-haired boy opened his eyes, gazing at her with those captivating gemstones of mismatched irises of his. “Athena is Greek, while Bellona is Roman. The Romans associated Athena with Minerva, as she’s also the goddess of craft and weaving. Bellona is sort of their own patron goddess of War.”

“More?” Julian nodded, gesturing for him to continue. She knew that’s not all he had to say.

“Athena’s the goddess of wisdom, reasoning, and intelligence, too,” Marcus chuckled lightly, eyes looking up at the sky now was crystal clear and brilliantly blue. She didn’t notice when the rain stopped. “One of my favorites.”

That made her a little bit surprised. “Didn’t know you have favorites.”

“I don’t hate everything.”

“You don’t care about almost everything.”

“Well, can’t argue,” the white-haired boy let out a soft laugh. “I care about you, though. A bit.”

That she could conclude after analyzing his actions – he took her on a train ride to stir her up, then being a target for her to spend some excess energy, and even agreed to make it rain because she demanded – but hearing he admit it himself still felt different. “Wow, thanks.”

Marcus snorted. “Not much.”

“Still counts,” she grinned, looking straight into his eyes. “For the record, I also care about you. Not much, too.”

He chuckled at that, and they fell into a comfortable silence.

~~o0o~~