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grandmother-goblin · 4 months

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Apotheosis - Chapter 3

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Zilvira wakes up confused and disoriented in an unfamiliar bed in Sharess' Caress. Her memories are fuzzy, and she still doesn't want to deal with Halsin, but he's the only one there to fill in the gaps of the evening.

Relationships: Halsin x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 5.4k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of non-consensual drug use, awkward conversations, drow!Tav.

Notes: A big, huge, thank you to @tragedybunny for beta-reading! Also, thank you all for the lovely feedback on the previous chapters, I really appreciate it!

Consciousness came and went like glimpses of sunlight filtering between the dark clouds of a thunderstorm. Bright flashes of awareness, followed by silky shadows that cradled her back to sleep. It happened so many times — Zilvira swore she had opened her eyes only to open them again a few moments later.

Every time the darkness that clouded her thoughts faded away, déjà vu lingered in its wake.

Unfamiliar aches wracked her entire body, heavy and dull. Different than any sort of muscle soreness — icy discomfort pulsed through her veins and settled deep in her bones.

Her eyes burned behind her eyelids as if she had gone a tenday without rest. Her body craved sleep, but something in the back of her mind told her that she needed to wake up.

She needed to wake up and actually stay awake, rather than allow the shadows looming in her periphery to slink back in.

Despite her muddled state of mind, Zilvira knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t in her tent.

The pillow beneath her head wasn’t quite right. The surface against her aching back was nothing like the softness of her bedroll — cool cotton sheets rather than soft furs and the yarn of the blanket she had knitted herself.

The knitted blanket always smelled a bit like campfire smoke, tobacco, and Halsin’s herbaceous soap from all the nights they had sat with it draped over their shoulders while they warmed themselves by the fire. Though it felt weird to admit it even to herself, she liked that the blanket smelled like him — it reminded her of the night they watched bats flit across a blackened sky and he had wrapped his arm around her for the first time.

Gods, she needed to get him out of her head.

Even though she knew she wasn’t in her tent, she swore she could still smell Halsin’s tobacco. Though it was likely just her own imagination, the scent was still comforting.

Muffled chatter and the sounds of dozens of footsteps below told her that she was still in the brothel. The song the tiefling had been dancing to on stage played, making it difficult for Zilvira to tell how much time had passed.

She didn’t remember laying down, but she also didn’t remember leaving. Or taking the long walk back to camp. Though she had never blacked out from drinking, she assumed that she would have remembered something about leaving Wyrm’s Crossing and returning to Rivington.

Wouldn’t she?

Yet, her head felt fine — no signs of a hangover — so perhaps she hadn’t gotten as drunk as she thought.

She breathed in deeply, turning her focus on how the cool air flowed in through her nose, filled her lungs, and passed through her lips. In and out. Over and over until she felt she was no longer at risk for passing out again.

Blinking, her eyes quickly adjusted to an unfamiliar room bathed in the dim, orange, glow of lamplight. With a groggy groan, she tried to shift herself into a seated position, wincing with the effort.

“Easy, now,” a warm voice said from her left, and her heart nearly lept into her throat.

It took a moment, but her sluggish brain eventually registered the deep, thankfully familiar, voice: Halsin.

Of course it was Halsin. Why wouldn’t it be?

Just her luck. The one man she was trying to avoid, and he just happened to show up.

Halsin placed his hand on her lower back to steady her, helping her sit upright. “You’re safe,” he said gently, like soothing a wounded animal. “I’m still here.”

Still?

When she had gone to Sharess Caress, the only people who knew her whereabouts were Karlach and Wyll. In fact, she very intentionally made sure that Halsin wasn’t even in earshot when she told them where she was going because she had wanted to be alone.

One of them betrayed her, and when she found out who… she was going to drag their sorry ass to sunrise yoga after their next night watch. And she would not go easy on them.

Knowing Halsin the way she did, she knew he was probably itching for the opportunity to speak with her in private after the way she had avoided him. She knew he’d prefer to address problems head on rather than let the stew and ambiguity.

Normally, Zilvira would agree with that approach. She didn’t want things to fester but she still didn’t feel ready to face him.

She wasn’t ready to admit that she had fallen for him. Nor was she ready to deal with the embarrassment of his impending rejection. After she had been so certain the feeling between them was mutual, and only more pressing matters like the Shadow Curse stood in their way, she wanted to pretend just a little bit longer that it was possible he would accept her feelings.

Denial would only delay the inevitable, but it was far more comfortable than facing reality.

Nevertheless, she had no idea why Halsin was even here. The only place he should be is at camp with the others — not at a brothel. And certainly not alone with her with no distractions between them.

Halsin’s hand withdrew from the small of her back, settling atop the edge of the mattress as he crouched at her bedside. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his brow creased in concern over his soft hazel eyes.

When he looked at her like that, she wanted to tell him everything. So many times she had gotten lost in his eyes — how in the Hells was she supposed to get over him when he looked at her like that? Like she was someone that he cherished and adored and worried over?

Bitterly, she reminded herself she was simply reading into something that wasn’t there. She wasn’t special. He probably looked at everyone the way he looked at her, and her rose tinted glasses had blinded her to that crushing fact.

Zilvira rubbed her eyes. “Tired.”

“Just tired?”

She nodded.

A low hum rumbled in his chest as he seemed to consider her response, no doubt detecting that she was lying. “Are you able to recall what happened tonight?”

“Most of it, I think,” she replied, hoping he wouldn’t ask her to go into any details.

What was she supposed to tell him? That she remembered drinking wine and wallowing in self-pity while a topless tiefling danced on stage? Or that a handsome stranger in a Flaming Fist uniform decided that he wanted to try to chat her up?

No, Halsin didn’t need to know any of that.

Gods, she didn’t want to deal with being around Halsin right now. Not when she could barely form a coherent thought. If she wasn’t careful, she’d toss decorum out the window and spill all of her feelings toward him.

Or crying like a brokenhearted teenager.

Neither of them deserved that.

Halsin didn’t like her the way she liked him, and she needed to get over her feelings as quickly as possible.

The sooner she did that, the sooner the two of them could have a normal, professional, relationship.

After all, the only thing Halsin had promised was to help her with the parasite. Nothing more. She just had to change her way of thinking of him. How hard could it be to force herself to think of him as just a druid, or a healer, or a traveling companion instead of…. Halsin, the man she was almost certainly in love with.

She was so screwed.

Halsin’s expectant gaze weighed heavily on her, and Zilvira shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, hoping he would let the topic drop. “When did you get here?”

“About two hours ago. While you were having a conversation with that young man in the Flaming Fist uniform.”

Of course he saw that.

Heat rose to Zilvira’s cheeks. She drew her knees to her chest, as if trying to make herself smaller. “His name was Jack,” she replied simply. “He was telling me a bit about the city, that’s all.”

Sure, he was probably trying to get her into bed, but she didn’t need to mention that to Halsin. She knew before Jack even sat down at her table that nothing would come of their conversation, no matter how charming she found him. Her heart was still raw, and a bit of friendly conversation was all she really wanted.

Yet… she remembered Jack wrapping his arm around her… and offering to take her to his room.

And… had she agreed?

Oh gods, she had agreed to go with him, hadn’t she?

What in the Hells had she been thinking, going off alone with a complete stranger in an unfamiliar city?

Zilvira pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and tried to dig into her own memory, but she saw nothing but pockets of blackness and flashes of blurry faces.

She remembered hands on her, but she couldn’t remember who they belonged to. Had there been more than one person?

Voices echoed in the recesses of her mind, but that was all they were: echoes. Echoes with no distinction or source she could determine.

Maybe she had hit her head. Or maybe the Emperor or the tadpole had done something to mess with her mind — to erase her memories.

‘I did no such thing,’ the Emperor indignantly supplied the moment the thought crossed her mind.

Zilvira internally groaned.

She must have drank too much and blacked out. That was the only thing that made even a little sense, even if she didn’t feel all that intoxicated at the moment.

Gods, she probably made an ass of herself.

If she ever saw Jack again, she would have to apologize profusely for having been in such an intoxicated state. Perhaps once they got into the city, she could at least thank him for putting up with her.

A floorboard creaked as Halsin shifted his weight, breaking her train of thought. “Did Jack get you a drink?”

She shook her head.

No. She definitely remembered turning down the drink.

Halsin hummed in consideration, watching her face carefully as if he expected her expression to reveal some secret. “Do you remember me wildshaping?”

Zilvira shook her head again and swallowed dryly, unsure of how else to respond. That was something she would have remembered, wasn’t it? So why didn’t she?

What in the Hells happened to her?

With a heavy sigh, Halsin turned his head and cast his gaze downward. She had thought that he would be disappointed in her but instead he looked almost angry. Angry in the quiet way, as if he were trying his best to restrain it.

Her stomach sank when she noticed the discoloration, broken skin, and dried blood on Halsin’s jaw caught her eye. It was dark and swollen — very recent. How had she missed it?

Part of her wanted to reach out and at least brush his hair away from where blood had glued it to his cheek, but she swallowed the instinct. “What happened to your face?” she asked quietly.

A look of mild surprise crossed his face and he gingerly brought his fingers to his lower jaw, almost as if he didn’t know anything was there. Or he had forgotten.

Golden healing magic glowed around his hand as he traced along his jaw, and the swelling began to diminish in an instant. “In short,” Halsin said, “Jack threw a punch when I offered to walk you home.”

“What? Why?” Zilvira sat up straighter and immediately felt a bit dizzy. “But — that doesn’t make sense. Why would he…?”

A deep frown pulled at his lips as the magic around his fingers shimmered away. After the briefest hesitation, he rested his hand on top of hers as his eyes grew as serious as she had ever seen them. “Zilvira, listen to me,” he said. “Jack drugged you with a heavy dose of a sedative known as Shar’s Oblivion. If I hadn’t intervened when I did, there was a very good chance I — we — could have lost you tonight.”

A lump formed in her throat and cold sweat gathered at the base of her skull. A high-pitched ringing from within her ears drowned out all sound as she took in the implications of Halsin’s words.

No. That wasn’t right.

Jack had been so sweet and friendly. He had reminded her of an excited puppy: playful and charming and eager. Not the kind of person who would do such a thing. Certainly not some sort of criminal.

Hells, he was a member of the Flaming Fist too. They were supposed to protect people from criminals, not —

One look at Halsin’s face chased away the denial that had tried to find purchase in her mind.

Her heart sank.

What Halsin had said made sense.

It made a hell of more sense than her getting black-out, clumsy drunk after just two glasses of wine.

He must have done it when he bumped into her table — that was the only opportunity he had that she could think of. Unless, somehow, he had spiked her drink before it ever got to her. Then she remembered how his palm covered the mouth of her goblet when he returned it to the table. It only looked like he was trying to be careful, but now…

Zilvira swallowed down the taste of bile that wasn’t there a few seconds ago. “What happened?” she asked tightly and hugged her legs to her chest. “What don’t I remember?”

Another heavy sigh. “Between me and Nym, we chased him off before Jack could do anything else. Sorn and I brought you here so I could heal you and let you get some rest. We can stay here as long as you need.”

Though she knew deep in her heart she ought to believe him, part of her didn’t want to.

She didn't want to believe any of it.

Everything about the situation felt wrong.

It felt wrong that she couldn’t remember parts of the night. It felt wrong that a handsome, charismatic, and friendly man like Jack would put something in her drink.

And it felt wrong that Halsin just happened to be there to save her.

‘While I understand your reluctance to believe Halsin,’ the Emperor interjected once more, sensing her uncertainty, ‘I can detect no lies. He has always had your best interest.’

Though Zilvira wasn’t sure why the Illithid was being so chatty, that little bit of reassurance helped to calm her tumultuous thoughts. The Emperor was right — as much as she didn’t want to believe what she was hearing, Halsin had no reason to lie.

Though part of her suspected he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Was there anything else that happened?” she asked, staring at a dim lantern across the room so she didn’t have to look at him.

The dampened sounds of taproom patrons below barely reached her ears as a grandfather clock tucked into the corner of the room counted the seconds. A wave of dizziness passed over her and she closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing once again.

The mattress dipped slightly near her feet as Halsin took a seat at the end of the bed. “Nothing of consequence,” he replied. “You fell asleep shortly after I healed you. Except for Nym stopping in to drop off some food, everything has been quiet. Well, as quiet as it can be for a city like this.”

He said the last part with a bit of a laugh, like he was hoping to cut through the tension that enveloped them like a cloud of thick and suffocating smoke.

Unsaid words hung between them; indecipherable and taunting. He was hesitating too much, and picking his words too carefully.

Halsin was hiding something, but Zilvira forced herself to push her curiosity aside.

What did it matter anyway?

He didn’t owe her any more explanation than he had already given. Maybe a few days ago she would have pushed for more, but she reminded herself of the new boundaries she put between them. She would treat Halsin as a professional, a healer and a druid and an ally. In that regard, he had done his job.

Whatever he didn’t say probably didn’t matter enough for him to waste his breath. It wasn’t like he could provide her with every excruciating detail of the evening.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Zilvira carefully set her feet on the floor. Her toes were a little numb, which was likely a side effect of the drug, but not so numb that it felt unsafe to walk. “We should get back to camp before the others start to worry.”

“Zilvira, wait.” His fingertips brushed over the back of her hand before she could fully stand.

When she looked at him, his eyes were already on hers. Intense and full of something like longing. He opened his mouth, then pursed his lips and turned his focus to where their hands touched.

He withdrew.

“You should eat something and have some water before we go,” he said and nodded towards a small basket on the end table. “I already packed away the cheese since I know you don’t eat it, but everything else should be to your liking. I double checked with Nym about the ingredients.”

Normally, the fact that someone cared at all about her food preferences would have made her smile, but instead it just caused an ache in her chest.

Why did he have to be so sweet and considerate and caring? Why did he have to be so damn nice to her?

Why did she have to be so smitten with someone who would never want her back?

With a sigh, Zilvira retrieved a piece of bread and a handful of grapes from the basket. “Thank you,” she said, feeling a little defeated and struggling not to drown in all of the emotions she didn’t want to think about. “That was very thoughtful.”

“Anything for you,” he said with a gentle smile that brought butterflies to her stomach, but she quickly swatted them away.

Gods, he was going to make it impossible to get over him.

Quickly, she ate the grapes and took a single bite of the bread. She dusted her hands of crumbs as she finished chewing and said, “We should get going.”

Halsin stood when she took a step away from the bed, his palms open as if ready to catch her at any moment. “I know you’re eager to leave, but I don’t think it’s wise to rush out of here. You just woke up. Take a moment.”

“I feel fine,” she lied and took a few unsteady, shuffling steps.

He made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “At least take my arm,” he said as he offered it like it was the most natural thing to do. “Please. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Goddamn him.

Despite her earlier confidence in her ability to walk, she recognized she was unstable. It wouldn’t take much for her to trip over an uneven floor plank or down a set of stairs.

Reluctantly, she wrapped her hand around his forearm and tried to ignore the way his muscles tensed under her touch and how his skin felt against her palm.

Halsin covered her hand with his as if he were afraid she would slip away. “Thank you.”

As she let him guide her out of the room, she repeated the same thoughts in her mind like a mantra.

Halsin was just being nice. Halsin was taking care of her the same way he would take care of anyone else. Halsin was just helping her because he made a promise.

And Halsin did not care for her the way she cared for him.

—

Thankfully, their departure from Sharess’ Caress was a quiet one. On their way out, Mamzell Amira offered them another discount on a night with the drow twins as an apology for their less-than-ideal experience. When Zilvira tensed at the offer, seemingly at a momentary loss for words, Halsin politely refused on her behalf.

Zilvira was the sort to greet most situations with a bright smile and a friendly demeanor, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable. Given her nature, lack of response was uncharacteristic. But considering what she had just gone through, it wasn’t a surprise she was a bit out of sorts. Her mind was likely still all over the place, and the Mamzell’s offer was ill-considered, to say the least.

The main stretch of Wyrm’s Crossing was far less crowded than it was a few hours ago. Halsin counted three food carts that were still open, each one with a respectable number of customers waiting in line or chatting over their supper. One of the carts had a small lantern illuminating a menu board that advertised fried pastries with a savory vegetable filling that Halsin thought Zilvira might enjoy. After all, she had mentioned to him several times that she was excited to try any new foods that Baldur’s Gate had to offer.

With the remnants of alcohol and Ilmater’s Mercy still in her system, Halsin wanted her to have a little more to eat to ward off any future discomfort. Although it wasn’t much, he also hoped that perhaps it might help her feel a bit better mentally speaking.

But when he pointed out the sign to her, Zilvira simply shook her head. Instead, she stared down the street like she wanted to be anywhere but next to him.

Halsin’s heart sank like she had added another tiny pebble to weigh it down after the dozens she had already added over the last few days.

The Zilvira that Halsin knew would have dragged him over to the vendor, excited to try something new and to share it with him. He could picture her tearing one of those pastries in two and handing him the bigger piece. If they both liked them, she would have gone back to the vendor to get some for the rest of the camp.

Even though she liked to share such things with all of their companions, Halsin did not fail to notice that she always had preferred to share with him first — whether it was a bite of food, a cup of tea, a lovely view, a beautiful bird, or just a conversation.

He missed those moments.

He missed her.

As they walked past the cart, Halsin leaned down and quietly said,“I still think you should eat something. Something more than three grapes and a bite of bread.”

Zilvira quickly looked away from the steaming pastries. “I’m fine,” she said and readjusted her grip on his arm.

She had tried a few times on their way out of Sharess’ Caress to walk unaided, keeping her hand hovering above his arm for a few steps, testing her limits a few seconds at a time. Each time she stumbled or swerved, she would sigh and take his arm again.

“The line’s long, and I don’t want to bother you any longer than necessary,” she mumbled.

Halsin was tempted to point out that there were only two people in line, but he decided it wasn’t worth pressing the issue. She was just trying to make excuses to spend as little time around him as possible, and they both knew it.

Withholding a beleaguered sigh, he briefly covered her hand with his and said, “You’ve never been a bother. Not to me, in any case.”

Zilvira only gave a low ‘hmm’ in response, saying exactly what she thought without a single word: she didn’t believe him.

She didn’t believe him, and it felt like she added yet another pebble to the weight on his heart.

In all of their time together, Halsin didn’t think he had given her any reason not to trust him. He had always been straightforward with her from the moment she had rescued him from that wretched cell in the goblin camp. He had thought she knew that, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Her sleepy, slurred, words from earlier echoed in the back of his mind.

“I wish I could have you.”

“You won’t have me. You don’t want me. Not the way I want you.”

Even if she said those words under the influence of Ilmater’s Mercy, even if Halsin knew better than to take those words at face value, he couldn’t help but wonder if she truly believed that.

If she did… her strange behavior made a lot more sense.

But what in the Hells could have made her so convinced that the feeling wasn’t mutual? If the feeling wasn’t mutual, he never would have led her on by flirting with her the way he had. He wouldn’t have spent the time and energy if he had no intention of pursuing her. He would have maintained a healthy professionalism with her, nothing more.

Yet, with the way she was acting, he couldn’t help but wonder if someone had planted a seed of doubt in her ear and watered it with false words. Whether well-intentioned or malicious, the end result was the same — it seemed like she felt betrayed.

If he were to put himself in her shoes, if Zilvira had flirted with him just for the fun of it and didn’t mean a single word, he would have felt the same way.

Zilvira’s hand lifted from his arm, once again experimenting with whether or not she could walk without his support, like she was desperate to put some space between them, although she still needed help. Less than a tenday ago, she would loop her arm around his for no reason at all. She would smile up at him and strike up a conversation about anything at all. Or sometimes she would gently tug him down to her level so she could whisper harmless gossip in his ear.

At the present, she just gave a defeated huff of air through her nose and stared resolutely ahead like he was walking her to her execution.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Halsin clasped his hand gently over hers so she wouldn’t slip away. “Come here for a moment,” he said, and didn’t wait for an answer as he guided toward an empty alcove between two buildings.

Zilvira’s spine stiffened even as she let him lead her. “Where are we going?” she asked, a small spark of surprise in her voice that he much preferred over her prior docility. “I thought we were going back to camp.”

“We are,” he said as he spotted a stack of crates that might afford them a modicum of privacy and a place for Zilvira to sit. “But first, I need to speak with you.”

“And we can’t do that while we’re walking?”

Quickly dusting off one of the wooden crates, Halsin carefully helped her take a seat. He kneeled before her, his face level with hers. “I need to be able to look you in the eyes while we talk,” he said and placed his hands on either side of the crate, loosely caging her in. “You’ve been acting strange and I need to know what’s wrong.”

She blinked at him. “I got drugged by a stranger and I can’t remember some of the past few hours of my life,” she replied flatly as if he had said something incredibly stupid. “Of course I’m not acting like myself.”

If Halsin had any indication that that was all there was to it, he wouldn’t press the issue. After all, it wasn’t the ideal moment to have such a conversation, but Halsin didn’t want to let things fester between them a moment longer. If there was a chance at all to clear the air sooner rather than later, he wanted to take it.

If she refused to speak with him now, which was well within her right considering the events of the evening. Then, he supposed, both of them would just have a long, awkward walk back to camp.

Maybe it was a little selfish of him, but he needed to at least try. For his own sanity.

“I think you know that wasn’t what I was referring to,” he said, keeping his tone level as he tried to look into her eyes despite how she stubbornly looked away. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been treating me differently these past few days. I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong, or I did something to hurt you. I don’t know what that something is, and I won’t know until you tell me. Whatever it is, I want to make things right.”

It wasn’t so much as a want as it was a need, if he was completely honest. It had been centuries since he had cared for someone the way he cared for Zilvira. Since he had such an ally and confidant.

A friend.

A true friend that he felt like he could be himself with — no mask required.

Zilvira pursed her lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I just needed some time away to… sort out how I felt about things.”

“And one of those things is me, I take it?”

Her mouth drew into a thin line as her eyes followed a small spider making its web between two crates that were stacked beside her.

She watched as the spider pulled silk in a full loop around its web, and said nothing.

Very well. Perhaps if he wanted to get anywhere with her, then he would have to open up first.

He only hoped he would not somehow make things worse.

His heartbeat quickened in his chest and he swallowed dryly. “A few days ago, I would have thought you were fond of me — more than fond of me. Just as I am quite fond of you.”

Her chest rose with a small, sharp intake of air and her red eyes, almost a deep amaranthine beneath the light of the moon, finally flickered toward him.

“Now… I don’t know what to think,” he admitted. “Before you seemed to want nothing more than to be by my side, to share tea and conversation and the warmth of the fire together. Now, it seems you want nothing to do with me at all. I don’t know what went wrong, but I would like to try to make it right, if I can.”

Wrapping her arms around herself, as she averted her eyes once again. “I realized my behavior toward you may have been inappropriate or unwanted,” she replied with a small crack in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“If your behavior was either of those things, I would have told you so.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked as a tear rolled down her cheek. “This whole time, I thought you would have said something but then you didn’t and — now I feel like an idiot.”

A frown pulled at Halsin’s lips as his brow drew together. “With all due respect, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I overheard your conversation with Shadowheart about your time in the Underdark, And I heard what you said about me and — you called me cruel.”

The wrinkle between his brow deepened along with his confusion.

Called her cruel? The only creatures that might have thought she had an ounce of cruelty in her were the foes they had faced. Even then, she was quick and efficient in combat, and only killed when she had no other choice.

She didn’t enjoy it, nor did she seek it out. In fact, she actively avoided any sort of violent confrontation whenever possible. She showed sympathy, grace and mercy when most people wouldn’t have.

Sometimes, even when he wouldn’t have.

Halsin shook his head. “I have never called you cruel, Zilvira.”

“You implied it,” she sniffed. “You said cruelty was in a drow’s nature, and when Shadowheart asked if I was included in that statement, you said ‘she’s a drow, is she not?’”

The moment she said those words, his throat tightened. His stomach sank.

Hells. He knew exactly what she was referring to.

“Please tell me I misheard you and I was being a bitch for no reason,” she said with a half-hearted laugh, as if she felt the tension creeping out from every fiber of his being and was trying to ease it.

That time, Halsin was the one to look away. “No,” he said with a heavy sigh, “you didn’t mishear me.”

---

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