unscng

[unscng]

          “ oh, i am most certain some sort of arrangement will come to pass and remedy us all for these whispers we are burdened with. ”  for what cousin of hers has ever known to bear struggle? to yearn for something and not have it presented to them i the many facets of gold, silver and undeserving adoration. even such an act,  a defiance  to the queen herself and meralith holds certain hardly a hair on the head of the crown prince will be touched. “ they did get what they wanted, two kingdoms joined now. ”  she stifles the roll of violet eyes that dare to signal anything but the same worry he displays, as if a mirror is held to his face and if he were to shed a tear from the left eye, she would too from the right. perfectly calculated. “ you must have some thoughts on the matter, lord rhys? ”  and does she merely desire him to talk out of curiosity, pleasantries or something greater?

open starter, a day after . 2/5

" The whole affair was... " Lord Rhys' head shakes and puzzlement wracks features into confusion; his brow scrunched, a small frown curved onto his face. Support was wavered in naive values, twisted in the plot like a cat in yarn. " wrong. ⸻ Do you suppose amends can be made? " Was it even an error? Head cants in thought, "Peacefully, I'd hope. " he added, his voice softening, harboring the fragile belief that peace was still forefront above all.

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          such words, ones that may hold all the venom that could poison even the most paranoid, are as sickly sweet as golden honey to the lady of claw isle. the one trapped away in a tower who now finds pleasure in the most cruel forms that give way to a cousin's error.  even if it is to be whispers.  simple whispers that hold little merit for anything past satisfying a desire prayed to the gods of old valyria to be true, that lions, wolves and krakens, roam the courts for a dragon unguarded. “ and yet, they each worship their own. ” she assumes with not even a glance to pay the lady respect until she settles the wandering thought in her mind. now prayed to be words spread by listening ears. “ if they are angered, is this not their wrath? ” or has their lord of light truly found favor with the princess over the bloodline of dragons.

Open Starter (capping at 0/5, after the marital rites)

Jeyne had decided to sit at a nearby table and rest her weary feet immediately after a dramatic royal wedding complete with a false bride had occurred. She sipped her goblet of wine before turning towards someone nearby and speaking.

"I suppose that not even the Gods foresaw what was to happen at this wedding. I thought weddings weren't supposed to have false brides." She said, her gaze unreadable as she hid a slight smirk behind her goblet as she took a sip and returned the goblet to the table, her smile returning as soon as the goblet left her lips.

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…my anger is a secret, a small stone only I can feel settled heavy in my throat.

Molly McCully Brown, from Places I’ve Taken my Body: Essays

[unscng]

          “ thrilling, ” the phase is repeated as if a foreign object in her mouth, but meralith cannot claim knowledge of who lingers behind the mask by voice alone, even as she burrows judgement ladened eyes upon her company. “ terrifying if you do not know what beast you might find. ” and how stark struck the wonderment is in the eyes of this one, it could almost  induce an envious nature.  “ so we shall play a game, ” the celtigar daughter places hands together, folded before her as if to wait in peace and pleasantry. “ we will each share something and the other is to guess. a region, is fair enough for now. ” and the prize? it is unbeknownst to her, the wide - eyed lady who finds this all certainly thrilling, to meralith it is the answer of the strokes of an ink feathered pen in a raven's letter from claw isle. a sister has a duty to a brother, and demand of a father.

CLOSED STARTER ✦ @primadonnaes , @unscng , @heavnle

in her head , she allowed herself to play a little game . quite a childish distraction to not give herself away . tonight , she is far from anything she is supposed to be , and she convinced herself enough to find joy in it . a cup ( or three ) have helped , now she feels less of the anxiety and the discomfort that ate at her desire to even attend . the longer she looked , the more she found the charm of what she had been gifted to done for tonight ' s festivities . ❝ we have met before , but it also seems we have not . it's quite ... thrilling trying to figure who you are underneath the mask . ❞ the more people failed to tell it was her , the more the appeal of speaking her mind grew .

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          “ brother, ” a single word and how it holds so much behind it as if aryros is to chastise, an upper hand never dealt to him in life and now he claims the stance higher. if only for a moment it is there, pulled taut at lip corners to relish in this fleeting satisfaction a mask keeps secret as if done behind closed doors. “ should you not be careful with your words in such spaces? ” what golden ram horns and black ink that shrouds him cannot guise is tone, one of a  juvenile mindset  to think himself above. “ i believe it was lord zalyne, of braavos, who said to me earlier that our support must lie with our princess, soon these will be her people too. at least pretend to find them tolerable in open air. ” 

it  is  an  unfair  comparison — to  contrast  the  conservative  and  seemingly  pious  nature  of  the  sunset  kingdoms  to  the  uninhibited  splendors  of  the  free  cities.  and  yet,  he  cannot  help  but  long  for  the  resplendence  that  lies  beyond  the  narrow  sea.  even  now,  surrounded  by  masked  delights — it  is  but  a  poor  imitation  of  the  pageantry  oft  found  in  the  courts  of  essosi  potentates.  it  is  not  in  his  nature  to  be  forgiving,  and  perhaps  it  is  this  that  fuels  his  ever-growing  contempt.  prudence  is  disregarded  in  favor  of  candor,  mahogany  hues  mirroring  his  dissatisfaction.              “        look  at  them,  so  easily  entertained  by  the  uninspired.               ”       there  is  no  hiding  the  disdain  in  his  voice,  nor  is  it  made  less  evident  when  coupled  with  the  slight  upward  tilt  of  his  lips. open to: @unscng + aryros and @steelfyre + klahan .

[unscng]

          the metaphorical is so quick to become reality, rammed into by a vision of pale blue fabric that causes a weighted step back and a reach to grasp the forearm of whoever is nearest for stability. if only he knew the arm he holds onto is one of familiarity. but the mask, dark leather obstructs vision and intoxication  relinquishes memory  of a tone he would have claimed to be a siren's call, even in a desert. “ i'd like to think it would take more than a bump to injure me, my lady. ” once fingers no longer press against soft flesh he glances back, the sight of a broad shouldered man elbowing his way through a crowd as a blade would through parchment, intended. “ shall we go reclaim honour for the court? ” he offers an arm, a means to place her footing first on the path. a stranger with another to follow a third, and neither shall know a name nor a face.

"  apparently  masks  give  people  an  excuse  to  be  rude  ,  "  irem  chastised  as  she  barely  caught  herself  ,  nearly  tripping  on  her  costume  .  someone  had  shoved  past  her  ,  almost  spilling  their  drink  on  whoever  was  in  their  path  .  the  blue  fairy  instinctively  grabbed  hold�� of  the  nearest  person  as  she  steadied  herself  .  "  my  apologies  ,  "  she  immediately  turned  to  them  ,  shaking  her  head  .  "  if  i've  injured  you  ,  please  go  after  that  person  .  "

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑   :   the  ram   aryros  moraqos    (  @unscng  )

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          his agreement comes in silence and his own cup emptying with each passing moment until it is placed beside the mask chosen. reprieve only allotted in the presence of a select few before the  golden ram horns  will claim his identity once again. “ if anyone can spot the princess. ” tonight identities were traded, stolen and removed and as his eyes lift, a glance around the room proves aryros could find royalty passing without a thought, nor acknowledgement given that otherwise might rally against social etiquettes in this new land. “ or any of them, have you caught a glimpse of any face under a mask? anyone of note? ” 

dark eyes silently follow younger lord indulging himself in more wine; he'd have to keep an eye out on him, lord zalyne decided. empire's children far from home, they had to look out for each other. " you better arm yourself with plenty of patience, lord moraqos. i have a feeling we will be here for quite a while. well then, here's to the empire.. and all the lives lost tonight. i fear the dothraki will begin to envy westerosi feasts. " his goblet is raised, before he takes a few generous gulps out of it, high tolerance letting him indulge in dornish red as he pleased without worry. demeanor suddenly turns slightly more serious. " purple harbour and all other destinations can wait. right now, princess intira needs us. she might be a future dragon queen, but she will always have her people. because we have each other's backs, don't we? "

[unscng]

          “ they do say it is the things we do for vanity. ” or something of the sort eyva had waved off absentmindedly each time such criticism was brought to her feet as if an offering to the seven against her. but it is then, when she too turns to gaze upon the lady with  wooden embellishment   that a pink rose obstructs her view, not from mask but placed in her hair. pink petals and jagged edged leaves press against rosy cheeks, pinched until they match the garments shade. “ but if i am ever to wear such things again i would like to be able to see to either side. ” some might claim paranoia, but eyva always claims her intuition to be her greatest asset, her sight, a great weapon, one now obstructed, not even able to see what or who is to come up behind her. a bard out of tune perhaps? there is always one lurking about.

closed for @unscng (event starter)

"I can only hope there is an artist among us who will commit these memories to something more permanent than memory." Myranda's hands ghosted over the wooden bodice, down to the embroidered red leaves at her hips, pulling and plucking at the stitches absently. Her mask all but obliterated her peripheral vision, so anytime she wished to look, she had to turn her whole head. It meant she couldn't watch subtly, the white face atop her own facing anyone she wished to watch, though she didn't mind. She found, wearing a mask, she felt free, entirely untethered from herself in the best way. Free enough to strike up conversation with anybody and everybody, no one around her was safe from it. "It would be a shame, for such incredible sights to be lost to time, as all things must be. Memories haze over the years, and some of these designs deserve to live forever. Don't you agree?"

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          if all of westeros is to be a stage, it is now, when violet irises rake across the masked epicureans that he finds this to be his soliloquy. to do so without an audience? it would near him to extinction and so nothing is said from the perched view he notes the diamond below. to ignore her would cast ill - intent, to fawn would be a lie, and without requite?  wounding the ego that preens,  but to watch, as he does now, a mystery, much as the night that will consume them all. until finally, when she has not moved, nor allotted the advances of a dance from the hand that offers, jaehaerys parts the ivory tower until steps slow. two more taken until the golden dragon reaches the diamond in the rough. “ did no one tell you forgoing the mask entirely too early misses the fun of the evening, lady alysane. ”

a   rose   is   a   diamond　...　　( @primadonnaes )

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          boisterous laughter and crimson liquid sloshing over the edge of a cup paraded in a grasp as if it were a prop, this is where attention is commanded. where a dragon in gold has shed his scales and where the center of it all revolves around him.  it is why he performs,  his own attention fleeting in search of more. a parted gaze from a ruling lord seated stage left beckons the summerhall prince to meet mask guised eyes across a crowded room and how arrogant one must find him, for with an outstretched hand and not a word from parted lips, he expects the emptiness to be filled. a silent call to the rabbit he does not hunt.

a   rabbit   hunt　...　　( @heavnle )

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          “ i do not believe it can be denied now, she grows obvious with her hatred for us. ” no longer concealed in the shadows like a ghost meralith has been branded to be this evening, if dragons paraded before them were not enough surely it would it be their father's raven.  a cryptic warning,  or a reminder? did he think their minds would grow sympathetic in king's landing without stone to conceal them? “ and tonight, ” the mask she is to wear, of long sheer fabric frayed as if time has betrayed it, rests between pale palms. “ anyone could be under one of these. ”

weaned   on   poison　...　　( @heavnle )

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          a father's words, but his holds wisdom, not a bitterness lapped up like a dog to stew in his own rage, the same poison the ruling lord celtigar has pierced the hearts of his children with. and so, this saying is foreign. rational. and it holds her tongue in response until she finds the growing silence a screech,  a banshee's cry,  she cannot ignore. “ the very same. i told you, i am also to meet someone. ” she lies, but it does not sound as if she possesses a false tongue, rather her voice is serene and steady as if the waves before a storm. the first calm. “ and what are you to do if your someone does not arrive? ” fingertips toy with the wearing fabric on dulled sheen sleeves, the only time idle hands reveal uncertainty. “ are they to be in search of a wolf? ” a northerner.

"so they say," he echoed. alaric paused, a faint smile on his face as he remembered his father's advice. "just because they have not shown their favor, do not assume they have turned their backs on us. my father always said that the old gods are like the seasons. they must be respected, and we must adapt to their changes, but in the end, they will always return to their natural cycle. so, pray not that the gods favor you, but that you have the wisdom to see their signs."

he took a moment to glance around the deserted atrium, nary a soul to witness the interaction between them. "perhaps your arrival, my lady, is the latest sign that i am to behold. i'd venture to ask, though, what brings you here?" alaric grinned at the woman, his face revealing nothing. "i refer to no songbird in particular. i am merely yearning for a respite from the court."

[unscng]

          “ you and i are obvious. ” to be adorned in a bed of roses an effortless feat. and how proud victaria might be that eyva too shares in presenting house tyrell, even when identity is so readily taken to secrecy this evening. “ but to have a diamond in the garden, how lucky we must be. ” still, to be someone else for a night, before the sun came again and  darkness shrouded intent  truly felt an opportunity missed, much like the prying petal eye of a sister when any lord or lady of the reach crossed before them. “ and you too have been in search of a flower? hopefully not a weed without the proper help. ” the desperation her mother held to have her say in the hand the current heir would take could be felt with every glance made, every word spoken and every prospect pondered.

closed starter ›› eyva tyrell , @unscng

an amused  look  had  colored  their  face when they'd first laid eyes on the costume dragon queen had selected. was a masquerade not intended to conceal one's identity? trystane shaped it as a kindness, despite knowing it a false belief, for he felt most at ease when surrounded by flowers; now they adorned every inch of his coat.  ❝ it seems we tyrells were all assigned similar themes, ❞   they remarked as they stood beside one of their siblings.

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          “ this fabric is stifling. ” relief was once found in a gentle breeze, tittering too close to the floor's edge of a room where stone and air meet, but here, it disappears. now a pink rose  in name and ornamentation  where dyed rose petal shaded fabric is scooped between arms in her three step waddle to return and as if she lay in a bed of flowers where the pollen would surely coat the air like a puffed cloud, so does her garment, pooling around her once both find stillness adjacent to the one claimed fairest rose. “ you look lovely. ” eyes that hold all the warmth of the sun offer earnest sincerity. “ is this the game they are to play? first a rose now a jewel, you are already arranged to marry. will they dress you as dragon food next to tantalize him? ”

alysane  shifted  in  her  seat  ,  adjusting  and  finding  a  position  where  she  felt  comfortable  .  frustrated  ,  she  let  out  a  sigh  ,  straightening  her  back  against  the  seat  .  "  the  costumes  are  so  beautiful  ,  don't  think  ?  "  the  tyrell  rose  turned  to  the  other  with  a  sweet  smile  to  mask  her  discomfort  .  "  i  hope  everyone  is  able  to  breathe  in  theirs  ,  at  least  .  "  because  she  could  barely  .  "  —   that  is  second  priority  ,  at  this  point  ,  i  think  .  "

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑   :    @oftroje , @unscng + [ accepting  0  /  2  replies  ]

[unscng]

          a distinguished gait, one that could belong to no other ceases. a pull from what lay ahead to drown him in the waters of  adoration and affection  the moment his footing would allow him further. instead it is a turn of frame. “ consider me surprised, ” his antics pull at  ( unintended )  dramatics, a mask removed and his own never shy to showcase the features etched by the seven, of marble and valyrian. “ you, in hiding? i would have never assumed. ” violet irises ladened with judgment serve to remind the shadows are a comfort for only one. “ unless? do share, i have always wanted to know what daring escape in dire circumstance might lead you to scaling a wall. ” words drip with satire as if they had been coated in honey, thick and golden as the costume adorned, and all of this as if to provoke undivided attention. “ slipping back on a mask might be a promising start. ”

crown   prince   moves   with   unease   ⸺   history   to   be   changed   at   midnight,   union   of   two   royal   houses   and   he's   an   important   player   in   it   all.   easy   to   block   out   thoughts   of   his   upending   doom   but   now   it's   right   there.   dexterous   tug   away   mask   from   valyrian   -   graced   features,   dragon's   identity   revealed   for   all.   "   it's   too   late   to   run   away,   right   ?   unless   ...   "   rhaeys   jests   but   he   wishes   he   wasn't.

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁   𝚄𝙽𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳   .   .   .      𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀   (   four   /   𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋   )   𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌.

[unscng]

a rose is only as lovely as the thorns that prick a finger , judgment offered with a deep rose blush to the cheeks , rich silks adorned upon sun kissed skin in such a manner it seems it might slip , a snake in the garden is only terrifying if it knows the maze set to entrap it.

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰 ,    𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮 ( 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ) , 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵 ( 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 ) , 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 ( 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 ) , 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺 , 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯

          but of course, a tyrell is to be as lovely as a rose, pink pinched cheeks and eyes alight like the summer's sun, she is another flower in the garden. pruned to perfection, but one who comes into the world fussy and fighting, a thorn that is to remain hidden behind perfection as she grows. this one may have the beauty of a flower but the stubbornness of weeds, how lovely to be compared to such. in the years that pass, her mother victaria gives the ruling lord of highgarden another girl, two girls, hardly a rival to the heir of highgarden. a disappointment as if a spring has come without blooms. and what to do with a child who finds entertainment in whispers and rules mere suggestions? instill the importance of being a favored child of course, create a desire, but even a mother's wish does not always come true. sometimes it is fate that has other plans, like a snake in the garden. on a day when the breeze is soft and cool against the flesh and the sun brings just enough warmth, he appears. he slithers,  as serpents do  or maybe he is ivy, the poisonous kind that crawls up trees, wrapping its vines around until the tree is nothing but a place to sit upon and take. and this is what he does, he takes until she awakes from this spell binding slumber and nothing is left but wilted petals and a mantra, one she repeats to this very name day, break their hearts, break their hearts and have no mercy!

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ,    𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭 ( 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ) , 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 ( 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 ) , 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘱 ( 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘷𝘢'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 )

[unscng]

show me your thorns and i'll show you hands ready to bleed , alabaster against ivory , a mask bared shrouding intent until hairline cracks blemish the surface , a dance reveled in the light when darkness is at fingertip reach , heavy is the head that shall never know this golden crown.

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰 ,    𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺 ( 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺 ) , 𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘴 ( 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘮𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 ) , 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘩 ( 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘩 ) , 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯 ( 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 ) , 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭

          to be starved of attention would feel as if a dulled blade has been forced into the heart, foreign in nature and one jaehaerys has never had the misfortune to know. even his arrival into the world is a tormented waiting game, years from the last until the desire is insurmountable and named in the past's prestige. if he can not be the first, predestined for the glory and torment of the iron throne, nor the one to nurture wrath as a dragon's egg coddled for even a glance taken not to his liking as the furthest from a claim, then he would be the  peacock,  preening and reveling in attention as if it were the only air worthy of breath. the second, the first spare. and with a mask, this facade is curated to perfection in the eyes of whoever stared into it, never truly aware of what lurked behind less they would be so fortunate. but what a waste it would be – a mind that can twist and turn a will, to be spent on adoration alone. and everything he does is for show, every gesture or movement, saved as if he alone is to be the one showcased in a crowd. and this too is a curse for when perfection is perceived what use is there to strive for more? to acknowledge what flaws might show through veiled cracks in this mask, what ugliness might be within the portrait? but fortune does not always favor who this attention comes from and so the second heir is tasked to place his upon a rose, a push and pull that brings familiarity to that dulled blade, and now to share it? dare it be something that might awaken what sits below that pristine surface and dragon's breath?

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ,    𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘴 ( 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ) , 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘴 ( 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴 ) , 𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘺𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭 ( 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 ) , 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ( 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 )