hartfieldlodge | [prologue]

[prologue]

There aren't a lot of places Murphy expected to end up - prison, most likely. Some shitty apartment back in Baltimore, maybe, if he's lucky. The general handyman/groundskeeper of a wilderness resort...thing? Not so much. It hadn't been an interview he expected to get much out of. Just some gasoline wasted on a pretty drive.

He's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. Hartfield's nice. Decent weather. Tiny town nearby. A nice lake and some rivers off in the forest, probably with some decent fishing. He hasn't gone fishing in a long time. He's looking forward to that, when he gets a chance.

Murphy's considerably less excited about the apparent onslaught of tourists coming out to watch the leaves all change. Tourists. Lovely. He's already hoping that he doesn't actually have to deal with most of them, though that's likely to be mostly in vain. Customer service might not be the main parts of his job description, but the summer staff is packing up and leaving. He'll have to pick up the slack.

For now, though, he's got a few things to keep him busy before this round of guests shows up. He still needs to build up the firewood stores considerably before winter hits - that's a big fucking task, because apparently his predecessors never replenished what they used. It's also one he can only do some much of in a day. Eventually, he's just got to give up and wander down to the lake with what amounts to his lunch, axe in hand still. He never know when he'll need something like that.

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He's coming down to the lake. She's not sure what to make of that. Any time the staff changes is stressful for her, really. And there are new people pretty often. She's never sure if they'll be able to see her or not, and the ones that can see her usually don't react well. One of the side effects of being a ghost, she figures.

She retreats farther under the water once he gets close enough that she can see the ax. Definitely not a good sign. She wonders if it's a coincidence or if he can tell something big's coming.

Edited 2014-05-06 06:41 (UTC)

There's quite a few nice places to settle along the banks of the lake. Murphy settles for a spot on an old log with a clear view of the lodge, back to the forest.

There's something off about that lake. Murphy's gotten fairly prone to paranoia in general, feeling on edge - the axe he rests beside him is testament enough to that - but this is beyond his normal wariness. There's something there. He's been sure of it for a little while now. Not because of the spooky bullshit the rest of the staff talks about. That's tourist stuff. Bad Travel Channel documentary stuff. He tunes it out with very little difficulty.

No, this is pit of the stomach instinct. Murphy knows damn well when he's being watched, and there is most definitely something in that goddamn lake that's been watching him.

It's a scenic place, he'll give it that. Quiet enough that sitting here gnawing on his sandwich is otherwise pleasant, despite his furtive scanning of the surface of the water for something. Anything.

Why's it always water for him? Always lakes?

She watches as he sits by the lake to eat his lunch. Why did he have to come down here to eat? She doesn't like this. She feels like he's looking for something. Like she's being watched. She really doesn't like it. She drops down farther into the water and edges toward the center of the lake. At least most of the other things here leave the lake alone.

She's just starting to relax when a sudden voice badly startles her. "Hey, uh, I heard there was a hiking trail somewhere around here? I think I'm all turned around, though." She hadn't even noticed the other man until he came strolling down from... she's not sure where, actually. She peers out of the water and the new guy... really doesn't look like much of a hiker. Mostly he looks awkward and kind of sheepish. He seems like someone she might have liked before. But she's at her limit. She drops down toward the bottom of the lake, leaving only a few ripples to suggest that anything might have been there.

Murphy's fairly deep in thought when the sounds of approaching footsteps pull him out of his woolgathering. His gaze darts from the water's fairly placid surface to the stranger headed his way. Scruffy. Out of place.

Tourist.

"There's a few on this side of the property," He answers between bites of sandwich. Shit, he should probably actually be helpful, shouldn't he? He glances back to the lake briefly, but it's the same as before. Oh well. "I can give you directions, but that'd depend on which one you're looking for."

Don't they have maps in the lobby?

It's easy enough to get settled in the nice room they gave him. Now it's time to start making nice with the employees. Making friends. Vic spies who he suspects is the groundskeeper he couldn't find any information on in his initial searching, which was interesting. Very interesting. He might just be the place to start.

When he gets closer, he notices some odd rippling in the water. Hmm. He's pretty sure he remembers there being something about the lake in his files. He'll take another look when he gets back to his room. In the meantime, time to play the ditz. "Well uh," Vic starts, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head, "I think I probably should stick to one of the novice trails."

Vic pauses a moment to consider. There are a lot of trails around the lodge. Well. Since he's already here and curious... "Maybe, uh, the one around the lake?"

Murphy sets aside his lunch for the moment, since apparently this is going to take more talking. He considers this guy for a moment. Doesn't really look like he's a particularly wilderness capable sort. He doesn't look like he sees the sun much at all, really.

"That one's not bad if you stick to the western half. Long, though. The lake's bigger than you'd think." Murphy's almost betting he's going to have to go find this guy in the woods later. It's not a big leap; he seems to be kind of lost already. "I'd suggest making sure you have a compass and one of the trail maps on you."

Vic knows exactly how big the lake is, of course. Not that he'll say so. "Really? That's good to know." He bounces on the balls of his feet a little. "Thanks."

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks out over the lake briefly before looking back at the man in front of him. "Oh hey, there's maps in the lobby aren't there." As if he didn't already have one of those and another of his own.

Edited 2014-05-07 04:15 (UTC)

"Uh-huh. Er, welcome." Murphy might need to work on those approachability skills. And general politeness. He wasn't hired for that though so really his employers shouldn't be surprised. "There's supplies, too. And a guide schedule if you'd rather do that sort of thing."

"Guide? Oh yeah. I saw something about that. To look at the leaves, right?" Vic could probably be more inane than this, but it would take effort. More effort than he's caffeinated for at the moment. He pauses to think. About the lake more than whether he'd like a guided tour, but this guy has no way of knowing. "I dunno. Sounds an awful lot like a field trip to me. More being herded around than getting to look at anything."

"It's the season for it," Murphy answers with very little enthusiasm. They're leaves. They're everywhere. And he's probably going to see a lot of them when he has to rake.

He mostly just shrugs at the next comment. "Field trip, huh? Hope you remembered to bring your parents' permission slip." A couple ducks waddle towards the shore not far. Murphy tears off some bread to toss to them, but they seem mostly unimpressed with the groundskeeper's meager offerings. "The leaf thing is the standard seasonal tour that most of the tourists go for. Our guide does private hikes all over the property and surroundings, though."

Which from what he understands is generally to keep people from getting lost constantly.

Vic chuckles. "I did, but I forgot my sack lunch. It's too bad, I had Fruit Rollups and everything." He pauses to watch the ducks turn their bills up at bread crust and then waddle on down to the water. He hadn't even known ducks could be snooty, but maybe he shouldn't be surprised. They're not that different from geese, and geese are known to be the devil in feathered form.

"Really?" He perks up a little. "That sounds more exciting. I might have to see about scheduling one of those." The groundskeeper isn't being very helpful, not for Vic's purposes at least. He can't tell whether it's intentional or not, though. Oh well. He made small talk, laid the foundations for more informative conversation later. Now if only...

"Well," he says finally, "I'd better go back and look for those maps. Nice talkin' to ya. I'm Vic." He could have faked an identity for this investigation, but he didn't think it was necessary.

Edited 2014-05-07 05:55 (UTC)

"What a tragedy," Murph lets out a quick laugh, twisting half is mouth down in an amused semi-frown.

"Uh-huh. We haven't hit season peak yet, so they should have plenty of time slots available." That sounds... professional, right? Right. Nailed it. He smiles in a way that he hopes doesn't look as awkward as it feels; this has never been his forte. "Have fun. Uh, tell 'em Murphy sent you."

Maybe he can finish his lunch in peace after Vic here's wandered off.

Murphy, huh? Well, it's a start. "I'll do that." Vic nods at Murphy and ambles back the way he came. He's willing to bet the tour guide will be chattier. He pauses in the lobby long enough to schedule a private hike and then heads back to his room. Time to see what he has on that lake.

There's already too many people at the lodge. The overly friendly staff... and guests, especially guests. With more set to come, because something about leaves or whatever. Maybe hitching a ride out here wasn't the greatest of ideas.

The forest isn't terribly different from what he's used to. No sign of anything of any particular interest, even off the trails. Nothing that stands out as unnatural. Nothing to make the trek really worthwhile. He's seen trees like this a million times before. And lakes like this, too. Stumbling across the shoreline again in his aimless forest wandering mostly just gets a vague frown of a reaction.

Sure it's pretty but that's not why he's out here.

Maybe the haunted stuff was just another tourist gimmick.

The lodge is starting to fill up, and she's fairly sure it's more than just tourists coming to watch the leaves. Other things are waking up, things that sleep most of the time. She doesn't like it. She doesn't like all the guests either, so she's slowly retreating towards the more remote parts of the lake. For now she settles in in one of the forested parts. She thinks one of the trails goes by, but it's a little late for hikers today.

Or so she thinks. Suddenly someone comes stumbling out of the trees. He's too close-- way too close. Close enough that she has to freeze in place instead of fleeing for the water which is what she desperately wants. Instead she backs away slowly and quietly. Maybe she can put some distance between them before he notices her. Maybe she can get far enough away to slip into the water.

...Or she can step on a twig. She winces and freezes. Why did she have to be a tangible ghost?

It doesn't take finely tuned senses to notice that he's very much no longer alone in the woods. And then a twig snaps nearby, drawing his attention immediately to... her.

Walter has never seen a ghost before, not a real one, but that woman is definitely not of the living. It's not the skin or the hair or the rags. Those could be fake. He just knows as soon as he sees her.

He's very careful when he moves to approach her. He's not stupid enough to believe for a second that she could be entirely harmless - despite not having been sure if there was anything out here at all a moment ago. He came all this way to this stupid lodge when he heard about this. He's gonna try and talk to the ghost, he has to.

"Uh..." He trails of for a very long moment. "...Hi?"

Well. He definitely sees her. So much for hoping he'd be one of the ones who couldn't see her at all. That happens sometimes. But no, he's... walking towards her. Even though he's clearly trying to appear nonthreatening, she takes a step back as he approaches. Then another. Then... her back hits a tree. Oh god. She freezes again and glances from him to the water and back again.

He's closer when she looks back. Of course he is. And then he... talks to her. What. She wasn't really expecting that and doesn't know how to deal with it. Well. After a long moment, she opens her mouth. She tries to say something, but it's been a long time since she last said anything. (Mostly she remembers screaming.) She ends up making a croaky sort of coughing noise instead. That's... not quite what she wanted. She tries again.

"H...hello?" Now what?

She seems... frightened? Of him? Walter doesn't quite understand. She's otherworldly and beyond all this bullshit and he's just a sad lump of meat, what does she have to fear from him?

The death rattle croak is enough to startle him, but not alarm. It's just a noise. He's heard worse ones. What does surprise him is the talking.

"You're real." Walter's voice is quiet, maybe a tad bit reverent. He stretches out a hand towards her once he's close enough. His fingers light brush past some of that long hair, and lightly touch very very cold skin. As if the question of her tangibility had any kind of meaning.

Don't ask him why, though.

"Yes." That's probably not what she's supposed to say to that, but she's out of sorts enough right now that she doesn't remember how to actually respond to people. Not that she retained much of that since her death. The way he says that is odd. It's hard for her to imagine anyone sounding excited to see a ghost, and yet.

She's too busy staring at him in confusion to realize what he's doing until he's touching her. She jumps slightly, or maybe it's more of a flinch. That's... that's definitely not something she expected. She's startled enough that some of her hair wraps around his arm without her meaning it to. It just... does things sometimes. She blinks stupidly down at her hair for a moment. Now what?

There's a small part of her that considers tightening her grip and breaking his arm. The part of her that's angry all the time. But... she doesn't actually want to do that. He keeps badly startling her, but so far he seems to mean well. "I..." It's getting easier to talk, but it's still... not something she's used to doing anymore. "Why are you..." Why are you touching me? Why are you out here? Why aren't you afraid? She has a lot of questions for him that start with why.

Walter mostly just watches the tendrils hair wrap around his arm. He should have probably used his non-dominant hand, that was stupid. But there's not a ton to do now. He waits for some kind of sudden jolt of pain.

It never happens.

"Why am I what?" He curiously tugs at the hair around his arm with his free hand. It does not budge.

He pulls at the hair wrapped around his arm, but it doesn't do him any good. She can't actually feel that, but her imagination helpfully fills in the gaps anyway. His free hand is probably just as warm as the one on her arm. That's... distracting.

She looks back up from staring curiously at his hands. "Why are you..." She trails off, unsure of which question to ask first. She finally makes eye contact. He's... she can't quite remember the word, but the odd look on his face matches the way he spoke to her before. Something clicks in her brain finally. Awed. That's the word.

"Why are you here?" she asks finally.

Walter has to pause at that question. It's not an easy one to answer. After a moment, he frowns a little. "I don't know." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, shrugging. "To see if it was real."

He guesses he got his answer. He fidgets with the hair still wrapped around his arm, for lack of anything better to do.

She tilts her head and her neck cracks loudly. "It?" Does he mean something here specifically, or just... something supernatural? Either way, she guesses he got his answer.

The hair around his arm coils a little tighter. Not in a threatening way. It just... hold on more securely. She doesn't know why. "You aren't afraid of me." It doesn't quite come out as a question... because it isn't really. If he's frightened at all, he's doing a very good job of hiding it.

Walter isn't sure how to respond to that. "Yeah," He half-mumbles, after a moment. He'll stay ambiguous he guesses. If for nothing else than not really having an answer.

"No." He furrows his brows at her. "Should I be?" It's probably a fair question. That she's still got a firm grip on his arm with her, uh, hair tendrils would probably point to the answer to that being yes. At least, for most people. But Walter's not most people.

The angry part of her yells yes. Yes he should be. She ignores it for now. "Most people would be." She's not sure what makes him different from most people, but he obviously is. Touching is not the usual reaction to ghosts.

As ridiculous as it is for a ghost to find things physically uncomfortable, the tree is digging into her back unpleasantly. She cautiously takes a step forward. She doesn't think he'll mind any, but she braces herself anyway. Oh. He's taller than she thought. If she stood up straight, they'd be about the same height. "I..."

"Most people are worthless," Walter frowns down at the ground. Most people are garbage. Why should what they'd do or think matter?

She moves forward, but it takes a moment before he registers just how far she's moved. She's very close. That's... he has no idea what to do, now. She's standing very close and his hand is still on her arm. He'd let it drop, but... her hair is still very much around it. Oh. He should do something, maybe. Or say something. Mostly he just feels weirdly nervous. "Have you... have you been out here a long time?"

That's true enough. She doesn't even argue with the angry part of her on that, just nods absently.

He seems to have changed moods suddenly. She's distracted enough wondering why he's suddenly frowning that she doesn't realize she actually took more than one step until he asks her a question. Then instead of looking over at him she's looking up at him. He is very close. "I um," she stammers a little. "Yes." That's not much of an answer, but she's suddenly out of sorts again. "I'm-- I don't-- Years. I think."

And that's about when she realizes she's reached out and wrapped her hand around his arm much like he did to her. She looks down at her hand then back up at him, blinking. Why did she do that? She has no idea... but she also doesn't let go. She...

She doesn't want to. Oh.

Walter would really like to be less aware of how near the ghost has moved to him. "Oh. Um," He wants to fidget more, but that's something else he's suddenly feeling very awkward about.

"Do you have a-" He attempts what he figures is a reasonable question even for not dead people. He doesn't quite manage to spit it all out before abruptly cutting himself off when she puts her hand on his arm. It startles him enough that he half-stumbles. It's not even how chilled her hand is, or that she's a ghost. Someone is willingly touching him and that's more than enough to throw him off balance in basically every way.

He stumbles toward her. Instinctively she grips his arms more securely with both hand and hair, straightens up, and takes another half step forward. It stops him from falling, but she's now even closer. She... she doesn't mind. She should, but she doesn't.

"Do..." She's now eye to eye with him, instead of looking up. Her throat feels scratchy even though it shouldn't. She tries again. "Do I have a what?" Now that he's not in danger of falling (if he ever actually was), she should back up. She's not sure she wants to.

Walter really, truly has no idea what to do with himself. He's not used to interaction, fullstop, and he's gone and nearly stumbled into this woman. Ghost? Ghost woman. And the only reason she didn't is because she held him steady. He swallows hard and tries not to think about that, much.

"Do you have a name?" He chokes out after a moment. She's very tall. She's not moving away. Her hair and hand is still on him, and... it occurs to him that he hasn't moved his, either. Um.

He hasn't moved away. She's surprised. "No. Not anymore." She looks away, out at the lake. She shrinks back in on herself a little and shuffles back until her grip on his arm stretches her own arm enough to tug slightly. Oh. Right. She looks back at him. "I used to. Before."

She's not sure anymore if she truly doesn't remember or if she discarded it in anger. It doesn't really matter. "What's your name?"

She moves back. Walter wonders for a moment if that was maybe the wrong thing to ask - though her hand's still on his arm, tugging a little. "Oh," He frowns lightly. "I'm sorry."

That's what you say, right? He's pretty sure.

He wants to scootch forwards but mostly ends up shifting awkwardly in place, fidgeting with the hair wrapped around his arm again. "I'm Walter."

She shrugs, or tries to. It's a little tricky with both arms occupied. She can really only hunch her shoulders, but close enough. She's not sure what to say about that. She's pretty sure it wasn't a very good name anyway.

He looks upset again. She frowns. "Walter," she starts, testing out his name. It's nice. "Are you... okay?" It occurs to her that he probably doesn't appreciate his space being invaded. Oh. Right. She should probably let go and back up... but she can't bring herself to do it. Not until he asks, anyway.

Edited 2014-05-18 05:27 (UTC)

Walter awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm, um," He hesitates. He doesn't even know how to begin to answer that. That he was sad she moved away? No. There's no way he's going to manage to spit that out. He's quietly working towards a sort of terrified that ends in autopilot and fleeing, but not really because of her particular otherworldliness. "I'm - I'm fine."

He's a mess.

She's frowning, too. And... bleeding? He furrows his brow at the trickle of red down her face. "You're hu--" He cuts himself off mid-sentence, squinting his eyes closed briefly in frustration at himself. Of course she's hurt, idiot, she's dead. "You're bleeding," He says after a short moment. And before he quite realizes what he's doing, he moves his hand to wipe that off her.

Walter seems really uncomfortable, but she's not sure there's anything she can do about it. Maybe he's just awkward like she is. Who knows.

Oh. Right. "Oh, that just hap--" She inhales sharply as Walter reaches out and touches her face. More tendrils of hair shoot up and wrap around his hand and wrist, which isn't quite as subconscious as it was the first time. It takes a long moment to realize that she's leaning into the hand on her face and that she's probably gripping Walter's arm a little too tightly. Oops. She loosens her grip slightly.

"I um..." She's not actually sure if she can blush anymore. It seems like something a ghost shouldn't be able to do, but she does a lot of things she didn't think ghosts could do. Whether she's actually blushing or not, her face feels heated like she is. She looks down at nothing in particular. She... she shouldn't, but she shuffles closer anyway. She knows it's a bad idea, but she can't make herself care right now. At least the only real consequence is emotional. There are some perks to being a ghost.

If Walter had thought about that, even a little bit, he would not have done it. But it does not occur to him to ponder his actions until his hand is on her face.

More of that hair coils around him, and again he finds himself distantly waiting for some kind of pain that never actually happens. Then she leans in to his hand, scooting closer. Her face is very cold and maybe a little pinker than it had been a moment ago.

Walter's face, however, suddenly feels more warmer than it should be. Is that normal? He's never been good with normal, even when not dealing with ghost women. He should probably say something, too; he just doesn't know what. He manages the beginnings of a going-to-talk noise, not really noticing he's leaned a little closer in the meantime. He's too busy trying to figure out if he should maybe talk more or not.

He's blushing. Walter's blushing. And leaning in. Maybe this isn't a terrible idea. Either way, she straightens back up and leans in toward him. She's glad they're nearly the same height. Pulling Walter down to her first would probably be beyond her right now honestly. This, though. This she can manage. Barely.

She kisses Walter before she can think better of it. There are a lot of reasons why she shouldn't. Instead of thinking about any of them, she slides her hand from his arm up to his shoulder. More of her hair reaches up to wrap around him, but she's aware that might not be welcome. So instead the tendrils of hair hang in the air tentatively, not quite touching him.

Walter's still dwelling on what, if anything, he should do or say, when the ghost woman is straightening up and leaning towards him.

Then she kisses him. He freezes in place, eyes wide, brain not quite catching up to what's happening until it's very much happening. She's kissing him. People don't kiss him; people don't even touch him. He can't even manage a real reaction to it. He just... goes blank. Shuts down completely. Even breathing requires too much brainpower, and he is very much incapable of any, at the moment.

It's been a while since she's kissed anyone, but... this is not what's supposed to happen. Even if it takes her a moment to realize that Walter is just... not doing anything. He's not even breathing. Is--

Is she doing something to him without realizing it? She breaks the kiss and pulls back. No, he doesn't look any different. He just... oh. Oh. Right. "I-I'll just-- I--" If she were still alive, she'd be having a hard time breathing right now. As it is, she still can't finish a sentence. She backs away, down towards the water.

"I... sorry." She turns to disappear into the lake, stumbling a little in her haste to just get away.

Pavel isn't exactly sure what to do with himself after having arrived. The friends he came with already managed to weasel their way onto one of the tours to some historical thing or other, while Pavel was diligently waiting on his cell to finish charging. Oh, well. He'll catch one of those later, he figures.

Left to his own devices, young Mr. Chekov quickly realizes there's a lot of interesting things about the lodge. Lots of things... for Instagram. His accomodations are the first thing he goes on a picture taking spree in. Not long after, and he's lurking around the main lodge, snapping away with his cellphone happily. At anything that even looks remotely interesting, too, because why not.

Vic's lurking around in the lobby today. The nice part where you can sit and read a book or whatever it is people do. Very public. Hard to find someplace to set up shop that doesn't make him twitchy. But he's here for a reason, he'll deal with it. One of the gaggle of college kids wanders in taking pictures. Not quite what he was hoping for, but he'll make do.

"It's really uh, scenic here, isn't it?" Vic calls from his little table. He's got a coffee and a newspaper he's been ignoring. The latter, not the former. He'd never ignore a good cup of coffee.

Pavel startles a little from the sudden voice from somewhere behind him,over by the tables. He hadn't exactly overlooked this guy. Just... had perhaps gotten a little lost in his picture taking.

Once he's over the initial surprise, he turns to smile politely at the other man. Guest? Probably. "Oh, yes. Wery scenic." He awkwardly shuffles his ceel between his hands. It's rude to keep fussing at its screen, isn't it? "Wery... rustic, I think is the right vord?"

That's a lot of accent. Russian. Sounds kind of like something out of a Bond film. Vic grins good naturedly at the kid. "Yeah, rustic's a good word for it. I feel like I oughtta be wearing plaid and eating pancakes." That's outdoorsy, right? Or maybe Vic shouldn't have skipped breakfast.

"This place has a lot of history too, I hear," he adds after a minute and a sip of coffee. "And ghosts, if you're into that." Vic scratches at the back of his neck like he's embarrassed to have brought it up.

"Plaid and pancakes," Pavel repeats, brows furrowed curiously. "Is zat some kind of american tradition?" It's not one he's ever heard of, at least. But America is very big and has a lot of weird things it does just because.

"I heard a little bit about the ghosts." That's a lie; he heard a lot, mostly ridiculous sounding things from his friends. Ghosts? Really? "Wery spooky," He adds, emphasizing it with a dumb spooky ghost noise.

"I think the plaid is a lumberjack tradition," Vic says. That's not entirely a joke. "The pancakes might just be my stomach talking." If this were a sitcom, his stomach would growl on cue. Fortunately, it's not and it doesn't. That would be terrifying.

"Not a fan, huh?" He chuckles at the spooky noise. "Maybe it was the groundskeeper in a mask the whole time."

"Oh. It vould be, I guess." Pavel's expression doesn't get any less confused. Is this man a lumberjack? He doesn't look like a lumberjack to Pavel, but he doesn't really know. "Pancakes are nice though." As if that needs saying.

"Not really. Seems a bit... silly to believe in zat stuff." He laughs quietly, a tad apologetically. He actually feels bad about that, as if he's somehow insulting the hotel people with his vocal skepticism.

Vic seems to have confused the poor kid with his plaidcake talk. He feels a little bad. Guess Russia doesn't have lumberjacks. "I hear they make good pancakes here," he says after a moment. "Too bad I slept through breakfast, huh?"

Vic shrugs good-naturedly. "Yeah, probably. I always thought it was kinda silly people believe in Bigfoot when it's obviously Elvis in hiding." He gives the kid a grin somewhere between 'I can't believe I just said that' and 'Vics gonna Vic.' He winks for good measure.

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[prologue]

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