Chapter Text
His alarm clock rings with a shrill cry. He can't help but slam his hand down on it.
Solar glares at it with a burning passion, wishing he could just throw it at the far wall and watch it break with a satisfying crack. It's one of his dreams actually.
But he can't afford to do that. Literally.
So he drags himself out of bed, straight into the kitchen where his ancient coffee machine roars to life. The smell of the bitter liquid is enough to make him feel more awake, even if as an animatronic it shouldn't work on him, or at least not as much. The first sip is divine.
He leans against the counter, eyeing his calendar with annoyance.
It's the first day of summer, which is part of the optimal fishing season. Which means waking up early and trying to make some money. Just like almost everyone else on this island.
His chances of financial survival are looking brighter every day.
But still, money is money, even if it's only a really small amount. So fishing it is, because Solar doubts there's anyone who needs maintenance for anything and would accept his help.
Curse islanders and their distrust towards everything really.
He can already feel today will be absolute trash.
***
The docks are full of people, as are all the areas around it. So with a sigh he prepares himself for a walk.
Why did he bother coming here when he knew it will be full?
He swings back by his house to grab himself lunch, which is a fish sandwich, because meat is expensive as fuck when you live on an island and the primary food source is fish. And he's broke.
The sun is pleasant on his casing, the sounds of the waves soothes him, and the scent of the salty sea makes his shoulders untense. It's these little things that make living here worth it. Make the judgemental people bearable, make the constant threat of no money feel just the slightest bit less daunting and make loneliness into something that's easy to ignore.
Maybe he could do with less fish, but that one's like, the least of his annoyances. Especially when someone catches a big batch of crabs or clams. And don't even get him started on lobster.
It makes the walk rather nice as well. Makes it seem shorter.
His boots sink into the sand uncomfortably as he comes to a stop, eyeing the waterside for a spot he could set up shop. Preferably one with minimal sand.
Sand gets everywhere
He clutches his fishing rods closer, checking the bucket with his bait again. So far his equipment is fine.
He clambers onto a stone outcrop, lighting up as he notices a secluded tide pool near a cave entrance with plenty of fish. Poor creatures must have been washed there with the waves, and got stuck there.
It seems deep enough from here, and well, he did want a spot with minimal sand.
He can just sit here on the rock and reel in whatever he catches. And if the fish don't bite there, he can always turn towards the open sea.
Brilliant really. Even if he won't make much money, at least his stuff won't be full of sand.
He plucks a still wiggly worm onto the hook, throwing the line into the water.
He leans back, because now it's the waiting game. Possibly for hours.
As it will be tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and then that too.
Life's great and full of adventures.
...
He should have brought a book with himself.
...
He could maybe still go back..?
Just as he thinks that he feels a light tug, and he comes to life suddenly as he begins pulling on the rod, reeling with practised efficiency.
It's not that big of a struggle, especially because he tinkered with all his fishing rods a bit, so he knows it can easily handle any fish in this area.
Soon enough, he's pulling up what seems to be a tuna, and he's real curious how one got this far from open waters, but stranger things have happened.
He throws it in his ice box, already putting on a new bait and throwing it back in. This time it doesn't take long enough for something to bite either. This time it's a mackerel.
Alright, so maybe the little tide pool is shallow and small enough so the fish don't have enough space to really spread out. Which does make his life easier.
And with all the different kinds of fish, he may make an acceptable amount of profit, so he's not in the red anymore.
He loses how many fish he caught, blanking out as the sun continues towards its peak, then begins its long journey downward. He's only absently aware his body is still going through the motions.
He only startles back to attention when something heavy tugs on his rod.
What in the hell?
He begins reeling, grunting in effort. Just what is on this thing?!
He pulls with all his might, mind filled with wild thoughts and guesses, but the most important thing in his mind is the potential profit this may bring.
If it's some sort of small shark, he can sell that to some tourist. Those buy almost anything.
He gives one final heave of effort, watching as whatever he caught sails through the air towards him, and fear freezes him for a moment.
The brown flash, and the flippers he thinks he sees attached almost make him throw his fishing rod in the hopes he can somehow undo catching the little guy, who's rather lost from his natural habitat, but it's too late. The hook is probably embedded in the thing's mouth, so Solar will have to take it out carefully.
He doesn't even consider how seals don't really eat worms in that moment. All he's focused on is panic.
And then the line stops, and Solar's left staring at whatever the fuck he just caught.
Big, glowing, yellow eyes stare back at him with fear, little hands he saw as flippers at first flailing around as it squirms in the air, trying to get free.
A mer
He's heard of the tales of course, heard of the creatures that lurk beneath the water, dragging unsuspecting people in. He knows they supposedly have a beautiful singing voice, drawing sailors to their dooms.
Oh no
It's brown, with lighter, orangish spots on it, separating the body into two colours in an incriminatingly familiar fashion, it has see-through green and purple frills on its body, there's a long appendage coming out of the back of its head, ending in what seems to be a lightbulb, marked with a lighter, dirty cream coloured ridge that goes around the entirety of the head. From what he can see of the mouth, that seems to be glowing too.
It's thin. Too much so in Solar's opinion, which makes him realise just why it bit.
It's also young. It's just a baby he thinks. A small, starving baby.
"Just what are you?"
Its small fins flare, mostly in fear, and he notes absently how the ends first become the same dirty cream colour as the head ridge, before fading into a similarly vibrant orange as the eyes.
The little mer is beautiful. He doesn't know why he thinks that.
It's also terrified out of its mind, hissing at him wildly, but he can see its tiny body shake. In its mouth is his hook, and he winces.
There's a bit of unnaturally blackish blood there, dripping lightly from its mouth. The little one, probably half starved out of its mind, didn't notice the glint of metal in the water, too focused on the wiggling worm. Or perhaps it doesn't even know what a hook is.
Oh god, did Solar kill a baby? Did he fuck up so bad?!
His brother was fucking right. He hurts everything he touches.
But he can't just leave the little mer like this, mystical monster as it may be, so he slowly, carefully, puts his rod down, not taking his eyes off the panicky infant.
Is it an infant? God fuck, please tell him he didn't just maim an infant.
"Okay little guy, I'm not going to hurt you"
He tries speaking as slowly and calmly as he can, but the little mer still hisses at him when he begins slowly reaching out. Solar only grits his teeth, and continues.
"I won't hurt you"
It flinches away the moment he makes contact with it, batting at him with its hands. It seems to have claws, currently sharp little pinpricks against his casing. But he knows one day they will be able to shred him.
His fingers reach behind its head, and it closes its eyes, locking up from sheer fear. Something in him breaks at the sight for some reason.
He slowly opens its mouth, reaching in carefully until he can feel the hook. When it whimpers, he stills for just a second, overcome with a strange sense of protectiveness.
What is going on with him?
He carefully unhooks the sharp metal, pulling it out of the mer's mouth slowly, and then lets go. The little one, still with scrunched together eyes, doesn't move. It just waits for something.
Solar leans back, inspecting the hook with anger. He doesn't know where exactly it's coming from.
The little mer doesn't move, still frozen tense, expecting pain, and it breaks something even more in him. The little one should not be so afraid of him. He won't hurt it. Even if it wasn't a child, he still wouldn't hurt it.
After a bit, when nothing bad happens, the mer opens its eyes, blinking curiously towards him.
It still looks wary, but its attention is taken by the fish he caught. It eyes his ice box with big eyes, letting out a tiny chirp, only to flinch, looking back at him again with wide eyes.
...
He can't give it the fish he just caught! It's too small to get such big fish! What if it chokes? What if it can't eat it? What if it can't tear the meat?
But he also can't leave it hungry!
He rummages through his bag, taking out his lunch for today with a sigh, glad the sardines in it are so small now. This way he won't have to worry about the little one not able to eat it or something, and it's not like he really likes sardines anyway.
Big orange eyes widen, and the tiny mer begins chirping wildly. It looks very silly.
"Alright, no need to look at me like that"
He slips the first sardine out, gently throwing it at the little one who wolfs it down in one big gulp. It continues looking at him hungrily, its chirping becoming even louder than before.
The second sardine disappears just as fast into its stomach, as do the third, fourth and fifth ones. The sixth, which is his last, is eaten more moderately, and the tiny mer eyes him curiously. Its previous wariness has disappeared.
"There. Is that better?"
The mer baby makes another chirping noise at him, this one different from the others. It's a curious one he thinks?
It slides closer, small, webbed hands dragging it on the rock, and then it's right before him, looking at him. And then it just stares.
Solar, unsure what it wants, sighs, looks through his caught fish, and hands it the smallest, a tiny codfish. Orange eyes light up at its sight, and the little mer makes grabby hands at it.
"Ah, figures you are still hungry. You must have gotten washed in there during the last storm"
He tears the cod in half, grimacing as its juices fly everywhere, then begins shredding smaller, bite sized pieces of it with his claws. The little on doesn't hesitate gobbling them down the moment they're laid before it.
They fall into a rhythm, one he has to admit is rather soothing, where Solar breaks a piece off, puts it on the ground, and small hands grab it and take it to a wide mouth. He doesn't notice how the little one is inching closer and closer to him until a bite gets taken directly from his hand.
He stills for a moment, but continues quickly, lest the little one complain, but the tiny mer just does it again, and again, until there's no more fish left, and it looks quite satisfied, dare he say, even a bit sick.
Maybe he shouldn't have let a starving baby eat quite so much. That's not good.
It lays down on the rock, and he chuckles at just how flat the little one is trying to make himself. It must be comfortably warm for it.
Solar just focuses back on the tide pool, eyeing it a bit sullenly.
Here's to hoping he doesn't pull another starving baby mer out from it.
The baby next to him watches intrigued as he puts a worm on a different rod's hook, then throws it in the water. It looks at him weirdly for it, and he chuckles again.
Such a judgmental baby
But when he pulls a fish, another tuna, out, it lights up, chittering at him loudly. He makes a noncommittal sound, just so it's not too discouraged.
The next couple hours pass like this: the little mer makes noises at him as he fishes, and he occasionally answers back with a sentence, but mostly just hums. It doesn't seem to matter either way, the little one just happy to 'talk' to him.
He only realises just how late it is when the warm rays of sunshine, now a dazed orange instead of vibrant white, shine directly into his optics.
"Ah jeez, this late already?"
He probably missed the afternoon market, but the fish should sell well in the morning anyway.
The tiny mer beside him makes a curious noise, and he turns to look at it fully. It looks even smaller than before.
"I should probably help you back into the water"
He places his rod down, reaching out slowly to the baby. It doesn't move away from him, simply continuing to look with its big orange eyes. When his fingers finally wrap around it carefully, it seems to light up.
It begins chirping, chittering and even yowling at him with new energy, wiggling its tiny body enthusiastically, and he laughs outright as a tiny tail slaps repeatedly into his arm.
"Okay, okay, no need to be this excited!"
It's joyful enthusiasm is infectious, at least it must be, because he can't stop himself from grinning at the little one, who seems to be smiling back just as widely, if not wider. Little hands wrap around his arm.
All too soon, they're by the waterside, and he gently eases the little one into the open sea. It almost vibrates out of its tiny body before he lets it go, and then it's shooting off, doing laps in the water. Solar leans back on his haunches, eyeing it go with a small smile.
But he should really get going, so he stands with a sigh, catching the attention of the baby. It looks back at him as he moves away, then begins yowling again.
"What? I fed you and let you back into the sea."
It still continues, looking at him pathetically, and he just sighs.
"I really don't know what you want from me."
He begins the longish track back home, all the while his tiny little, incredibly loud, shadow keeps following him.
It should be annoying, and while it is, it's mostly just adorable.
"What?! Do I have something you want? Do you want more fish?"
He reaches into his ice box to grab another fish, but it doesn't even look at it. It continues to look at him.
And then it dawns on him
"No, no! Absolutely not! I can't take you back home with me!"
It just whines loudly, continuing to look sad and pathetic, and continuing to follow him, back towards the village.
And while Solar lives on its outskirts with no neighbours for at least half an hour, he's sure they would absolutely hear the stupid little thing crying if it keeps this up.
"I can't put you anywhere!"
But it just keeps following him, and now it looks downright miserable. Something in Solar clenches.
"Fine! Fine!"
He throws his things on the ground, bemoaning how it will be all sandy, and trudges over to the water's edge. He's not even surprised the little one is making grabby hands at him already.
He hoists it out of the water, keeping it in the air to scrutinise it a bit more. It just smiles at him.
"I think you might be a boy? Maybe? Female mers are supposed to be fluffy I think??"
He really doesn't know. Which just adds another point to why he's so goddamn unqualified to take care of a baby mer.
But it's, he's?, looking at him so innocently, so joyfully, with all the affection only a baby is capable of.
Fuck
He faceplants into the baby's tummy, letting out a deep groan. It only giggles, petting his head.
"I'm going to regret this"
He doesn't put him back in anyway
***
Opening his front door while his hands are full of either his bait bucket and the ice box or squealing baby mer is a nightmare he only wishes on the elderly human lady that always scrunches her face up in disgust whenever she sees him specifically.
But he somehow does it, so he's left standing, trying to figure out where the hell he should put the baby down. If he'll even allow Solar to put him down.
He somehow manages to balance everything to his kitchen counter, putting the baby down much to his audible displeasure.
"Don't give me attitude! I can't carry you and put down everything else!"
The little one just looks like he will cry. Which is really unfair in Solar's opinion.
But when he doesn't immediately pick him back up, the little mer grabs onto him, pulling himself up with his shirt. It startles him for a second, which almost sends the little idiot flying, but they somehow avoid that fate. If only by the might of his robotic reflexes.
He doesn't dare to turn to look at the baby lest he sends him flying, especially when he curls into a ball between his neck and shoulder, nuzzling away at the rays closest to him. It sends a buzzing feedback, strange, but not uncomfortable.
He feels a strange warmth spread in him, one he never experienced before. It strengthens when tiny hands slap lightly at his cheek.
"Comfortable there?"
The little one lets out a trilling sound, nuzzling even more into him. Then it lets out a big yawn.
"What? Tired already? It's still bright out there"
The baby of course ignores this, because it's just a baby. A very cute one, mind you, but a baby nonetheless.
And well, he can admit he's rather tired as well. Maybe going to bed early is just what he needs.
He puts most of his equipment away, having to smile at the little snoring he hears from the right. Someone has fallen asleep.
If only he didn't have to bathe still.
The little one is not appreciative when Solar plucks him off, tiny face scrunching adorably, and he's honestly terrified just how fast something so small got him under its power. He usually never gets attached so quickly.
"I know, you just want to nap"
Is it even safe for mer's to bathe? Fuck, should he test it?
But when he places the baby down on the floor, so he can take a quick shower then bathe, sad orange eyes look at him. So he sighs, taking the baby into his arms.
He wonders when he grew so weak
Luckily it doesn't seem like there're any allergic reactions. The baby just tries to drink the lotion, which while not great, is avoidable.
It's a bit harder with the bubbles when he's soaking, where the little one is swimming in them and thus has an easier time. It results in him having to hold it to his chest, just so the silly little thing doesn't make itself sick.
"I should probably name you"
Almost like it knows what's happening, the little mer looks up at him curiously. It's eyes are shining with the same warm affection as before.
Alright Solar, you have to give this some thought. The name has to be special, powerful, mystical even—
"Jack"
Fuck, why did he say that?
But little arms are already waving, the now named Jack wiggling his entire body at being named. Solar doesn't know if he actually understands what he just said, or if he just sensed the significance.
But now he can't take it back, unless he wants to confuse the little one.
So he sighs, reclining back and hugging the tiny mer to himself.
***
His alarm ringing makes him groan, and he turns it off with a tired sigh. On his chest, a tiny weight curls up more.
For a second he's absolutely terrified, because he does not fucking have a cat, how did one get in here?!
And then he remembers it's probably the little mer he ended up bringing home yesterday. That makes him calm down, and relax back into the sheets.
Fuck, he brought a little mer home yesterday!
His optics snap open, a rarity without his coffee, zeroing in on the sleeping Jack, who's since slid down from his chest into his lap. Little webbed hands are kneading at his stomach.
Oh fuck, what was he thinking?! He's not fit to raise a mer! Especially not on a prejudiced island in the middle of nowhere!
If his neighbours find out they're going to scrap him for parts!
And lest said about what they will do to Jack the better! They would pluck the little one's scales off one by one, cut off his fins and frills, and cut him up to pieces! He can't let that happen!
"Alright Solar, you are getting ahead of yourself. Nothing bad happened yet, and you will probably be alone by this night when you let him back into the sea."
Yes, it will be fine. The little mer is probably only here to recuperate. And then he will be gone later.
He tries to ignore the sadness that leaves him with.
***
Having left little Jack in a nest of blankets and having grabbed the fish he caught yesterday he sets out for the market. He tries to ignore how he left one of his tunas back at the house for the little one to eat.
The market, like usual, is abhorrent. He hates it here.
But he needs the money, so he grits his teeth and smiles.
He's already in the reds, he doesn't need to actually fall into full poverty. Reaching the yellows would be great.
He barely fights off the urge to bang his head into the table as the morning progresses and he has to deal with judgemental people. He only gets through because his catch today seems particularly attractive to customers, and before noon he's already left with no fish.
Now he just needs to catch some more. No biggie
He should probably smuggle the tiny mer with him.
***
Arriving back home is an experience, especially when he's greeted by a pathetic sad baby fish on the ground crying his little heart out, making grabby hands at Solar the moment he's in view. It makes him realise one thing.
There's no fucking way the mer is leaving him
Not just because it clearly decided he's its adult now, but also because the moment he saw the stupid little thing on the floor he realised just how tense he was during the day, simply because he didn't get to see the little fishy.
So in a moment of weird instinct fuelled genius, he made one of his hoodies into a DIY baby carrier, which Jack seems to really love.
He's still wiggling in pure happiness as he's carried, blabbering up at Solar as he makes the trek back towards the tide pool they met at. It's adorable, and makes him smile.
This time, he sets up shop on a shadowed stone outcrop facing the open sea, which means he can put the baby safely into the water and be near in case anything happens. The little one seems to appreciate it too, frolicking about in the water with boundless energy.
He seems to be in a better condition since yesterday. It's probably the multiple meals.
It'll need more if he wants it back in optimal shape. It's too thin right now.
The day passes like this: Solar watches the little one swim around, except for when there's a catch. Then he reels the fish in, puts it in the ice box, rinse and repeat. Sometimes Jack will swim up to him curiously, wanting a moment of contact.
It's nice like this. Calming too.
When it's lunch time, he takes out the salmon slices he's been saving for a while, plucks the baby out of the water, and begins feeding.
The little mer is appreciative of the snack, gulping each piece down like he won't get any later. It breaks something in him.
Just how long has he been alone?
After lunch, the little one curls up with him while Solar eats too. The little weight at his side is strangely grounding.
And perhaps, for the first time in a while, he's not just thinking about the bad.
***
That night Jack is especially energetic when Solar tries washing him, this time opting to bathe the little mer first before himself, and he's getting a bit tired of the constant splashing honestly.
He lets out a deep sigh as his face is introduced to the bath water for the nth time, reaching for the towel he placed by the tub. Which, he was planning on drying the baby with. Not himself.
"Alright, someone's very excited"
It can't be dinner, the little mer probably not realising he's going to get any. Despite how it got some yesterday.
It can't be because of some toy, Solar hasn't gotten any for it yet.
Then what is it? Is it just typical child stuff?
Jack chirps up at him, waving with his webbed little hands towards his face. He just blinks.
"Do you want me to lean closer?"
Despite the lack of answer, he leans closer. Somehow he still doesn't expect for his face to be grabbed.
The little mer babbles some more at him, one hand patting his face, and then he takes a deep breath and begins singing.
Solar has heard the rumours about mer songs before. How they enchant you, how they bewitch you. He knows they supposedly contain magic.
But all that's in his mind is just how beautiful it is.
Sure, Jack doesn't exactly have the kind of voice that's traditionally pleasing, but the earnest way the baby sings makes it a simple kind of beautiful.
He feels some strange tug in his centre, but he's too busy listening to really pay it any attention.
When Jack finally stops, big orange eyes blink up at him, and a loopy smile spreads across the little face.
Despite himself, Solar smiles back.
***
Life falls into another routine, but this one is a little brighter.
He's not alone for one, even if Jack is rather unpredictable company. Even for a baby he thinks, but he can't really know that, seeing as he's never seen a baby before, especially not a mer one.
And for two, for some reason he's been bringing in more profit. Almost as if he's been blessed by some sort of fortune god.
Solar's not complaining. He doesn't mind the sudden monetary stability.
He also doesn't mind the little mer who attached itself to him, insisting on following him around wherever he goes.
Jack is in much better shape now, with some of that baby fat returning. He's also figured out how to crawl across the floor, so now Solar sometimes has to throw himself to the ground so the little idiot doesn't crash into anything. But he's getting quite fast on the ground.
He also seems bigger now than he was. Not by much, but it's noticeable if you're a machine.
It's nice living like this. He can admit he's happier.
He never really thought he'd be the type to get a child, but life is strange sometimes.
And he wouldn't change anything for the world.
***
One day he wakes up to incessant bapping, which makes him groan and pluck the laughing fish off of him. The little one is unapologetic and cute, giving him a big goofy smile.
Solar just sighs, pulling his pillow over his head
"It's early as hell Jack"
The little mer giggles, tiny hands slapping at his chest. Despite himself, he can't quite stop a smile.
"Dad! Get up!"
He hums, takes a couple seconds to process, then jumps out of the bed in fright.
Jack just continues giggling.
"Wha- What?"
"Dad you're so silly!"
Solar blinks down at the little mer, who just continues to smile up at him, now reaching towards him in the universal pick me up gesture.
"Since when do you talk?"
"I always did! You just didn't understand me dad! But finally my songs worked and now you can understand me!"
He can't help it, he raises a hand and slaps himself. The baby- the child lets out a startled squeak, reaching towards him with clear worry.
"Why did you do that!?"
Okay no, still talking.
Fuck, if this is a dream he's going to fry something in his sleep.
"I thought you were a baby??"
Jack blinks up at him, once, twice, then bursts out into laughter. His little tail slaps the bed, getting caught in the blanket and throwing it off.
"I am not! I'm just small!"
He's hallucinating isn't he? Or he's somehow managed to get high. One or the other.
"Father, pick me up! I'm baby"
"We just discussed you weren't"
But he picks him up anyway, hugging the little one to his chest. Small arms wrap around his neck, just like usual.
"But you thought I'm baby, so I am baby"
"Sure bud"
Perhaps this is not a bad thing. If only because this way, he actually knows he hasn't been failing in everything.
"Then what is your name?"
"Jack!"
"That's what I named you"
"Yes, and I like it! I haven't had a name before!"
That's sad. But the small mer doesn't seem to realise that. Which is, perhaps good.
For all he knows, mers don't even name themselves. Or the kid chooses a name later, or whatever the fuck.
"Alright, then Jack it is"
***
Jack, unsurprisingly honestly, is a chatterbox who can't stay quiet to save his life. He also has no filter
Which is why Solar knows the reason his sponges have been disappearing is because he has been eating them. That was not a fun conversation to have.
But now that he knows he's not actually dealing with a baby, he feels much better whenever he has to discipline him. Which usually just means no cartoons and no grabs for a bit. As well as taking away access to the occasional snack he sometimes buys.
Another good discovery out of it is that this way Jack can help, by gathering clams, oysters and crabs while Solar's fishing. Most of the time those are kept for themselves, because it'd be suspicious if he was suddenly bringing in delicacies every single time. But once a month it's not that strange.
No one questions his lack of equipment for it
And it also gives the little mer something to do, so he's not as energetic as he usually is.
They make a good team. Which makes him happy. It fills him with a sense of belonging.
It fills him with love
***
"Seems you have grown bud"
He's taken to marking the mer's size, ever since he begged him to because of a cartoon he saw, on the bathroom floor. Seeing as standing is not really an option for him.
Jack doesn't mind it, always wiggling around excitedly. Probably because he always surprises Solar with how much he grows from day to day.
"At this rate you won't fit into the house"
"Noo!"
He chuckles, scratching along the ridge on the child's head. He leans into it, purring happily.
Seems like the momentary panic was forgotten.
"Don't worry bud"
He plucks Jack off the floor, hugging him to his chest. The tiny mer nuzzles into him, just like usual. It's an endearing little quirk of his.
"Even if you become a giant predator, we will figure something out for you"
His son just giggles, settling onto the table where he's placed calmly. But Solar freezes
Son
He just referred to the little mer as a son
But is he wrong..?
He shakes his head, rays pulling in and pushing back out in a mimicry of a loading sign. He can worry about this later.
Now, he needs to make breakfast. Fish pancakes sound good.
And well, if Jack lights up at the smell, then the sight of the funnily shaped meat pancakes, then it's all the better.
***
They're back out at the tide pool they've met at months ago, but this time he doesn't have any fishing equipment.
They're out here, because Jack needs to learn to hunt.
And well, this tide pool is always refilled back in during storms too, so there're lots of unlucky fish stuck in there.
And it's a small enough pool of water that nothing dangerous should be in it. No orcas, no dolphins, no sharks, no nothing. Just fish to be caught.
"Now, I have no idea how you should hunt, but I'm fairly certain you can do it"
Jack's frills and fins have grown too, his frills dragging elegantly behind him whenever he swims. He's quite fast now, both on the ground and in the water, and his claws are sharp and menacing when he lets them out. Because apparently mers can pull them back.
His son looks at him unsurely, and he smiles at him reassuringly.
"Come on dude. You are an apex predator of the sea. You can figure it out"
It'd probably be better if he had an adult to show him, but Solar can't exactly call up his non-existent mer friends to show his child how it's done. As practical as that would be.
Jack is also in that awkward pre-teen/teen phase where his limbs are longer than they should be, and he's very clumsy with them. But in this case, it's his fins and frills that are the problem.
The little mer slips into the water, all meek all of a sudden. It makes him bark out a short laugh, which just makes Jack send a withering glare in his direction.
The little brat looks at him with big, wet eyes, but he's not fooled. He knows he's not offended really.
His son does a couple circles in the pool, apparently trying to find a fish he wants to catch, or maybe he's just procrastinating. Either one is possible.
"Jack, you won't ever learn if you don't try"
The small mer grumbles at him but he does lock onto a fish, a sizeable tuna, and then he's off like a torpedo.
His tail flaps wildly, claws out and teeth ready to snap up any fish that get in his way, but Solar can already see his attempt is... rather clumsy
It turns out he was correct when the tuna takes a sharp turn, and Jack continues forward, smashing face first into the rock wall.
"Jack!"
His son pulls himself above the water, sniffing turning into outright crying before he can even get there.
He pulls the silly creature from the water, pulling him close to check his face. He sighs in relief when there're only scratches and nothing more serious.
He hugs Jack anyway, because the kid clearly needs some reassurance. He needs his dad with him.
And well, that's what Solar is.
"It's okay bud. You are fine"
Webbed hands dig into his shirt, and he's fairly certain claws pierced through his shirt, but he doesn't care. That's not important right now.
It takes a bit for the crying to subside, and even then Jack's still sniffling loudly. Kid's drooping dejectedly, looking much like a wet cat. Solar wisely keeps that observation to himself.
"Does it hurt still?"
Jack gulps first, probably because he wants to cry again, but orange eyes look up at him
"Yes"
He smiles down reassuringly, going so far as to press a little kiss to Jack's forehead, much to his giggly pleasure. A wet tail slaps his knees, but he doesn't care.
"Let's try again, okay?"
He wipes the face of his son one last time, gently slipping him back into the water, despite his clear reluctance.
"And for dinner, we are going to have some fried crab, okay?"
"YAAAAY!"
Jack throws himself into his hunting practice with vigour, and a new found determination.
Solar thinks he sees something red from the corner of his vision, but when he turns to look, there's nothing there.
He shakes his head, looking back at his son instead
***
One day when he wakes up, Jack's not in the bed with him. Which is unusual.
But he only really starts to panic when he can't find him anywhere else either. Not in the bathroom soaking in warm water, not in the kitchen grabbing a snack, not in front of the crappy tv watching cartoons, and not even under the bed.
"Jack?"
He checks every nook and cranny again, just to be sure, but nothing.
"Jack?!"
He rechecks again, then throws on a bathrobe, rushing outside.
"JACK!?"
He's so happy he lives far from his neighbours. But he'd be more happy if his son didn't run off.
"JACK! WHERE ARE YOU!?"
"Here dad!"
He whirls towards the sea, where his silly, silly little son is dragging himself out from, a wiggling bag thrown over his shoulder.
"I went hunting!"
Solar rushes towards him, dragging him out of the water. The silly creature grins at him goofily, tongue out.
"I brought lobsters!"
He holds out the bag, and sure enough, it's filled with the poor creatures to the brim. There're at least three sizy ones in there.
"That's great Jack"
He can still feel his motors running at max speed, fans kicking onto a higher notch to cool him down after his panic.
"You are grounded though"
"What?! NOOOOOOOO!"
***
Sitting alone on the beach as he fishes is weird. He's so used to Jack being with him, he doesn't really know how to fill in the silence.
He also feels watched. Multiple times he thought he saw something out of the corner of his optic, but whenever he turns, no matter if he's just subtly turning his optics, nothing's there.
But the red flashes are always there.
At one point he stops trying to check, and whatever is there stays there. Never coming closer.
Just... watching.
He's not even sure if he's not just imagining it. But given what his son is...
He's not so sure. He can never be so sure
And well, nothing really happens. So if there's something there, it's not malicious.
Yet
***
Jack is very sullen when he gets home, constantly pouting.
Solar knows how to fix it.
Jack may love sea food and sponges, but he absolutely adores spaghetti with dino nuggies. Mostly because he loves pretending he's tearing them apart. And playing with the pasta's sauce.
It honestly creates a giant mess, but for his son he'll handle it.
Even if the kitchen looks like a disaster and he needs to bathe the little mer. Again.
After dinner they curl up on the couch, with Jack wrapping himself around Solar's waist. His head this way ends up in his lap, and he runs his hand along the hat like appendage.
There're not really any cartoons playing this time of the day, but that doesn't really matter. The small mer will watch violent movies just as happily.
Is it a good idea to make a child with a hyper-active imagination watch movies like this? Not really.
Is it Solar's problem? Partially yes, but it'll be mostly the world's problem once he grows up. Which is going to happen any day at this rate. Already the mer that was previously the size of a baby is now almost as long as his legs.
When he heard people say kids grow up so fast, he thought they were just exaggerating. Now his is approaching his teen years, and it feels like he's only blinked.
And it was still so tiring. He loves his son, but he doesn't want another one. One child was enough for him.
Especially because he wasn't planning to have any in the first place.
"Dad can I come with you tomorrow?"
It's not the big orange eyes looking up at him sadly that make him nod. It's the absolute mess he knows Jack will leave if he's locked in for another day. And he needs a good swim by this point.
"Sure bud, but only if you don't disappear on me again. The island is dangerous, you know that."
"But there were no humans around!"
Solar sighs. He knows this probably feels unfair to his son, but he doesn't want any of the folk here to find him. They might hurt him, or worse.
It's better no one ever even learns the little mer is around.
"But there could have been. Look, I'm not saying you can't go explore, but you have to ask me first, okay?"
Jack pulls away, glaring at the ground. When he tries reaching for him, he remains tense.
"Okay dad"
"Thanks son"
***
The next day Jack is extremely grumpy when Solar leaves for the morning market first. He clearly wants to be out.
But he's heard, or pretended to hear, enough of Solar's lectures about the importance of selling at least some of their catch that he probably could repeat it in his sleep. Which makes him slightly proud, because his boy is so smart. If very silly.
...
Alright, no, he's very proud. And a little sad he can't carry him around like he used to when he was small. He misses the wiggling of the tiny body in his little makeshift carrier.
When he gets to the village, hushed whispers and a tense atmosphere greet him. People are looking pale and scared.
He learns why when he reaches the marketplace and he glances at the docks.
There's a fishing boat there with a giant hole torn into its side. There're deep claw marks along the metal surface that make it obvious what happened even before he comes into hearing distance of the frazzled captain.
"T'was a giant! A devil I say! It rose from the waves like it came straight from hell! It attacked the ship 'n tried sinkin' it!"
"Mer's can really do that?"
"Don't be ridiculous! Mer's attack anything they can! Those awful creatures always sink innocent ships!"
About a year ago, Solar would have agreed. But now there's this bit of suspicion in him that it might not have been the mer that attacked first.
Maybe it's because of the large harpoons still on the boat, maybe it's the net that's just a bit too reinforced for it to be for simple fish, maybe it's the necklace made from mer teeth on the man that he only recognises because of washing Jack's teeth.
So maybe he's naive, maybe he's quote on quote traitorous towards the entirety of humankind, but he has the tiny bit of feeling the mer was acting on self-defence.
"It had a ghastly crown o' horns 'n 'twas twice me size! It—"
Solar, having looked sufficiently curious about this horror story, finally turns away to set up shop at his usual place. But he keeps an eye out for anything unusual. Because people after such an attack always act a bit more erratic.
He thinks, for just a second, he sees something out of the corner of his vision again.
But then his first customer for the day arrives and he forgets about it over the gossip
***
Jack makes himself into a very excitable scarf around Solar's neckpipe. It's real amusing seeing him act like he's been locked in for days instead of the one single day.
Dramatic little fish. It's unreal how much he loves him.
"Dad can I swim in the sea? Can I? Can I?"
"Sure bud. Just don't swim off too far. And be back for lunchtime, or I'll have to eat your portion too"
"Okay dad!"
His son nuzzles against his head one last time, then slips off to drag himself the rest of the way into the water. Impatient little mer.
And now he's all alone, because Jack is off to hunt. That kid is a ball of boundless energy. With still too long frills and fins, but his tail has also started to catch up. Now he looks a little less awkward, if only barely.
He's adjusted to it by now, and has no issues moving around. It's honestly fascinating watching him move around.
Kind of sad he can't just sit around and watch him. But alas, he needs work to do.
As he sits there fishing, it almost feels like he's just avoided some kind of disaster. Like some kind of tension he didn't even notice just disappeared.
Especially when Jack swims back up to him to present him with all the fish he's caught. It's almost idyllic.
The sea has never felt more peaceful. He hasn't noticed before just how drawn to it he has become.
For whatever reason, he'd really like to take a dive
"Dad come swim with me!"
"Hm"
Now Solar knows how to swim in theory, but...
"Jack, I'm a machine. I can't exactly stay afloat."
"Aaaaw! But I could hold you up!"
"I don't think that's a good idea"
He could drag both of them underwater.
And Jack needs air to breathe, and he is heavy and what if he drowns? As young as he is, he probably can't hold him up.
But his son looks so dejected
...
He's really going to do this?
"I can get in the shallow parts, but not deeper."
Jack lights back up, his tail wagging behind him in happiness and splashing water around. It honestly shouldn't be possible to be this happy about such a minor thing. So Solar rolls up his pantlegs, takes off his boots and socks, and dips his toes into the water.
It's cold. Refreshingly so.
He doesn't even compute properly as he slips his feet fully in and wading in until he's standing knee deep in the sea, pants soaked despite his attempts to keep it dry, and his son is doing happy little laps around him. He's honestly a bit confused on how he got in.
"Dad come deeper! Come deeper!"
Jack swims just a bit deeper, and Solar follows with a fond huff. The kid looks like his birthday has come early. Or is it hatch day?
When is that anyway?
They continue like this a bit, his son begging for him to go just a little deeper and him following, until his chest is submerged and his toes barely reach the ground. There's some seaweed wrapping around his leg, and he swears something is crawling over him. It gets proven right when Jack dips down and comes back up with a crab.
But for just a second, just for that little bit Jack dipped underneath, he swears he saw something red in the distance. Just for a seconds.
"Come deeper?"
"I can't kid. I don't think I could swim all that well."
His son looks put out, but he bounces back quickly, a grin spreading his face.
"Well that's okay! Come catch me dad!"
"Catch you?!— Jack!"
The little mer splashes him, and oh it's on
He throws himself after his son, catching him by the tail and flinging him into deeper waters. Jack shrieks with pure joyous laughter, swimming back for another fling. Then another and another, until the chase part is completely forgotten and Solar's just throwing his son playfully around.
For some reason, he feels the approval of something. Perhaps Sunny's proud of him from beyond the grave?
The thought makes something clench in his chest from sadness, but just one look at his boy chases the feeling away, and he can't help but smile softly.
Yeah, his brother would definitely approve of his kid
***
Waking up to his fishy son sleeping on his face has sadly become common occurrence. Even if it's deeply uncomfortable.
Especially because the little body is wrapped around him tightly, and it's a chore to untangle him.
"Jack, get off of me!"
Only sleepy mumbles answer him, and he scowls.
Looks like someone's getting their sponge privileges taken away.
"If you don't let go I swear I'll make you eat raw cod for the rest of the week!"
That seems to do it
"NOOOOO!"
Jack's small body goes flying off of him, before the small mer drags himself under the blanket. When he tries reaching in to flick his 'hat' his son hisses at him.
Well then
Someone's grumpy this morning
It's especially visible when they eat breakfast, and Jack mauls his fried octopus rings to death. Which he only does when he's practically angsty about something.
"Is everything alright?"
His son only grumbles, curling into a ball in his seat on the table. Alright, he's in a real bad mood then
Perhaps it's some teenage angst? Are they far along for that?
When the little mer doesn't answer his prodding, he gives up. He'll tell him later if it's something important. Hopefully.
Do teens tell their parents stuff?
Fuck he isn't ready for this!
He grabs his ice box, half-heartedly getting ready to leave for the market, mind still filled with scenario after scenario. Some he can admit are perhaps a little ridiculous.
For one, he doesn't think his son is going to bring anyone home for a while. At least by god does he hope so. His hands are full with just the one mer!
Webbed hands grabbing him bring him out of his contemplation, and he turns to look at his kid. Orange eyes look at him with worry.
"Do you have to go?"
That's the first time he ever looked at him like that... What could be going on?
"You know we need the money bud." he takes a moment to really look Jack over, how he seems more curled in on himself than usual, how his frills keep twitching, how his eyes are shifting in worry. It all doesn't spell anything good. "Is something the matter?"
Jack shifts, his tail slapping the floor. He seems to be looking for something, but he's unsure what it could be.
"I don't know, I just feel bad..."
Which might just mean something's wrong, especially given their track record...
He kneels down, hoisting his son up until they're face to face. One of his fingers scratches along the rim of Jack's head tendril, and he leans into the touch with a little whine. Whatever he's feeling is wrong, it seems to be really weighing on him.
"I don't know why you're feeling like this," he doesn't know either whether there's anything to be actually afraid of "but I promise I'm going to be careful, okay?"
Jack is clearly not happy with just this, but nothing much Solar can do.
Aside from making sure nothing will happen to his son if there's really danger here.
"But how about you go for a swim while I'm out? You can go to the usual fishing spot and wait for me there, okay?"
He's not too enthusiastic about it, but the little mer does grab onto him, allowing himself to be taken outside more easily.
And Solar does have to admit he feels much better when Jack slips into the sea. He didn't even notice how tense he's become himself.
"I will see you later bud"
"Bye dad"
But because he looks so down and scared, he leans down to press a quick kiss to his son's forehead, staying close when small claws dig into his shirt to keep him close. His kid needs this.
And it's not like he's not willing to give his boy some affection
***
Things in the village are... tense.
He doesn't know what it could be, but people are acting shifty. They're eyeing one another weirdly, and he really doesn't know what could be wrong.
That deep feeling of anxiety and worry are heightening, and now it kind of feels like his chest is squeezing in on itself. Something in him is screaming about danger, but he has no idea what to do.
If he just books it now, that will be more dangerous. People will question him, and then they will become suspicious.
'And if they already are?'
He can't argue with that little voice in his head, especially when the mer hunter from yesterday is looking at him intently. And he's not alone.
"Dat him?"
What?
"Yes, it is! That's the animatronic with the mer!"
With the—! Fuck!
He's surrounded, the shoppers of the market closing in on him, until he's surrounded by a quickly angering mob.
Fuck, how did they find out?! How do they know?!
Play dumb Solar! They might just be suspicious!
"What mer?"
He curses inwardly as his voice cracks, but he can reasonably argue they wouldn't exactly be calm either if they were accused with something so grave. They too would be scared and terrified out of their mind!
"Mate's playin' dumb it seems! Funny when thar's a photo o' ye runnin' around, gettin' real cozy wit' one!"
Oh no
"Get him!"
Someone gets an honest to god rope out of somewhere, probably one of the mer hunter's buddies, and as others tackle him to the ground, he can't stop them from tying him. He can't fight them off, especially when there're so many of them on him. Still, he struggles.
Light flashes, and then thunder cracks through the sky, loud and heavy. Rain begins dropping from the sky, at first in slow little drips, until it turns into a downpour of rain. As he's pulled up to his feet, lightning flashes once again.
"Bring 'im t' the ship! We shall throw 'im into the water!"
Oh, that's just cruel
He tries shaking the people holding him, but he can't defeat this many. Even when the water makes the docks slippery, and when boarding is a hassle, they don't let him go.
"Wait, you don't understand"
If these people bothered to stop for a moment, if they bothered to understand—
"He's harmless!"
The head-hunter grabs his shirt, pulling on him until he's eye level. Lightning flashes above them, lighting the quickly darkening world for just a moment.
"No lad, mer's be evil. Thar's no such a thing as a harmless mer."
The ship's engine roars on, and Solar knows it's over now. The island is getting smaller, and he never learned how to properly swim. He won't be able to get back even if he escaped.
What is he supposed to do now? They're going to kill him.
At least Jack's safe
He hangs his head, not bothering to watch where they take him. It doesn't matter. The sea is the sea.
Is it going to be slow?
He barely notices as they stop, only perking up slightly when they drag him back upright. Their voices are strange, distorted, almost like they're underwater.
Which is kind of ironic.
They bring him to the edge of the boat, where he can look at the trashing sea. Despite his current situation, it's still absolutely beautiful. It's still calling out to him.
He doesn't bother to pay attention to anything else after. It's not like it matters anyway.
Which is why it comes with a surprise when they push him in, even though he knew that's what they were planning from the beginning.
He hits the water as thunder cracks above, before it's all drowned out. He looks above, seeing the outline of the ship one last time as lightning flashes again. And then it's the slowly darkening of the sea around him.
It's cold. But also, strangely peaceful. Everything's so quiet here. There're no people shouting in his audials, no thunder overtaking everything else. Just the sounds of water moving around him.
He can feel it seep into his systems, slowly overwhelming his components. His fans are already struggling to keep up, and despite being surrounded by cold, he's beginning to overheat.
His vision is starting to get hazy as everything slowly begins to shut down.
He wonders if there's any waking up from this. Or is he going to lay on the bottom of the ocean for an eternity. That sounds strangely peaceful.
But what of his boy?
His optics are blinking shut, and his limbs feel strangely heavy. There's a salty taste on his artificial tongue.
Is his mouth open? It doesn't really feel open...
He feels so damn tired. Maybe sleep would be nice?
He feels a weird sensation, and with the last of his strength, he looks up. It feels so hard. Wasn't that easier?
There's something red before, something red that scratches at his processor. But it's not just red... it's black and it's... and it's...
Whatever it is, it swims closer to him. There're something holding... something..?
And then there's a strange sound, one that's ethereal and beautiful. One that's...
° .̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°
°°°
°°°°°
°°¬°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°¬°°
° ﾟº❍❍°ﾟº
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.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°° °°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°° °°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇
°̵̢̧͙̘̹͙͈̯̫̲̪͎̠̦̤̖̳̤̺̞̘̩̗͉͕̮͓͇͕̺̮͉̳̼͚̤̦͓͙̹̲̙͉̋͑̍̃̔̽̌̅̔̄̈̾́̍̃́̓̽̔́͌̆̽̆̍̐̃̂̈́̌̕̚̚͝ͅ ﾟ̶̧̡̯̯̲͔̙̻̓̐̅̂̐͒͊͋̈́̑̓̽̀̽̈́́̃͂͆̎͘º̸̧̡̧̢̧͓͉͔̫͖̬̥̪̬̺͚̮̹̩͇̦̤̺̮̫͔͔̺͓̤̮͇̼̠̟͈̺̘̼̞͕͙͇̄͛͊̈́͑̈͒̐̕̚͘̕͜ͅ❍̷̨̨̢̢̢͉̫̺͚̫̪̜̯̖͇̠͔͙̦̯͓̲͎̹̝̲͚̩̬̭̺̳̙̬̠̰͓̣̬̥͎̥͔̩̇̑̊̉̈́͌̀͋͐̈̊͛̇͂̽̎̿̍̂̎̂̈̈́̈́̃̅̓͑̂̎̊͊͗̑̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠｡̴̧̛̪̹͚͕̯̬̣̲̤̭̩̗͕̈́̌͂̆͆̊̂͐͌̈̓̐̋̑̈́̅̚͜͝°̷̢̢̨̛̮͙̮̪̙͙͖̣͚̭̮̺̤̫̣̬̞̮̙͕̪̻̭̥̦͍̩̩̼̺̲̥̲̒̋̎̓̾̃̑̍̈́͑͜͜͝ﾟ̵̧̧̢̨̨̛̝̻̼̠̩͎̫̜̗̤͎̹͇̝͖̤̯̫̺͚͉͔̦̮̙̜̭͍̰͖̫̠͉̺̰̦̤̝̺̦͎̈́̿͊͊̈̄́͌̌̈́͒̾́͑̊̒̄̈́̊͌̂͊̋̀̈̕͘͝ͅº̴̛̛̛̹͙̭͕̣̻̰̹̬̜̯͖̟̪̲̦̺̩̫̯͍̈̃̀̍̂̓́̈́̓̄͆͛̐̔͋̉͑͆͛̆̾͂̓̀͊͌͐͆̂̀͗̋͛̃̕̕̚̕͜͜͜͠ͅ❍̸̢̡̛̛̙̹̪̣̫̼͎̦̞̲͖̣̲͖̼̖̬̤̭̳͔̠̠̖̱̫̦̳͔̝̱̪̖͔̓͆̒̇͋̅͐̉͆̄̓̋̓͊͂̈́͛͗͛̄̐̑̍̊̋̌͒̀̈́̇̊̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝｡̴̡̛̛̛̛̻͇͍͔͈̰̩̬̳̽̈̅̀̑̓͗͐͛̎̆͋̒̋̈́͌͊͗̓͑͂͗̆́̂͌́̈́͑̎̊̾́̽̍̐̕̚͠͝͝͝°̶̧̨̗̫̲̞̹̬̘̳̦̜̤̠̬̠̝̟̝̑̋̈́͛͑͐̓́͑̾̀͗͒̈̔͆̍̐͒͗̇̃̏̇̽̇͆̆̌̔̇͛̈́̔́͆̆̿̀̔́̕̚̚̕ͅﾟ̶͇̪̦̩̜͚̺̗̻̖̜̺͖̥̳͛̇͛͜º̸̛̛̛̟̦̤̘̗͎͇̗̝̗͈̜̫̹͔͇͚̟̟̟̻̲̭͉̱̭̱̜̥͖͇̼̘͇̰͛̈́̅̑̎̐̔̆̂́̑̓̀̿͗̀̂̾̐͊̽̍̉̃́́̿͊͆́̃̈́̆̊̊͊̏̐͐͘̚̚̕̕͜͠ͅ❍̸̧̜̪̬̱̤̭̱̖̈́̀̑̎́̓͆̇̂̐̍̏̍̐̀̿̌͌̀̔̇͌͂̈́̋́̀͋͌̈́̑͊̄̚̚͜͝͠°̸̬͚̻̗̹̩͓͉͕̙̠̣͉͎̻̟̱̪͔̮͚͉̥͘͜͜͜ﾟ̷̳̠̗̙͙̝̬͔̼͗͌͋͐̈̉͊͝͝ͅº̴̡̡̨̢̧̮̖̪̻̭̝̞͖͖͇̺̮̳̱̹̻̭̺͓̳̪͈̬̟̘̤̺͕̭͎͎͍̱͗͜͝❍̵͎͕̱̯̪̈̔͗̓͛̐͗́͒̐́̊͑̍̾̀͂͆͗͆͊͋͗̀̏͐̿͐̍͊͂͋̈́̕͝͝｡̴̡̢̡̧̗̫̩̥̫͇̝̯̻̫̮̯̗̻̼̞͇̦͇̬̮̦̖̪̲̙̺͖͙̩̗̙̳̺̳͔̺̱̠̝̖͇̰̀̂́͆͑̏̃̔̈̄́͋͋ͅ°̵̡̡̢̢̜̮̰͖̪̰͙̯͕̬̞̜̞̗͖̦͕̟̠̙̝̟̲̹̻̬̻̼͍̙̥̪͚͖̟̹̾͌̓̽͂̃̈́̓̓̑̿͛̄̂͂̈͆͆̎̋̅̄̃̈̐́͐͑͌́͋̚̚̕̕ͅͅﾟ̴̡̧̨̢̭͇͎̮̳̦̞̤͈͇͚̺̫̺̻͍͕͓̣͓͙̟̦̦̤̲͖͓̽̀̓̃̆̎͌͐̂̈͒́̾̓̈́͂͊̋̐̂͒̓͒̂͛͗̎̃͆͋̊̓͘̚͜͜͠ͅº̵̗̺̞̬͈̭̯̣̗̣̥͇͇̲̙̈́̀̽͛̊͂́́̚͝͠❍̴̡̢̛̙̺̖͎͍͖̞̪͍̹̰͍̺̙͎͈̭̭̖̼̥͕̣̰̬̩̹̩̮̱̻͍̥̦͂̃̈́͊̉̄͋̇̋͐̌̓́̀̓̈́̂͗̑̃̄̉̓̏͛̆̽͌͆̽͐͑͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝｡̴̨̡̧̢̨̛̥̗̝̜̮̝͇̜̣͈̹̭͓͍̟̭̖̻̰̙̭̫̰͉̝̬͇͚̪͔̙̈̆̒̽̃̑̄͛͌͑̒͛̒̉̒̊̐̂͆̔̿̑̆̌͊̌̎̊̆͆͐̽̓̚̚̚͜͜͠ͅ°̷̢̡̛͍̯̖͇͚̪̺̪̣̞̱̲̟̪̤̪̯͍̬̲̖̖̱̲̖̲̲̗̫̪̱̭̗̹͙̓̌̀̋̓͂͂̎̉͂̇̑͛͆͆͛̇͐̑̈́̈́͘ﾟ̷̢̧̥͖̦̳͚̙̰̠̲̭̫̬͍̘̟͚̩̩̳̫̥̘̖̩̰̭̰̟̩̞̬̮̘̱̩̠̗̗̻̣̥͈̤̻̃͗̉̈́̊̂̿͆̄̆͑̿͂̄̚ͅº̷̡̔͑̂̅̐̑̂̏̆̈́͆͌̿̂̌͂͑̍̀͌̃̎́̒́̊͛̚̚͠͝͝͝͝❍̷̝̺̱̭̝̖̟̬̣̣͍͓̞̳̻̻̹͉͎͇͇͎͕̫͉͇̺̈̄̈̿͊̓̏̃͜ͅ｡̸̨̢̛̛̛̪̫̞̦̘̦̬̲̳͍̹͕̤̝̲̃͐̅̾̿̇̊́̍̈́̅̂̑̔̊͒̅̆́̈̐͑̍̅̊̐͆̈́̾̈́̑̏͌̈̿̽̚̚͘͘͘̚͜͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ
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°°°° .̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°°°°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°°°°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇ °°°°
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.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕
°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕
°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕°̴̧̢̢̢̧͎̖̭̣̟̥̰͍̰͙̗̝̗̬̞̟̺̙̹͎̪͍̪̯͔̳̙͓͍̪̜̱̪̦̙͔͇̝̥̯̄͂͆̽̒͂̇̈̐̌̓̿̾̍̑̄͒̇̄̄̄̐͑̌̇͊̏̂̇̇̈́͒̔͘͘̕̚̕̕
o ̴͂̎̈́ ̋ ̏̈́͐̍ ̦ ̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈ ̦ ̮͕͚ ̣ ̡͚̝̝ ̣ ̡̖̹ ̧ ͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍o̴̡̡̧̦̤͓͙̹̤͎̳̪͈̦̮͕͚̣͚̝̝̣̖̹͍̯̱̰͔̮͉͕̖͈͎̹̱̠͂̎̈́̋̏̈́͐̍v
Į̴̛̛̯̼̩̥̺̘̟͓͎̲̲̬̯̟̭͚̪̖͉͔̯̠͍̤͚̥̗͚͖̯̹̪͕̪̬͎̩͕̇̒̈͊̀͛̄̂̐̓͐̌̏̽̈́̏̄̂̃̿͂̓̂͛͗́̃̂͊̀̋̈́̎͂͌͊͒̈́͛̾̑̕̕͜͝͝ͅ ̸̨̬̹͉͖͎̞̓̐̔̈̔̑͆̇̏̈́̀̎́̅̅̎̈́͒͐͐͌͐̐̆̉͘͠g̴̢̮͕͓̰͒͋͒͗̅͒̉̉͐́̅̉̏́̂̈́̃̽̿̋̄͊̕͠͝í̶̢̛̤̳͈̦͎̦̞̫̦͙̭͉͚̟̺̝͔̻͎̬͕̘̯̦̺͉͋͂̋̎́̂́̀́̏̆͋̌̉̀͂̐̎̀̿̒̋̓̇̈́̋̊͊̆̽̅̄̑̋͘͘̚͝͝͝͝ͅv̵̖̙̥̖̼̳͖̞̽̈́͐̈́̊̽͒̓̽́̋̀̇̚e̷̢̢̧̧̡̧̛̥̩̯̙̣͍͕̘̳̩͇̜͇̠̙̣͔̬͖͕̤̝̣̟̺̍̈́́̑̿̽͐̇̊̚͜͜͝ͅ ̷̨̹̘͙̭̺͓̤̬͔̝͉̲̭̪͍̩̱͇̟͚̥͎̬͈̪̼̼̘̣̰̪͇̮͎̳̹̲̝̌́̏̉͌̃̔̇̍̃̿̐̂͗̀͂̾̈̀̈́̚̚̕͜͜͝ỵ̸̡̧̨̡̛̗̫͙̲͈͕̜̤̣̗̙̝̭̗͎͈͓̞̯͎͚̰̺̥̻̳̽͂́͂̀͆́̌̓̋̈́̓͑̀̃̐͌̇̓͋̌̄̾̈́̈́̈̅͑̃̐͂͊̽̑͊̕͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝ͅo̷͚̪̳̞̪̱̝̻̩̹̬̬͖̘̦̩͖̮͚̝͙͇͉̠̗̤̲͇͉̬̱͙̥̯̔̋̌͌̎̈́̀̾͌͌͆̏̊̾̈̀̀̑̒̀͊́̽̉̑̉̍͋̌̚͘͠͠͠ͅͅͅͅų̷̢͖̖̙͇̺̰̭̤̪̘̺̥̹͙̎̽̾̂̅̓͂́̌̉̂́̏̓̑̾̀͌̉̐̉̏͐̃̄͂̌̽̓́͊̂̆̎͘͘̕ ̸̢̧̨̨̨͇͉͙̭̩̻̤͓͉̠̘͓͈͚̺̹̥̺̩̜̰̮̲͚̟̣͕̻̩̮̙̲̬̭̖̻̳̳̣̮͎͈̻̰̰̑̓̓̍͌̈́̀̃̀̑͑̉͗͊͌̒͗̐͗͑̈́̽͛̃̂́̉̊̔̀̐̕̕͠h̸̡̨̡̹̗̣͔̳͍̞̼͔̖̦̪̲̙̺̭͚͙̮̜̥̻̱̭͍̠͔̰̯̜̮͇̞͙͕̘̞̯̓͛̄͊̐̒̂͌́̂̌̊́̊̄́̄́͐͜͜ả̶̛̻̟͚̙̣̔́͑̑̓̒̔̇̑̎͒̌͊̂́̉́̐͐̿̈̈́͊͘̕͠l̸̢̧̡̟̟͇̖̗̆̽́̿́͐f̷̢̧̡̧̣̳̫̥̜̖̲͚̹̦̥̦̼͕̲̭͕͔̫̯̼̹̺̒̈͋̐͒̈͗̑͊̿̀͗̽̂͒͑́̉̅̐́͆̎̋͑̈́̑̌̚̕̕͝͝͝ͅ ̸̛̟̜̬͎͖̿͌͑̇͐́̀͊̑͊̀̋͗͒̾̌̉̿̆͘͘͝͠o̵̧͖̖̞̖̙̬̻̪͙͎͚͙̰̺͈̥̗͒͒͆͆̿̀̇̊̂̍̎͊͋͐͋͊͗̈́͘̕͜͠ͅf̵̞̗͕̳̝̗̳͈̲́͑̌̈́͂̓̀̆̉͌̅̀̔͂̾̋͐̕ ̷̡̺̼̯̙̀̎͐͑̅̈̎͆͑̏̈́̈́̿́͒̊̄̍̈́͋̐̒̏͋͜͝m̴̨̧̨̛̙͇̪̥̭̥̬̯̘͍̣̫͐̐̉̑̍̋̓̿͌̉̓́̍̈́̆͗͆̅͐̕̚̕͝͠è̷̢̧̛͙̬͇̠̪̞̖̦̠̞̞̦͎͈͎̝͖̲̟̱͕̬͕̱̹̺͉̟̥̠̹̄̄͗̏͗̈́̃͗͊̏͐͗̿̿́͆̏̋̀̈́͌̒̎͊̍̔̒̇̓͘͘̚̚͜͝͝͝.̵̡̡̡̧̛̛̭͍͍͉̘̭͔̙̙̲̣̊͆͛̓̈͊͆̌̌̂̅͗̊̒̒͛͛̂́̍͛́̎̉̽͂̂͒̕͝͝͝ ̵̡̡͚̺͓͉͔̘̤͉̞̳͚͈̜̠͓̬̦͎͔̱̺͙̯͔͍̝̙̠̬̻̰̓̈́̋̓̿́̈́̈́̅̇̑͗̑͑̅̑̌̇̍̋͊̀́̓̒̀͆̒̿͘͠Ç̷̢̲̖̮̪̹̣̞͇͓̭̲̹͇̳͔̻̬̼̗̭̮̟̺̟̜̳̠̠̗͇͈̊͐́̔̑͊̽͒͜ͅh̸̛̛̜̟̣̱̤̦̥̬̲̆̄̂̈́̊̏̓͑̔͆̑̔͆̀́͑͛̏̌̾̄͊̉́͋͒͑͗͛͆͘͘͘͜͝͝é̵̢̛͍̘̪͑͑̊͗̊̋̿̈͐͛͒́̈́̾̑͊̂͗̉̂͊͛̓̾̇͌͋̈́̀̅̉̓̈́͂̆͒̔̿̚͘̕̚͠͝͝͝͝͝r̵̢̧̧̛̪͍̠̮̗͔̼̤̟͔͖̜̫̲͎̹͆͑̒̽͑̍̀̀̋̀͑̎̎͆̌̃̄̿̏͛̇̽́̔̈̂̔̀̉̇̒̌̊͂͑̓̇̐̋̍͆͑̓̕̚͜͝͠i̵̢̨̨̧̢̖̭̘̖͕͈͈̤̟̝̟̼͇͕̫̖̘̰̬̲̟͖̹̪̟͉̪̼̩͎̠̦̗̺̺̼̺̹͎̽̒̈̇̿̃́̇̍͜͜͜͠ͅs̷̨̘͚͔͈̉͗͆̆̍̒̀͛̕̚͠͝͝h̶̡̢̢̧̡̧̧̨̙͓̜̳̻̩̫̫̜̼̪̬̹̥̪̹͈͇̰̬͍̯͙̘̗͙̺̯͎͔̥̟̟̞̹͔̾̊̾̏̍̈͘͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͠ͅͅ ̴̡̢̹̣̯̦̯̗̺͉̹̼̰̟̈́͒̈́́̽̌̀̔͊͐̈̐͂̐̓͋ͅi̶̧̛͇͖̭̱̜̳͉͙͇̞̇̈́̐͊͐̈̄́̏̏̈́̅́̿̾̽́̀̿̀͒͂̓̈͑̊́̄̿̽̇̐̿̒̆͌̂̇͒̕̕͘̕̚͘̚͝͝ͅͅͅt̷̡̡̡̬̬̰͍̗̦̰̫̼͓͔̱̯͖̞̻̬͚̱̳̳̘͔̠͒͋͑̐̐̊͒̃́̄̀̈́́͊̀͑̌̂͆͆͌͒̀͆̈́͌͆̂̌͌̉͌̊̏́̈́̑͒͆̚͝͝͠ͅͅ
°̵̢̧͙̘̹͙͈̯̫̲̪͎̠̦̤̖̳̤̺̞̘̩̗͉͕̮͓͇͕̺̮͉̳̼͚̤̦͓͙̹̲̙͉̋͑̍̃̔̽̌̅̔̄̈̾́̍̃́̓̽̔́͌̆̽̆̍̐̃̂̈́̌̕̚̚͝ͅ ﾟ̶̧̡̯̯̲͔̙̻̓̐̅̂̐͒͊͋̈́̑̓̽̀̽̈́́̃͂͆̎͘º̸̧̡̧̢̧͓͉͔̫͖̬̥̪̬̺͚̮̹̩͇̦̤̺̮̫͔͔̺͓̤̮͇̼̠̟͈̺̘̼̞͕͙͇̄͛͊̈́͑̈͒̐̕̚͘̕͜ͅ❍̷̨̨̢̢̢͉̫̺͚̫̪̜̯̖͇̠͔͙̦̯͓̲͎̹̝̲͚̩̬̭̺̳̙̬̠̰͓̣̬̥͎̥͔̩̇̑̊̉̈́͌̀͋͐̈̊͛̇͂̽̎̿̍̂̎̂̈̈́̈́̃̅̓͑̂̎̊͊͗̑̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠｡̴̧̛̪̹͚͕̯̬̣̲̤̭̩̗͕̈́̌͂̆͆̊̂͐͌̈̓̐̋̑̈́̅̚͜͝°̷̢̢̨̛̮͙̮̪̙͙͖̣͚̭̮̺̤̫̣̬̞̮̙͕̪̻̭̥̦͍̩̩̼̺̲̥̲̒̋̎̓̾̃̑̍̈́͑͜͜͝ﾟ̵̧̧̢̨̨̛̝̻̼̠̩͎̫̜̗̤͎̹͇̝͖̤̯̫̺͚͉͔̦̮̙̜̭͍̰͖̫̠͉̺̰̦̤̝̺̦͎̈́̿͊͊̈̄́͌̌̈́͒̾́͑̊̒̄̈́̊͌̂͊̋̀̈̕͘͝ͅº̴̛̛̛̹͙̭͕̣̻̰̹̬̜̯͖̟̪̲̦̺̩̫̯͍̈̃̀̍̂̓́̈́̓̄͆͛̐̔͋̉͑͆͛̆̾͂̓̀͊͌͐͆̂̀͗̋͛̃̕̕̚̕͜͜͜͠ͅ❍̸̢̡̛̛̙̹̪̣̫̼͎̦̞̲͖̣̲͖̼̖̬̤̭̳͔̠̠̖̱̫̦̳͔̝̱̪̖͔̓͆̒̇͋̅͐̉͆̄̓̋̓͊͂̈́͛͗͛̄̐̑̍̊̋̌͒̀̈́̇̊̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝｡̴̡̛̛̛̛̻͇͍͔͈̰̩̬̳̽̈̅̀̑̓͗͐͛̎̆͋̒̋̈́͌͊͗̓͑͂͗̆́̂͌́̈́͑̎̊̾́̽̍̐̕̚͠͝͝͝°̶̧̨̗̫̲̞̹̬̘̳̦̜̤̠̬̠̝̟̝̑̋̈́͛͑͐̓́͑̾̀͗͒̈̔͆̍̐͒͗̇̃̏̇̽̇͆̆̌̔̇͛̈́̔́͆̆̿̀̔́̕̚̚̕ͅﾟ̶͇̪̦̩̜͚̺̗̻̖̜̺͖̥̳͛̇͛͜º̸̛̛̛̟̦̤̘̗͎͇̗̝̗͈̜̫̹͔͇͚̟̟̟̻̲̭͉̱̭̱̜̥͖͇̼̘͇̰͛̈́̅̑̎̐̔̆̂́̑̓̀̿͗̀̂̾̐͊̽̍̉̃́́̿͊͆́̃̈́̆̊̊͊̏̐͐͘̚̚̕̕͜͠ͅ❍̸̧̜̪̬̱̤̭̱̖̈́̀̑̎́̓͆̇̂̐̍̏̍̐̀̿̌͌̀̔̇͌͂̈́̋́̀͋͌̈́̑͊̄̚̚͜͝͠°̸̬͚̻̗̹̩͓͉͕̙̠̣͉͎̻̟̱̪͔̮͚͉̥͘͜͜͜ﾟ̷̳̠̗̙͙̝̬͔̼͗͌͋͐̈̉͊͝͝ͅº̴̡̡̨̢̧̮̖̪̻̭̝̞͖͖͇̺̮̳̱̹̻̭̺͓̳̪͈̬̟̘̤̺͕̭͎͎͍̱͗͜͝❍̵͎͕̱̯̪̈̔͗̓͛̐͗́͒̐́̊͑̍̾̀͂͆͗͆͊͋͗̀̏͐̿͐̍͊͂͋̈́̕͝͝｡̴̡̢̡̧̗̫̩̥̫͇̝̯̻̫̮̯̗̻̼̞͇̦͇̬̮̦̖̪̲̙̺͖͙̩̗̙̳̺̳͔̺̱̠̝̖͇̰̀̂́͆͑̏̃̔̈̄́͋͋ͅ°̵̡̡̢̢̜̮̰͖̪̰͙̯͕̬̞̜̞̗͖̦͕̟̠̙̝̟̲̹̻̬̻̼͍̙̥̪͚͖̟̹̾͌̓̽͂̃̈́̓̓̑̿͛̄̂͂̈͆͆̎̋̅̄̃̈̐́͐͑͌́͋̚̚̕̕ͅͅﾟ̴̡̧̨̢̭͇͎̮̳̦̞̤͈͇͚̺̫̺̻͍͕͓̣͓͙̟̦̦̤̲͖͓̽̀̓̃̆̎͌͐̂̈͒́̾̓̈́͂͊̋̐̂͒̓͒̂͛͗̎̃͆͋̊̓͘̚͜͜͠ͅº̵̗̺̞̬͈̭̯̣̗̣̥͇͇̲̙̈́̀̽͛̊͂́́̚͝͠❍̴̡̢̛̙̺̖͎͍͖̞̪͍̹̰͍̺̙͎͈̭̭̖̼̥͕̣̰̬̩̹̩̮̱̻͍̥̦͂̃̈́͊̉̄͋̇̋͐̌̓́̀̓̈́̂͗̑̃̄̉̓̏͛̆̽͌͆̽͐͑͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝｡̴̨̡̧̢̨̛̥̗̝̜̮̝͇̜̣͈̹̭͓͍̟̭̖̻̰̙̭̫̰͉̝̬͇͚̪͔̙̈̆̒̽̃̑̄͛͌͑̒͛̒̉̒̊̐̂͆̔̿̑̆̌͊̌̎̊̆͆͐̽̓̚̚̚͜͜͠ͅ°̷̢̡̛͍̯̖͇͚̪̺̪̣̞̱̲̟̪̤̪̯͍̬̲̖̖̱̲̖̲̲̗̫̪̱̭̗̹͙̓̌̀̋̓͂͂̎̉͂̇̑͛͆͆͛̇͐̑̈́̈́͘ﾟ̷̢̧̥͖̦̳͚̙̰̠̲̭̫̬͍̘̟͚̩̩̳̫̥̘̖̩̰̭̰̟̩̞̬̮̘̱̩̠̗̗̻̣̥͈̤̻̃͗̉̈́̊̂̿͆̄̆͑̿͂̄̚ͅº̷̡̔͑̂̅̐̑̂̏̆̈́͆͌̿̂̌͂͑̍̀͌̃̎́̒́̊͛̚̚͠͝͝͝͝❍̷̝̺̱̭̝̖̟̬̣̣͍͓̞̳̻̻̹͉͎͇͇͎͕̫͉͇̺̈̄̈̿͊̓̏̃͜ͅ｡̸̨̢̛̛̛̪̫̞̦̘̦̬̲̳͍̹͕̤̝̲̃͐̅̾̿̇̊́̍̈́̅̂̑̔̊͒̅̆́̈̐͑̍̅̊̐͆̈́̾̈́̑̏͌̈̿̽̚̚͘͘͘̚͜͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ
°̵̢̧͙̘̹͙͈̯̫̲̪͎̠̦̤̖̳̤̺̞̘̩̗͉͕̮͓͇͕̺̮͉̳̼͚̤̦͓͙̹̲̙͉̋͑̍̃̔̽̌̅̔̄̈̾́̍̃́̓̽̔́͌̆̽̆̍̐̃̂̈́̌̕̚̚͝ͅ ﾟ̶̧̡̯̯̲͔̙̻̓̐̅̂̐͒͊͋̈́̑̓̽̀̽̈́́̃͂͆̎͘º̸̧̡̧̢̧͓͉͔̫͖̬̥̪̬̺͚̮̹̩͇̦̤̺̮̫͔͔̺͓̤̮͇̼̠̟͈̺̘̼̞͕͙͇̄͛͊̈́͑̈͒̐̕̚͘̕͜ͅ❍̷̨̨̢̢̢͉̫̺͚̫̪̜̯̖͇̠͔͙̦̯͓̲͎̹̝̲͚̩̬̭̺̳̙̬̠̰͓̣̬̥͎̥͔̩̇̑̊̉̈́͌̀͋͐̈̊͛̇͂̽̎̿̍̂̎̂̈̈́̈́̃̅̓͑̂̎̊͊͗̑̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠｡̴̧̛̪̹͚͕̯̬̣̲̤̭̩̗͕̈́̌͂̆͆̊̂͐͌̈̓̐̋̑̈́̅̚͜͝°̷̢̢̨̛̮͙̮̪̙͙͖̣͚̭̮̺̤̫̣̬̞̮̙͕̪̻̭̥̦͍̩̩̼̺̲̥̲̒̋̎̓̾̃̑̍̈́͑͜͜͝ﾟ̵̧̧̢̨̨̛̝̻̼̠̩͎̫̜̗̤͎̹͇̝͖̤̯̫̺͚͉͔̦̮̙̜̭͍̰͖̫̠͉̺̰̦̤̝̺̦͎̈́̿͊͊̈̄́͌̌̈́͒̾́͑̊̒̄̈́̊͌̂͊̋̀̈̕͘͝ͅº̴̛̛̛̹͙̭͕̣̻̰̹̬̜̯͖̟̪̲̦̺̩̫̯͍̈̃̀̍̂̓́̈́̓̄͆͛̐̔͋̉͑͆͛̆̾͂̓̀͊͌͐͆̂̀͗̋͛̃̕̕̚̕͜͜͜͠ͅ❍̸̢̡̛̛̙̹̪̣̫̼͎̦̞̲͖̣̲͖̼̖̬̤̭̳͔̠̠̖̱̫̦̳͔̝̱̪̖͔̓͆̒̇͋̅͐̉͆̄̓̋̓͊͂̈́͛͗͛̄̐̑̍̊̋̌͒̀̈́̇̊̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝｡̴̡̛̛̛̛̻͇͍͔͈̰̩̬̳̽̈̅̀̑̓͗͐͛̎̆͋̒̋̈́͌͊͗̓͑͂͗̆́̂͌́̈́͑̎̊̾́̽̍̐̕̚͠͝͝͝°̶̧̨̗̫̲̞̹̬̘̳̦̜̤̠̬̠̝̟̝̑̋̈́͛͑͐̓́͑̾̀͗͒̈̔͆̍̐͒͗̇̃̏̇̽̇͆̆̌̔̇͛̈́̔́͆̆̿̀̔́̕̚̚̕ͅﾟ̶͇̪̦̩̜͚̺̗̻̖̜̺͖̥̳͛̇͛͜º̸̛̛̛̟̦̤̘̗͎͇̗̝̗͈̜̫̹͔͇͚̟̟̟̻̲̭͉̱̭̱̜̥͖͇̼̘͇̰͛̈́̅̑̎̐̔̆̂́̑̓̀̿͗̀̂̾̐͊̽̍̉̃́́̿͊͆́̃̈́̆̊̊͊̏̐͐͘̚̚̕̕͜͠ͅ❍̸̧̜̪̬̱̤̭̱̖̈́̀̑̎́̓͆̇̂̐̍̏̍̐̀̿̌͌̀̔̇͌͂̈́̋́̀͋͌̈́̑͊̄̚̚͜͝͠°̸̬͚̻̗̹̩͓͉͕̙̠̣͉͎̻̟̱̪͔̮͚͉̥͘͜͜͜ﾟ̷̳̠̗̙͙̝̬͔̼͗͌͋͐̈̉͊͝͝ͅº̴̡̡̨̢̧̮̖̪̻̭̝̞͖͖͇̺̮̳̱̹̻̭̺͓̳̪͈̬̟̘̤̺͕̭͎͎͍̱͗͜͝❍̵͎͕̱̯̪̈̔͗̓͛̐͗́͒̐́̊͑̍̾̀͂͆͗͆͊͋͗̀̏͐̿͐̍͊͂͋̈́̕͝͝｡̴̡̢̡̧̗̫̩̥̫͇̝̯̻̫̮̯̗̻̼̞͇̦͇̬̮̦̖̪̲̙̺͖͙̩̗̙̳̺̳͔̺̱̠̝̖͇̰̀̂́͆͑̏̃̔̈̄́͋͋ͅ°̵̡̡̢̢̜̮̰͖̪̰͙̯͕̬̞̜̞̗͖̦͕̟̠̙̝̟̲̹̻̬̻̼͍̙̥̪͚͖̟̹̾͌̓̽͂̃̈́̓̓̑̿͛̄̂͂̈͆͆̎̋̅̄̃̈̐́͐͑͌́͋̚̚̕̕ͅͅﾟ̴̡̧̨̢̭͇͎̮̳̦̞̤͈͇͚̺̫̺̻͍͕͓̣͓͙̟̦̦̤̲͖͓̽̀̓̃̆̎͌͐̂̈͒́̾̓̈́͂͊̋̐̂͒̓͒̂͛͗̎̃͆͋̊̓͘̚͜͜͠ͅº̵̗̺̞̬͈̭̯̣̗̣̥͇͇̲̙̈́̀̽͛̊͂́́̚͝͠❍̴̡̢̛̙̺̖͎͍͖̞̪͍̹̰͍̺̙͎͈̭̭̖̼̥͕̣̰̬̩̹̩̮̱̻͍̥̦͂̃̈́͊̉̄͋̇̋͐̌̓́̀̓̈́̂͗̑̃̄̉̓̏͛̆̽͌͆̽͐͑͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝｡̴̨̡̧̢̨̛̥̗̝̜̮̝͇̜̣͈̹̭͓͍̟̭̖̻̰̙̭̫̰͉̝̬͇͚̪͔̙̈̆̒̽̃̑̄͛͌͑̒͛̒̉̒̊̐̂͆̔̿̑̆̌͊̌̎̊̆͆͐̽̓̚̚̚͜͜͠ͅ°̷̢̡̛͍̯̖͇͚̪̺̪̣̞̱̲̟̪̤̪̯͍̬̲̖̖̱̲̖̲̲̗̫̪̱̭̗̹͙̓̌̀̋̓͂͂̎̉͂̇̑͛͆͆͛̇͐̑̈́̈́͘ﾟ̷̢̧̥͖̦̳͚̙̰̠̲̭̫̬͍̘̟͚̩̩̳̫̥̘̖̩̰̭̰̟̩̞̬̮̘̱̩̠̗̗̻̣̥͈̤̻̃͗̉̈́̊̂̿͆̄̆͑̿͂̄̚ͅº̷̡̔͑̂̅̐̑̂̏̆̈́͆͌̿̂̌͂͑̍̀͌̃̎́̒́̊͛̚̚͠͝͝͝͝❍̷̝̺̱̭̝̖̟̬̣̣͍͓̞̳̻̻̹͉͎͇͇͎͕̫͉͇̺̈̄̈̿͊̓̏̃͜ͅ｡̸̨̢̛̛̛̪̫̞̦̘̦̬̲̳͍̹͕̤̝̲̃͐̅̾̿̇̊́̍̈́̅̂̑̔̊͒̅̆́̈̐͑̍̅̊̐͆̈́̾̈́̑̏͌̈̿̽̚̚͘͘͘̚͜͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ
°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°° °°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°° °°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇
°̵̢̧͙̘̹͙͈̯̫̲̪͎̠̦̤̖̳̤̺̞̘̩̗͉͕̮͓͇͕̺̮͉̳̼͚̤̦͓͙̹̲̙͉̋͑̍̃̔̽̌̅̔̄̈̾́̍̃́̓̽̔́͌̆̽̆̍̐̃̂̈́̌̕̚̚͝ͅ ﾟ̶̧̡̯̯̲͔̙̻̓̐̅̂̐͒͊͋̈́̑̓̽̀̽̈́́̃͂͆̎͘º̸̧̡̧̢̧͓͉͔̫͖̬̥̪̬̺͚̮̹̩͇̦̤̺̮̫͔͔̺͓̤̮͇̼̠̟͈̺̘̼̞͕͙͇̄͛͊̈́͑̈͒̐̕̚͘̕͜ͅ❍̷̨̨̢̢̢͉̫̺͚̫̪̜̯̖͇̠͔͙̦̯͓̲͎̹̝̲͚̩̬̭̺̳̙̬̠̰͓̣̬̥͎̥͔̩̇̑̊̉̈́͌̀͋͐̈̊͛̇͂̽̎̿̍̂̎̂̈̈́̈́̃̅̓͑̂̎̊͊͗̑̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠｡̴̧̛̪̹͚͕̯̬̣̲̤̭̩̗͕̈́̌͂̆͆̊̂͐͌̈̓̐̋̑̈́̅̚͜͝°̷̢̢̨̛̮͙̮̪̙͙͖̣͚̭̮̺̤̫̣̬̞̮̙͕̪̻̭̥̦͍̩̩̼̺̲̥̲̒̋̎̓̾̃̑̍̈́͑͜͜͝ﾟ̵̧̧̢̨̨̛̝̻̼̠̩͎̫̜̗̤͎̹͇̝͖̤̯̫̺͚͉͔̦̮̙̜̭͍̰͖̫̠͉̺̰̦̤̝̺̦͎̈́̿͊͊̈̄́͌̌̈́͒̾́͑̊̒̄̈́̊͌̂͊̋̀̈̕͘͝ͅº̴̛̛̛̹͙̭͕̣̻̰̹̬̜̯͖̟̪̲̦̺̩̫̯͍̈̃̀̍̂̓́̈́̓̄͆͛̐̔͋̉͑͆͛̆̾͂̓̀͊͌͐͆̂̀͗̋͛̃̕̕̚̕͜͜͜͠ͅ❍̸̢̡̛̛̙̹̪̣̫̼͎̦̞̲͖̣̲͖̼̖̬̤̭̳͔̠̠̖̱̫̦̳͔̝̱̪̖͔̓͆̒̇͋̅͐̉͆̄̓̋̓͊͂̈́͛͗͛̄̐̑̍̊̋̌͒̀̈́̇̊̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝｡̴̡̛̛̛̛̻͇͍͔͈̰̩̬̳̽̈̅̀̑̓͗͐͛̎̆͋̒̋̈́͌͊͗̓͑͂͗̆́̂͌́̈́͑̎̊̾́̽̍̐̕̚͠͝͝͝°̶̧̨̗̫̲̞̹̬̘̳̦̜̤̠̬̠̝̟̝̑̋̈́͛͑͐̓́͑̾̀͗͒̈̔͆̍̐͒͗̇̃̏̇̽̇͆̆̌̔̇͛̈́̔́͆̆̿̀̔́̕̚̚̕ͅﾟ̶͇̪̦̩̜͚̺̗̻̖̜̺͖̥̳͛̇͛͜º̸̛̛̛̟̦̤̘̗͎͇̗̝̗͈̜̫̹͔͇͚̟̟̟̻̲̭͉̱̭̱̜̥͖͇̼̘͇̰͛̈́̅̑̎̐̔̆̂́̑̓̀̿͗̀̂̾̐͊̽̍̉̃́́̿͊͆́̃̈́̆̊̊͊̏̐͐͘̚̚̕̕͜͠ͅ❍̸̧̜̪̬̱̤̭̱̖̈́̀̑̎́̓͆̇̂̐̍̏̍̐̀̿̌͌̀̔̇͌͂̈́̋́̀͋͌̈́̑͊̄̚̚͜͝͠°̸̬͚̻̗̹̩͓͉͕̙̠̣͉͎̻̟̱̪͔̮͚͉̥͘͜͜͜ﾟ̷̳̠̗̙͙̝̬͔̼͗͌͋͐̈̉͊͝͝ͅº̴̡̡̨̢̧̮̖̪̻̭̝̞͖͖͇̺̮̳̱̹̻̭̺͓̳̪͈̬̟̘̤̺͕̭͎͎͍̱͗͜͝❍̵͎͕̱̯̪̈̔͗̓͛̐͗́͒̐́̊͑̍̾̀͂͆͗͆͊͋͗̀̏͐̿͐̍͊͂͋̈́̕͝͝｡̴̡̢̡̧̗̫̩̥̫͇̝̯̻̫̮̯̗̻̼̞͇̦͇̬̮̦̖̪̲̙̺͖͙̩̗̙̳̺̳͔̺̱̠̝̖͇̰̀̂́͆͑̏̃̔̈̄́͋͋ͅ°̵̡̡̢̢̜̮̰͖̪̰͙̯͕̬̞̜̞̗͖̦͕̟̠̙̝̟̲̹̻̬̻̼͍̙̥̪͚͖̟̹̾͌̓̽͂̃̈́̓̓̑̿͛̄̂͂̈͆͆̎̋̅̄̃̈̐́͐͑͌́͋̚̚̕̕ͅͅﾟ̴̡̧̨̢̭͇͎̮̳̦̞̤͈͇͚̺̫̺̻͍͕͓̣͓͙̟̦̦̤̲͖͓̽̀̓̃̆̎͌͐̂̈͒́̾̓̈́͂͊̋̐̂͒̓͒̂͛͗̎̃͆͋̊̓͘̚͜͜͠ͅº̵̗̺̞̬͈̭̯̣̗̣̥͇͇̲̙̈́̀̽͛̊͂́́̚͝͠❍̴̡̢̛̙̺̖͎͍͖̞̪͍̹̰͍̺̙͎͈̭̭̖̼̥͕̣̰̬̩̹̩̮̱̻͍̥̦͂̃̈́͊̉̄͋̇̋͐̌̓́̀̓̈́̂͗̑̃̄̉̓̏͛̆̽͌͆̽͐͑͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝｡̴̨̡̧̢̨̛̥̗̝̜̮̝͇̜̣͈̹̭͓͍̟̭̖̻̰̙̭̫̰͉̝̬͇͚̪͔̙̈̆̒̽̃̑̄͛͌͑̒͛̒̉̒̊̐̂͆̔̿̑̆̌͊̌̎̊̆͆͐̽̓̚̚̚͜͜͠ͅ°̷̢̡̛͍̯̖͇͚̪̺̪̣̞̱̲̟̪̤̪̯͍̬̲̖̖̱̲̖̲̲̗̫̪̱̭̗̹͙̓̌̀̋̓͂͂̎̉͂̇̑͛͆͆͛̇͐̑̈́̈́͘ﾟ̷̢̧̥͖̦̳͚̙̰̠̲̭̫̬͍̘̟͚̩̩̳̫̥̘̖̩̰̭̰̟̩̞̬̮̘̱̩̠̗̗̻̣̥͈̤̻̃͗̉̈́̊̂̿͆̄̆͑̿͂̄̚ͅº̷̡̔͑̂̅̐̑̂̏̆̈́͆͌̿̂̌͂͑̍̀͌̃̎́̒́̊͛̚̚͠͝͝͝͝❍̷̝̺̱̭̝̖̟̬̣̣͍͓̞̳̻̻̹͉͎͇͇͎͕̫͉͇̺̈̄̈̿͊̓̏̃͜ͅ｡̸̨̢̛̛̛̪̫̞̦̘̦̬̲̳͍̹͕̤̝̲̃͐̅̾̿̇̊́̍̈́̅̂̑̔̊͒̅̆́̈̐͑̍̅̊̐͆̈́̾̈́̑̏͌̈̿̽̚̚͘͘͘̚͜͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ
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°°°° .̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°°°°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°°°°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇ °°°°
°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°° °°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°° °°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇
°̵̢̧͙̘̹͙͈̯̫̲̪͎̠̦̤̖̳̤̺̞̘̩̗͉͕̮͓͇͕̺̮͉̳̼͚̤̦͓͙̹̲̙͉̋͑̍̃̔̽̌̅̔̄̈̾́̍̃́̓̽̔́͌̆̽̆̍̐̃̂̈́̌̕̚̚͝ͅ ﾟ̶̧̡̯̯̲͔̙̻̓̐̅̂̐͒͊͋̈́̑̓̽̀̽̈́́̃͂͆̎͘º̸̧̡̧̢̧͓͉͔̫͖̬̥̪̬̺͚̮̹̩͇̦̤̺̮̫͔͔̺͓̤̮͇̼̠̟͈̺̘̼̞͕͙͇̄͛͊̈́͑̈͒̐̕̚͘̕͜ͅ❍̷̨̨̢̢̢͉̫̺͚̫̪̜̯̖͇̠͔͙̦̯͓̲͎̹̝̲͚̩̬̭̺̳̙̬̠̰͓̣̬̥͎̥͔̩̇̑̊̉̈́͌̀͋͐̈̊͛̇͂̽̎̿̍̂̎̂̈̈́̈́̃̅̓͑̂̎̊͊͗̑̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠｡̴̧̛̪̹͚͕̯̬̣̲̤̭̩̗͕̈́̌͂̆͆̊̂͐͌̈̓̐̋̑̈́̅̚͜͝°̷̢̢̨̛̮͙̮̪̙͙͖̣͚̭̮̺̤̫̣̬̞̮̙͕̪̻̭̥̦͍̩̩̼̺̲̥̲̒̋̎̓̾̃̑̍̈́͑͜͜͝ﾟ̵̧̧̢̨̨̛̝̻̼̠̩͎̫̜̗̤͎̹͇̝͖̤̯̫̺͚͉͔̦̮̙̜̭͍̰͖̫̠͉̺̰̦̤̝̺̦͎̈́̿͊͊̈̄́͌̌̈́͒̾́͑̊̒̄̈́̊͌̂͊̋̀̈̕͘͝ͅº̴̛̛̛̹͙̭͕̣̻̰̹̬̜̯͖̟̪̲̦̺̩̫̯͍̈̃̀̍̂̓́̈́̓̄͆͛̐̔͋̉͑͆͛̆̾͂̓̀͊͌͐͆̂̀͗̋͛̃̕̕̚̕͜͜͜͠ͅ❍̸̢̡̛̛̙̹̪̣̫̼͎̦̞̲͖̣̲͖̼̖̬̤̭̳͔̠̠̖̱̫̦̳͔̝̱̪̖͔̓͆̒̇͋̅͐̉͆̄̓̋̓͊͂̈́͛͗͛̄̐̑̍̊̋̌͒̀̈́̇̊̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝｡̴̡̛̛̛̛̻͇͍͔͈̰̩̬̳̽̈̅̀̑̓͗͐͛̎̆͋̒̋̈́͌͊͗̓͑͂͗̆́̂͌́̈́͑̎̊̾́̽̍̐̕̚͠͝͝͝°̶̧̨̗̫̲̞̹̬̘̳̦̜̤̠̬̠̝̟̝̑̋̈́͛͑͐̓́͑̾̀͗͒̈̔͆̍̐͒͗̇̃̏̇̽̇͆̆̌̔̇͛̈́̔́͆̆̿̀̔́̕̚̚̕ͅﾟ̶͇̪̦̩̜͚̺̗̻̖̜̺͖̥̳͛̇͛͜º̸̛̛̛̟̦̤̘̗͎͇̗̝̗͈̜̫̹͔͇͚̟̟̟̻̲̭͉̱̭̱̜̥͖͇̼̘͇̰͛̈́̅̑̎̐̔̆̂́̑̓̀̿͗̀̂̾̐͊̽̍̉̃́́̿͊͆́̃̈́̆̊̊͊̏̐͐͘̚̚̕̕͜͠ͅ❍̸̧̜̪̬̱̤̭̱̖̈́̀̑̎́̓͆̇̂̐̍̏̍̐̀̿̌͌̀̔̇͌͂̈́̋́̀͋͌̈́̑͊̄̚̚͜͝͠°̸̬͚̻̗̹̩͓͉͕̙̠̣͉͎̻̟̱̪͔̮͚͉̥͘͜͜͜ﾟ̷̳̠̗̙͙̝̬͔̼͗͌͋͐̈̉͊͝͝ͅº̴̡̡̨̢̧̮̖̪̻̭̝̞͖͖͇̺̮̳̱̹̻̭̺͓̳̪͈̬̟̘̤̺͕̭͎͎͍̱͗͜͝❍̵͎͕̱̯̪̈̔͗̓͛̐͗́͒̐́̊͑̍̾̀͂͆͗͆͊͋͗̀̏͐̿͐̍͊͂͋̈́̕͝͝｡̴̡̢̡̧̗̫̩̥̫͇̝̯̻̫̮̯̗̻̼̞͇̦͇̬̮̦̖̪̲̙̺͖͙̩̗̙̳̺̳͔̺̱̠̝̖͇̰̀̂́͆͑̏̃̔̈̄́͋͋ͅ°̵̡̡̢̢̜̮̰͖̪̰͙̯͕̬̞̜̞̗͖̦͕̟̠̙̝̟̲̹̻̬̻̼͍̙̥̪͚͖̟̹̾͌̓̽͂̃̈́̓̓̑̿͛̄̂͂̈͆͆̎̋̅̄̃̈̐́͐͑͌́͋̚̚̕̕ͅͅﾟ̴̡̧̨̢̭͇͎̮̳̦̞̤͈͇͚̺̫̺̻͍͕͓̣͓͙̟̦̦̤̲͖͓̽̀̓̃̆̎͌͐̂̈͒́̾̓̈́͂͊̋̐̂͒̓͒̂͛͗̎̃͆͋̊̓͘̚͜͜͠ͅº̵̗̺̞̬͈̭̯̣̗̣̥͇͇̲̙̈́̀̽͛̊͂́́̚͝͠❍̴̡̢̛̙̺̖͎͍͖̞̪͍̹̰͍̺̙͎͈̭̭̖̼̥͕̣̰̬̩̹̩̮̱̻͍̥̦͂̃̈́͊̉̄͋̇̋͐̌̓́̀̓̈́̂͗̑̃̄̉̓̏͛̆̽͌͆̽͐͑͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝｡̴̨̡̧̢̨̛̥̗̝̜̮̝͇̜̣͈̹̭͓͍̟̭̖̻̰̙̭̫̰͉̝̬͇͚̪͔̙̈̆̒̽̃̑̄͛͌͑̒͛̒̉̒̊̐̂͆̔̿̑̆̌͊̌̎̊̆͆͐̽̓̚̚̚͜͜͠ͅ°̷̢̡̛͍̯̖͇͚̪̺̪̣̞̱̲̟̪̤̪̯͍̬̲̖̖̱̲̖̲̲̗̫̪̱̭̗̹͙̓̌̀̋̓͂͂̎̉͂̇̑͛͆͆͛̇͐̑̈́̈́͘ﾟ̷̢̧̥͖̦̳͚̙̰̠̲̭̫̬͍̘̟͚̩̩̳̫̥̘̖̩̰̭̰̟̩̞̬̮̘̱̩̠̗̗̻̣̥͈̤̻̃͗̉̈́̊̂̿͆̄̆͑̿͂̄̚ͅº̷̡̔͑̂̅̐̑̂̏̆̈́͆͌̿̂̌͂͑̍̀͌̃̎́̒́̊͛̚̚͠͝͝͝͝❍̷̝̺̱̭̝̖̟̬̣̣͍͓̞̳̻̻̹͉͎͇͇͎͕̫͉͇̺̈̄̈̿͊̓̏̃͜ͅ｡̸̨̢̛̛̛̪̫̞̦̘̦̬̲̳͍̹͕̤̝̲̃͐̅̾̿̇̊́̍̈́̅̂̑̔̊͒̅̆́̈̐͑̍̅̊̐͆̈́̾̈́̑̏͌̈̿̽̚̚͘͘͘̚͜͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ
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°°°° .̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°°°°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇°°°°°°°°.̷̢̧͎̗͙̘̩̘̙̳͙͉͎̗͙̼̬͖͓͓͖̻̫͙̖̤̘̠̍́͛̄̅̽̄̇ °°°°
o ̸̈́͠͠ ́ ̏ ̉ ̘̞̝̭̰̙̝̙̿ ̧ ̫͎͕̖̗͙̻ ̣ ̢͖̰ ̦ ̡͇ o ̸̐͠ ̊ ͒͆ ̃ ̐ ̆ ̹̫ o ̴͙̹̟̪͇̮̩̕ ̦ ̝ ̦ͅ ̜͉ ̣ ̥̭͇̰̮ ̧ ̡̖͙͜ ̧ ͍ o ̶ ̃ ̊ ̎̿̿̽͝͝ ̃ ̄ ̐͝ ̄ ͛̈́̑͂ ̌ ͝ ̊ ͒̑͑͑͆̽̓̓̏̀̓͌͝ ̄ ̎̍̈́ ̆ ̑̓͘ ̉ ̢̱ ̨ ̥ ͅ ̢̗̰̬ o ̴ ̀ ̓̿̅͐͛͘ ̄̄ ̢͎͕͎̭̝̻̖̯͚̹͖͈͔̩̝̗͙̪͖̳̘̱̹̻ o ̶ ̾̾̍͂͝ ̂̈ ̀̑̅̔͗̅̾̚ ̉ ̑ ̃ ͌͌̾̅ ͅ ͓ o ̶ ͗̓̅͆ ́ ͒͂̐̑͌̕͝͝ ́ ͌ ̇ ͊̑ ̇ ͑ ̒ ͓̱̺ ͅ ̮̭ ̦ ̺͈͉̻̳̞͙̗ ̧ ̢ ̧ ̢̳̱͚͖̟͜͜ ̦ ̢̥̬̰̻̫̯̩̫̟̞̰̙̲ o ̸ ̉́ ̿̎ ̒ ̅͊̽̓͗͑ ̈ ̜̯̻͉͜͝ ̣ ̮̠̰̳̘ ̣ ̢̢͎͈̳͙͉͎ ̨ ̢͔ o ̸͌ ̉ ̅ ̂ ̿̽͂̔̕ ̋ ͗ ̉ ͗͂̈́ ̂ ̃ ̒ ͂͆̏͝ ̨ ͇̟̲̫̗̬ ̨ ̢͔̮̻͖̤̲ ̦ ̡͕͚̘ ͅ ̪̩ ̧ ͈̰̠̟ ̣ ̢̪̜͕̜͓̘͙ ̨ ͎̲͕̬̰͜ o ̵̈ ̈́ ̆ ̈́̅ ̇ ̍̽͌͐̈́͐͝ ̌ ̓̾͑ ̆ ͋̾̎͒͆͝ ̋ ̥̗̯͚̘̜̑̎ ̣ ͕͇̠͈̱̙̤̹ ̣ ͔͓͈͓͎̬̘̯ o ̴̍ ̆̈ ͠ ́ ͆͂̎̓͌̕̚ ̉́ ̏̑ ̛ ̀͛̿ ̛ ͌ ̇ ͗͘ ̋̂̄ ͌͋ ̊ ͗̀͛̑̓͌̈́̏̐̕ ̊ ̓ ̧̄ ̢ ̧ ̥͓̤ ̦ ̮͚ ̧ ̰̻̤͓̺͚̩ ̨ ̢̹͍͉͕͜ o ̸̓ ̃ ͝ ̇ ͕̰̝̥̗͍̼͌ ̦ o ̸ ̋ ̔͠ ̉ ̈́ ̊ ͛̐̓ ̀ ̐ ̋ ̃ ͒͗̀ ̒̈ ́ ́ ̽̽̎̅ ̉ ̿ ̛̇ ̽ ̃ ͍͙̪͕̯̏̓̕ ̨ ̰̼͎̱̼͖̠̤ ͅ ͔͖̱̺̯̙̬ ̣ ̢̢̞̫̠̥͍̘ ̣ ̡̘̱̩ ̣ ̯ ̧ ̞ ỏ̵ ̈́ ̄ ̐̽ ̈ ̈́̈́̓͛̓ ̛ ̓̓ ̄̆ ̿̿ ̛ ͑ ̄ ̽ ̌ ̓̎̓̕͝ ̈ ͆̍͊͊̕͝ ́ ̏̓͑ ̀ ̅̓ ̃ ͕̳̠̿͐̎ ͅ o ̷̅̾͑ ̛ ̎͛̾͂ ̇ ̔ ̋ ́ ̦ ͙̯̫͇͈̺̜ o ̵̂ ̽͠ ̃ ̂̊ ͌̈́ ̊ ͊͋̽͑̿ ̂̌ ͑ ̇ ͗̎ ̒ ̐̾̕ ̈ ̽͆̓̓͛ ̆ ̉ ̿̿͌͒ ̊ ̟̖̮̥͛̈́ ̣ ͚̻̯̺̱͓ ̣ ͇͚̙̟̯̰̮̭͎̤͓̤̤̠̮̝̙̬͚̮͔̘ o ̸̏͝ ̒ ̎̅ ̄ ̍͂̽͑ ̌ ̔͊͒̅̿͗̓̚͝ ̆ ̏ ̄ ́̑͌͂̓͆ ̛ ̑̔͑̿ ̒̆ ̹ ̨ ̢͕̱̥̬ ͅ ̡̱̮͈ ̧ ̺̝͓̳̠͚̬ ͅ ̬͕ ̨ ̲͍͕ ̣ ̲͕̫̪̠̞͙̰ o ̸̈́̔ ̈ ͊̓̽͒͂͋͂͒̽͠ ̂ ̐̐ ̈ ̀ ̃ ̐ ̋ ̉ ̩̈́ ̦ ̢̱̭̬͕̘ ̨ ̰͓͖̻̤̭ o ̸͆͒̍͐̈́ ̛ ̜̭́ ͅ ͔͈̳̥ ̨ ̙͓̱̜͉̘̬̥͎ ̦ ̢͕̭͙̜̰ ͅ ̥̙ o ̶ ͑ ̉ ̐̑̐͋͂͠ ̉ ̿ ̇̆ ́́̕ ̇ ͊͒́͝ ̉ ̢̗̤͝ ̧ ̻ ̦ ̪̪͎̹̖͓̟ o ̴͑̈́͆̔̅̚ ̆ ͛͗͛̏͂͗ ̀ ͐͆͋͘͝ ̂ ̘̩͉̯̼̭̳̞̖̟͙̬̺̘̾̐̏̿͗̎̀̍̽͝͠ ̨ ̢̢̪͇̤͉̙͕̼̺̤̗͖̠̳̤̙͜ ̦ ͍̝͎̹̤̗͙ ̨ ̭ o ̶̂ ͊͗͑̿̽̽̔͆͒̔͋͌̚ ̋ ͗͛ ̒ ́̏ ̌̊ ̃ ̽ ́ ̓̽̿̚ ̄̆ ̀̉ ͐̀̈́͌ ̒ ̢̳̰͖͔̪̙̯̙̟̩͍͖͓̩̲̓̓͘ ̨ ̤͔̲͙̞͇̯̼̝̖ ̦ ̢͚͚̤͚̲̭̝̮͕̖̺̳ o ̷ ́ ̽̍͆̿̔ ̈ ̉ ̾͑ ̊̆̂̂ ͋̈́ ̄ ̢͉̟̺̻̲̭̹̖̫̳̤̪̞̲̯̻͉̰̯͊̚͜ ̦ ̖͚͚͖̲͔̩̗͉̜̗̬̳̬͔ o ̷͌́͋͘ ̇ ́ ̉ ̅̍ ̛ ̕ ̛ ̽̈́̓͆̑̐̍̓̈́̾̕̚ ̉̀ ̞͓̜͉̠͒̑͆̐̓͘ ̦ ͎̼̰̱̩̭͇̳̥̺̪̻͔ ̧ ̣ ̱͓̻̰͔̖̞ ͅ ̠̞̖ ̨ ̡̲̜ o ̵ ̍ ̃ ͌͐͘̚ ̇ ̅̕ ̀ ̍ ̈̇ ̅̕ ̀ ̎ ̈ ̐̔̓ ̆ ̿͝ ̛̒ ̉ ̽̐ ̌ ̀͋ ́ ͍̝̗̠͇̩̭͓̘̳̳͍͙̪͇̬͇͕͇̹̠̮̼̘̟̼̓͜ o ̵ ̏͋͝͝ ̈ ̉ ̈ ̏̈́͛̚ ̊̇ ̎̎͝ ́ ̍ ̄̊ ͊ ̌̆̆ ̡̻̬̜̬̮̤̪̍ ̣ ͈̥̩͎̳͕͙̪̤͚͓͔ ̧ ̲̺̳̜̤̰͖͙̠̭̝͍̩ o ̶̛ ̾ ́̃ ͐̐͒͠ ̀ ̽ ̉ ̽̏͋̐͘ ̊ ͒̑ ̛ ͂͝ ̊ ͋͋́͌̈́ ̒ ̢̡̡̩̱͙͈̯͎͕̼̠͔̟͈̲̪̭͓͉̜͎̼̻̬̲ o ̷ ̆ ͆̔̚͝ ̋ ̈́̚ ̀ ̋ ̈́̀ ̛ ̔͗̏̕ ̉ ̒ ̬̱̪̰̺̫̳̪͓̑ ̣ ̯ ̧ ̻̗͍̜ ̦ ̪ o ̸ ̂ ̅̔͂͐́ ̈ ̍̅ ̉ ̈́ ̂ ̿̎ ̒̇ ͆ ̃ ̿̾̿ ̋ ̈́̔̈́ ̀ ̂ ̉́ ̾ ̊ ̀ ͑͐̚͠ ̃ ̈́ ̈ ̫͙͎̞͚̫ ̣ ̡̤͍̮
Ơ̸̧̛̛̛̼̹͇̪̑̊̍̉̇̃͑́̍̿͗̂̆̍̈́͒͂́͆̎͑̉͆̇̋̑̈́̄̂̽͊̀͆͐͘̕̕̚͘n̸͉̙̫̄͆̆̈̆̈́́͛͊̉͋͠ȩ̷͈̭͎̖̼̘͉̤̞̙̻͍͈̩̤̼̱̘̗̻̩̦͙̭̖͇͈͕͇̟̬̼̺͇̥̂̄̈́͂̍̊̓͒͒̓̅͆̍͋͘̚͘͜͝ ̵̧̧̧̛̞͙͎̯̙̮̬͍͓͚̤̳͓̝̿͆̑̆̀̃̿̔̾̈͐̊̈̓̍͗̾̊̈̇̋̽̉̔͘̚͝͝͝d̴̢̨̧̧̥̥̺͉̥̯̥̘̜̥̖͙̰̪̙̦̮̳̪̠̘̤͕͈͚̲̫̳̬͍̣͓͈̆̑͛̽̿́̈́͜͜ą̶̨̢̡̧͍̩͇̻̠͙̤̻̘͕̯͇͉̌͋̋͑̀̊͋̾͆̽̀̊͆̚͜͝ͅȳ̷̨̩̰̱̰͖̭̺̱̖͓͇̫̮̣̬̠̫̗͉̭̝͉̼̠͕̭̙̙̖̘̱͍̜̠͉̲͉̫̋̓̒̾̈́͊̉̈́̀̏̏̄̈́͂̈́́̅͂͐̄̿͊͌͐̋̓͗̎̔̓̐͌̑̅̒̾̆̋̈́̎͊́̌͝͝͝͠͠ ̸̡̨̡̛̲͔̜͚̭̺̼̰̜̬͈̫̱̳̯͋̎̈͐̎̂͜ͅͅw̵̨̢̡̧̨̡̭͈̯̼̱̭̣̻̼̘̙̞͍͈̯̜͚̯̥͚͓͖̱͉̻̜̦͈͖̜̭͎͈͈̩͚̔̑̂̇͋̏̃͜͝ͅͅe̵̡̢̻̹̲͇̣̪͇̰̳͉͊͐̊͋͒͑̃̇͑̽͐̅̄̓̇̐̈́͛̉̓̈́̂̓̅̋̒̑́̋̌̌͐̐̔̔̈̇̃̏͘͘̚̕͝ ̴̡̧̧̨̛̩̦̺͍͈̼̗̘̫̲̘̟̻̱̝̯̲̠͉̖̱͎̺̫͔̝͓̟̘̲̲̤̠̺̤̬͔͉̾͐͌͂̐̃̈̓̈̌̎̀̈́̂̌̉̓̃͋̈́̈́̋̑̓̚͘͠͝͝ͅw̸̙̪̞̳̺̻̟̣͕̰͎̦̜̑͊͗̒̅̒̅̈́̀̋̿̉̈́̔͒̓͛̀̅͆͛͒̔͋̎̇͛̇̋̄̏̓̈́̅͊͑̉̀͒̽̀̈́͗̚̕͝͝͝͝ͅi̵̡͚͉̠͙̗̟̠̪͎͙̺̻̖̼͖̎̈́̿̌̑̂͐̃͗̈́̇̈͒̏́̎̀̍̃͐̿̒̈́̂͊̈́̇̾̂͆͌͐̏̍͑̎̇̈́̋̏̐̓͐́̚͝͠͠l̶̡̠̘͙̣̬̫̖̩̜̤̰̟̤̳̪͕͚̩̬̼͎͔͇̐͂́̌́̅͂́̈͋̿̄͗̈̀̐͌͆̏̋̓̎̂͌̔͌̅̚͘͘̕͜͜͜͠l̴̢̛̛̰̫̺̪̹͚̪̞̫̹̫͔̪̻̻̞̥̯̤͈̝̞̘̉̀̽̔͊͑͐̇͊̅͂̋̿̾̈́̆́͒̊̐̆͗̆̾̽̊̀̀̈́̚͘͘̕̚̕͠͝͝ ̶̢̨̨̧̢̨̛̛̛̜̫̻̳͙̲̝̫̻̮̞͚̳̰͇̖̳̳̱̻̮̼͚͓͖̣̞̞̜̌̓̐̉̈́͛̒͑̀͊̓̃͐̌̐̈́̐͌̌̀̃̃̍̔̉͋͒̔̕͝͝͠͠͝ͅb̶̧̢̨̧̨͉͈̪̤̼̗̣̜̻̠͚̟̯͓̪̭̝͉̫̩̤̹̟͚̬̥̗̰̭̐̀̓̔͗̌͊̀̏̐̾̑̈́̈̿́̀̂̈́̃̔͆̈́͛̉̆̀̓̄͠͝ͅě̷̢̨̫̘̝̺̥̟͎͕̹͙̍͌͊̐̉̀͒̅̚ ̸̡̡̧̢̢̛̹͖̫̖̖̯̝̣͚͔̜̥̠͍͕̺̗̩̟̘̯̞̻̱͇͕̣̦͖̭̗͓͇̤̟͇̻̞͕̅͂̑̂̉̒́͆̏̋̓͗́̇̇͗͂̑̇͗̈́͒͒͆̃̅̒͛̑̐̃̍̂͛͋̄̌̊̔̽̍̓̕͘͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅt̷̢̡̛͍͚͔̦͈̻̤͔͖̞̭̻̾̌̊̉̉͌̽̀̄̏̾́̓̾̈́̏̅͌̊̃͌̃̾͌͆̈́̌͆̒̌̿͐̓̔̊̓͘͘̕͘̚̕̚̚̕͜͠͝ͅơ̸̛̜͓̬͓̘̊͛͑̾̐́̂̋͑̾͆̈́̐̈͗͒͌̈́̎́̈́̍̒̈́̊̄̈͂̋͋̈́̾̎͌̇̿̋͆͘̚͘̚̕͜͝͠͠͝͝ģ̷̡̢̛͕̫̠̫̮͉̜̣͉̩̟̤̪̗̣͖̤̝̫͔̠̹̺̞̲̤̲̥̰̹͉̲̱͚̙̰͎̲͒̀͗̈̽̓̆̈̍̿̀̒̊͑͒̐̔̾̿́̈͑͌̓̎́̈́́́̂̓̂̀̔͂͆̈́̑͋̕͘͜ͅͅͅȩ̶͚͓̗̝̺͖̳̪̳̮̠̔̀̐̈́̏́͆̎̇̄̓́͛̎̈̓͋̂͆̔̑̑͆̄̄̒̀̀͊̏͆̚̚̕̕ţ̶̹̩̣̗̮̣̯͎̠̤͓̳̜̹̭͓͙̟͔̪̺̆̋̆̄̎̉̂͊͑͊h̴̡̨̧̢̡̺͉̬̗͓̣̺͈̹̫͈̯̻͙̲̣̥̝̪̙̠͖̭̩̻̞͈̖̲͇̺̟̰͈̙̊̃͑͑̌̔̏̇̂̎̂̉̀͑̒̂͊͌̀̉͑̆̀̒̏̍̌͛̈́̀̋͛̓͝͝͠ͅͅe̸̢̨̹͓̱͚̠̯̫̗̼̘̺̳̦̮̤̬͕͎̙̟͕̖̩̮̘̬͕̙̻̼̥̭͈̞͎̿̈́̊̎͑̓͆̂͗̔̽́̑̐̃̅͆̏̀̔̊͆͋̌͋̾͂̅͛͘͘͝͝͠͠͠ͅŗ̷̥̗̪̜̤̟͇̹͕̣͍͙̭̹̳̥̖̻̩̪̥̺̔̇̅͌̐͛̆̔̈́̐̾̇̊̊͗̔̽͊̄̑̂̌͒͜͝͝͝ͅͅ ̶̼̯̮͍̆̀̃̇̿͂̀̋̂͋̑͛̀̐̋̆͝͝
°̵̢̧͙̘̹͙͈̯̫̲̪͎̠̦̤̖̳̤̺̞̘̩̗͉͕̮͓͇͕̺̮͉̳̼͚̤̦͓͙̹̲̙͉̋͑̍̃̔̽̌̅̔̄̈̾́̍̃́̓̽̔́͌̆̽̆̍̐̃̂̈́̌̕̚̚͝ͅ ﾟ̶̧̡̯̯̲͔̙̻̓̐̅̂̐͒͊͋̈́̑̓̽̀̽̈́́̃͂͆̎͘º̸̧̡̧̢̧͓͉͔̫͖̬̥̪̬̺͚̮̹̩͇̦̤̺̮̫͔͔̺͓̤̮͇̼̠̟͈̺̘̼̞͕͙͇̄͛͊̈́͑̈͒̐̕̚͘̕͜ͅ❍̷̨̨̢̢̢͉̫̺͚̫̪̜̯̖͇̠͔͙̦̯͓̲͎̹̝̲͚̩̬̭̺̳̙̬̠̰͓̣̬̥͎̥͔̩̇̑̊̉̈́͌̀͋͐̈̊͛̇͂̽̎̿̍̂̎̂̈̈́̈́̃̅̓͑̂̎̊͊͗̑̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠｡̴̧̛̪̹͚͕̯̬̣̲̤̭̩̗͕̈́̌͂̆͆̊̂͐͌̈̓̐̋̑̈́̅̚͜͝°̷̢̢̨̛̮͙̮̪̙͙͖̣͚̭̮̺̤̫̣̬̞̮̙͕̪̻̭̥̦͍̩̩̼̺̲̥̲̒̋̎̓̾̃̑̍̈́͑͜͜͝ﾟ̵̧̧̢̨̨̛̝̻̼̠̩͎̫̜̗̤͎̹͇̝͖̤̯̫̺͚͉͔̦̮̙̜̭͍̰͖̫̠͉̺̰̦̤̝̺̦͎̈́̿͊͊̈̄́͌̌̈́͒̾́͑̊̒̄̈́̊͌̂͊̋̀̈̕͘͝ͅº̴̛̛̛̹͙̭͕̣̻̰̹̬̜̯͖̟̪̲̦̺̩̫̯͍̈̃̀̍̂̓́̈́̓̄͆͛̐̔͋̉͑͆͛̆̾͂̓̀͊͌͐͆̂̀͗̋͛̃̕̕̚̕͜͜͜͠ͅ❍̸̢̡̛̛̙̹̪̣̫̼͎̦̞̲͖̣̲͖̼̖̬̤̭̳͔̠̠̖̱̫̦̳͔̝̱̪̖͔̓͆̒̇͋̅͐̉͆̄̓̋̓͊͂̈́͛͗͛̄̐̑̍̊̋̌͒̀̈́̇̊̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝｡̴̡̛̛̛̛̻͇͍͔͈̰̩̬̳̽̈̅̀̑̓͗͐͛̎̆͋̒̋̈́͌͊͗̓͑͂͗̆́̂͌́̈́͑̎̊̾́̽̍̐̕̚͠͝͝͝°̶̧̨̗̫̲̞̹̬̘̳̦̜̤̠̬̠̝̟̝̑̋̈́͛͑͐̓́͑̾̀͗͒̈̔͆̍̐͒͗̇̃̏̇̽̇͆̆̌̔̇͛̈́̔́͆̆̿̀̔́̕̚̚̕ͅﾟ̶͇̪̦̩̜͚̺̗̻̖̜̺͖̥̳͛̇͛͜º̸̛̛̛̟̦̤̘̗͎͇̗̝̗͈̜̫̹͔͇͚̟̟̟̻̲̭͉̱̭̱̜̥͖͇̼̘͇̰͛̈́̅̑̎̐̔̆̂́̑̓̀̿͗̀̂̾̐͊̽̍̉̃́́̿͊͆́̃̈́̆̊̊͊̏̐͐͘̚̚̕̕͜͠ͅ❍̸̧̜̪̬̱̤̭̱̖̈́̀̑̎́̓͆̇̂̐̍̏̍̐̀̿̌͌̀̔̇͌͂̈́̋́̀͋͌̈́̑͊̄̚̚͜͝͠°̸̬͚̻̗̹̩͓͉͕̙̠̣͉͎̻̟̱̪͔̮͚͉̥͘͜͜͜ﾟ̷̳̠̗̙͙̝̬͔̼͗͌͋͐̈̉͊͝͝ͅº̴̡̡̨̢̧̮̖̪̻̭̝̞͖͖͇̺̮̳̱̹̻̭̺͓̳̪͈̬̟̘̤̺͕̭͎͎͍̱͗͜͝❍̵͎͕̱̯̪̈̔͗̓͛̐͗́͒̐́̊͑̍̾̀͂͆͗͆͊͋͗̀̏͐̿͐̍͊͂͋̈́̕͝͝｡̴̡̢̡̧̗̫̩̥̫͇̝̯̻̫̮̯̗̻̼̞͇̦͇̬̮̦̖̪̲̙̺͖͙̩̗̙̳̺̳͔̺̱̠̝̖͇̰̀̂́͆͑̏̃̔̈̄́͋͋ͅ°̵̡̡̢̢̜̮̰͖̪̰͙̯͕̬̞̜̞̗͖̦͕̟̠̙̝̟̲̹̻̬̻̼͍̙̥̪͚͖̟̹̾͌̓̽͂̃̈́̓̓̑̿͛̄̂͂̈͆͆̎̋̅̄̃̈̐́͐͑͌́͋̚̚̕̕ͅͅﾟ̴̡̧̨̢̭͇͎̮̳̦̞̤͈͇͚̺̫̺̻͍͕͓̣͓͙̟̦̦̤̲͖͓̽̀̓̃̆̎͌͐̂̈͒́̾̓̈́͂͊̋̐̂͒̓͒̂͛͗̎̃͆͋̊̓͘̚͜͜͠ͅº̵̗̺̞̬͈̭̯̣̗̣̥͇͇̲̙̈́̀̽͛̊͂́́̚͝͠❍̴̡̢̛̙̺̖͎͍͖̞̪͍̹̰͍̺̙͎͈̭̭̖̼̥͕̣̰̬̩̹̩̮̱̻͍̥̦͂̃̈́͊̉̄͋̇̋͐̌̓́̀̓̈́̂͗̑̃̄̉̓̏͛̆̽͌͆̽͐͑͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝｡̴̨̡̧̢̨̛̥̗̝̜̮̝͇̜̣͈̹̭͓͍̟̭̖̻̰̙̭̫̰͉̝̬͇͚̪͔̙̈̆̒̽̃̑̄͛͌͑̒͛̒̉̒̊̐̂͆̔̿̑̆̌͊̌̎̊̆͆͐̽̓̚̚̚͜͜͠ͅ°̷̢̡̛͍̯̖͇͚̪̺̪̣̞̱̲̟̪̤̪̯͍̬̲̖̖̱̲̖̲̲̗̫̪̱̭̗̹͙̓̌̀̋̓͂͂̎̉͂̇̑͛͆͆͛̇͐̑̈́̈́͘ﾟ̷̢̧̥͖̦̳͚̙̰̠̲̭̫̬͍̘̟͚̩̩̳̫̥̘̖̩̰̭̰̟̩̞̬̮̘̱̩̠̗̗̻̣̥͈̤̻̃͗̉̈́̊̂̿͆̄̆͑̿͂̄̚ͅº̷̡̔͑̂̅̐̑̂̏̆̈́͆͌̿̂̌͂͑̍̀͌̃̎́̒́̊͛̚̚͠͝͝͝͝❍̷̝̺̱̭̝̖̟̬̣̣͍͓̞̳̻̻̹͉͎͇͇͎͕̫͉͇̺̈̄̈̿͊̓̏̃͜ͅ｡
°̵̢̧͙̘̹͙͈̯̫̲̪͎̠̦̤̖̳̤̺̞̘̩̗͉͕̮͓͇͕̺̮͉̳̼͚̤̦͓͙̹̲̙͉̋͑̍̃̔̽̌̅̔̄̈̾́̍̃́̓̽̔́͌̆̽̆̍̐̃̂̈́̌̕̚̚͝ͅ ﾟ̶̧̡̯̯̲͔̙̻̓̐̅̂̐͒͊͋̈́̑̓̽̀̽̈́́̃͂͆̎͘º̸̧̡̧̢̧͓͉͔̫͖̬̥̪̬̺͚̮̹̩͇̦̤̺̮̫͔͔̺͓̤̮͇̼̠̟͈̺̘̼̞͕͙͇̄͛͊̈́͑̈͒̐̕̚͘̕͜ͅ❍̷̨̨̢̢̢͉̫̺͚̫̪̜̯̖͇̠͔͙̦̯͓̲͎̹̝̲͚̩̬̭̺̳̙̬̠̰͓̣̬̥͎̥͔̩̇̑̊̉̈́͌̀͋͐̈̊͛̇͂̽̎̿̍̂̎̂̈̈́̈́̃̅̓͑̂̎̊͊͗̑̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠｡̴̧̛̪̹͚͕̯̬̣̲̤̭̩̗͕̈́̌͂̆͆̊̂͐͌̈̓̐̋̑̈́̅̚͜͝°̷̢̢̨̛̮͙̮̪̙͙͖̣͚̭̮̺̤̫̣̬̞̮̙͕̪̻̭̥̦͍̩̩̼̺̲̥̲̒̋̎̓̾̃̑̍̈́͑͜͜͝ﾟ̵̧̧̢̨̨̛̝̻̼̠̩͎̫̜̗̤͎̹͇̝͖̤̯̫̺͚͉͔̦̮̙̜̭͍̰͖̫̠͉̺̰̦̤̝̺̦͎̈́̿͊͊̈̄́͌̌̈́͒̾́͑̊̒̄̈́̊͌̂͊̋̀̈̕͘͝ͅº̴̛̛̛̹͙̭͕̣̻̰̹̬̜̯͖̟̪̲̦̺̩̫̯͍̈̃̀̍̂̓́̈́̓̄͆͛̐̔͋̉͑͆͛̆̾͂̓̀͊͌͐͆̂̀͗̋͛̃̕̕̚̕͜͜͜͠ͅ❍̸̢̡̛̛̙̹̪̣̫̼͎̦̞̲͖̣̲͖̼̖̬̤̭̳͔̠̠̖̱̫̦̳͔̝̱̪̖͔̓͆̒̇͋̅͐̉͆̄̓̋̓͊͂̈́͛͗͛̄̐̑̍̊̋̌͒̀̈́̇̊̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝｡̴̡̛̛̛̛̻͇͍͔͈̰̩̬̳̽̈̅̀̑̓͗͐͛̎̆͋̒̋̈́͌͊͗̓͑͂͗̆́̂͌́̈́͑̎̊̾́̽̍̐̕̚͠͝͝͝°̶̧̨̗̫̲̞̹̬̘̳̦̜̤̠̬̠̝̟̝̑̋̈́͛͑͐̓́͑̾̀͗͒̈̔͆̍̐͒͗̇̃̏̇̽̇͆̆̌̔̇͛̈́̔́͆̆̿̀̔́̕̚̚̕ͅﾟ̶͇̪̦̩̜͚̺̗̻̖̜̺͖̥̳͛̇͛͜º̸̛̛̛̟̦̤̘̗͎͇̗̝̗͈̜̫̹͔͇͚̟̟̟̻̲̭͉̱̭̱̜̥͖͇̼̘͇̰͛̈́̅̑̎̐̔̆̂́̑̓̀̿͗̀̂̾̐͊̽̍̉̃́́̿͊͆́̃̈́̆̊̊͊̏̐͐͘̚̚̕̕͜͠ͅ❍̸̧̜̪̬̱̤̭̱̖̈́̀̑̎́̓͆̇̂̐̍̏̍̐̀̿̌͌̀̔̇͌͂̈́̋́̀͋͌̈́̑͊̄̚̚͜͝͠°̸̬͚̻̗̹̩͓͉͕̙̠̣͉͎̻̟̱̪͔̮͚͉̥͘͜͜͜ﾟ̷̳̠̗̙͙̝̬͔̼͗͌͋͐̈̉͊͝͝ͅº̴̡̡̨̢̧̮̖̪̻̭̝̞͖͖͇̺̮̳̱̹̻̭̺͓̳̪͈̬̟̘̤̺͕̭͎͎͍̱͗͜͝❍̵͎͕̱̯̪̈̔͗̓͛̐͗́͒̐́̊͑̍̾̀͂͆͗͆͊͋͗̀̏͐̿͐̍͊͂͋̈́̕͝͝｡̴̡̢̡̧̗̫̩̥̫͇̝̯̻̫̮̯̗̻̼̞͇̦͇̬̮̦̖̪̲̙̺͖͙̩̗̙̳̺̳͔̺̱̠̝̖͇̰̀̂́͆͑̏̃̔̈̄́͋͋ͅ°̵̡̡̢̢̜̮̰͖̪̰͙̯͕̬̞̜̞̗͖̦͕̟̠̙̝̟̲̹̻̬̻̼͍̙̥̪͚͖̟̹̾͌̓̽͂̃̈́̓̓̑̿͛̄̂͂̈͆͆̎̋̅̄̃̈̐́͐͑͌́͋̚̚̕̕ͅͅﾟ̴̡̧̨̢̭͇͎̮̳̦̞̤͈͇͚̺̫̺̻͍͕͓̣͓͙̟̦̦̤̲͖͓̽̀̓̃̆̎͌͐̂̈͒́̾̓̈́͂͊̋̐̂͒̓͒̂͛͗̎̃͆͋̊̓͘̚͜͜͠ͅº̵̗̺̞̬͈̭̯̣̗̣̥͇͇̲̙̈́̀̽͛̊͂́́̚͝͠❍̴̡̢̛̙̺̖͎͍͖̞̪͍̹̰͍̺̙͎͈̭̭̖̼̥͕̣̰̬̩̹̩̮̱̻͍̥̦͂̃̈́͊̉̄͋̇̋͐̌̓́̀̓̈́̂͗̑̃̄̉̓̏͛̆̽͌͆̽͐͑͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝｡̴̨̡̧̢̨̛̥̗̝̜̮̝͇̜̣͈̹̭͓͍̟̭̖̻̰̙̭̫̰͉̝̬͇͚̪͔̙̈̆̒̽̃̑̄͛͌͑̒͛̒̉̒̊̐̂͆̔̿̑̆̌͊̌̎̊̆͆͐̽̓̚̚̚͜͜͠ͅ°̷̢̡̛͍̯̖͇͚̪̺̪̣̞̱̲̟̪̤̪̯͍̬̲̖̖̱̲̖̲̲̗̫̪̱̭̗̹͙̓̌̀̋̓͂͂̎̉͂̇̑͛͆͆͛̇͐̑̈́̈́͘ﾟ̷̢̧̥͖̦̳͚̙̰̠̲̭̫̬͍̘̟͚̩̩̳̫̥̘̖̩̰̭̰̟̩̞̬̮̘̱̩̠̗̗̻̣̥͈̤̻̃͗̉̈́̊̂̿͆̄̆͑̿͂̄̚ͅº̷̡̔͑̂̅̐̑̂̏̆̈́͆͌̿̂̌͂͑̍̀͌̃̎́̒́̊͛̚̚͠͝͝͝͝❍̷̝̺̱̭̝̖̟̬̣̣͍͓̞̳̻̻̹͉͎͇͇͎͕̫͉͇̺̈̄̈̿͊̓̏̃͜ͅ｡
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°°°°° °°°°°° °°°°° °°°°°
°º̸͉̬̺̖̬͓̉́̒̓̃̑͒͂͂́̃̂͌̀̿̀́̍͗̄͌̿̋͌̚̚͝͝°°°° °.̶̡̢̹̬͎̭̘̹̤̟̞̖̺͔͈̱̼͓͆̆̀̍̈́̏̾̏̓̒̅̇̃̃̋͛͗̀̕͝͝͝ͅ° °°°º̸͉̬̺̖̬͓̉́̒̓̃̑͒͂͂́̃̂͌̀̿̀́̍͗̄͌̿̋͌̚̚͝͝°°
°.̶̡̢̹̬͎̭̘̹̤̟̞̖̺͔͈̱̼͓͆̆̀̍̈́̏̾̏̓̒̅̇̃̃̋͛͗̀̕͝͝͝ͅ°
°
.̶̡̢̹̬͎̭̘̹̤̟̞̖̺͔͈̱̼͓͆̆̀̍̈́̏̾̏̓̒̅̇̃̃̋͛͗̀̕͝͝͝ͅ.̶̡̢̹̬͎̭̘̹̤̟̞̖̺͔͈̱̼͓͆̆̀̍̈́̏̾̏̓̒̅̇̃̃̋͛͗̀̕͝͝͝ͅ°.̶̡̢̹̬͎̭̘̹̤̟̞̖̺͔͈̱̼͓͆̆̀̍̈́̏̾̏̓̒̅̇̃̃̋͛͗̀̕͝͝͝ͅ.̶̡̢̹̬͎̭̘̹̤̟̞̖̺͔͈̱̼͓͆̆̀̍̈́̏̾̏̓̒̅̇̃̃̋͛͗̀̕͝͝͝ͅ
࿐ ࿔*: ･ﾟ
࿐ ࿔*
࿐ ࿔*: ･ﾟ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
°̸̡̧̡̨̼̠̦͎̩̠̹̠͎̭̻̯͙̗̠̠̹͚̝̥̞̥͍͕͕͓͉̩̣̥̝͆̄͊͜
"—ad?"
There's something shaking him
"—ad!?"
Whatever it is, it's really annoying. He swats at it, groaning in annoyance as whatever soft blanket is on him slides off his shoulders.
"DAD!"
Solar startles awake, looking at the frantic image of his son with wide optics. Jack is crying.
Why is Jack crying?
"Oh bud—"
Sand slides off of him as he reaches for his son, and this is when he realises they're on the beach.
Why..?
Then it all comes back to him like a gut punch, and he clutches at his son just as desperately as the little mer is clutching at him.
He died. Or he should have died!
Why didn't he? How is he here?
The red figure before he passed out. That must have been another mer!
Did they bring him to shore?
What he thought was a blanket slips more off of him as Jack wails and blabbers into his arms, and for some unfathomable reason he feels the urge to look at it. It's not a blanket
It's a seal skin
Now Solar doesn't know much of seals, but he's fairly certain this is not how any species look. And not just because of the unnatural colours that seem to... resemble... him... They seem to resemble him... But because of the mix of stripes and spots, and the slightly longer fur along the head's edges.
"What- What is this?"
He can't take his optics off of it. Even as his son sniffs in his arms, barely gathering himself into something calm, he can't tear his vision away. He keeps staring at it.
"I- I don't know. You were- You were covered with it when- when- when I found you"
Why is it so familiar? Why does it feel so important?
The villagers. If they don't get away now, then the villagers will get them
"Jack, go back to the water. We need to leave"
But how will they leave?
"I don't want to leave you!"
"We don't have time for this, the people will find you!"
And then they will kill him, and Solar can't let that happen. He won't let any single one of them touch his child.
"I'm staying with you!"
Tears are gathering in orange eyes again, and it breaks something in him to push his son away and towards the beautiful sea.
"And I will follow you, after I get our— Argh!"
He's interrupted by a wave crashing over them, dragging them deeper into the not so peaceful water, and in his panic he grabs onto the only thing he can.
It's the weird in seal skin, but before he can really curse himself for grabbing that instead of his son, who was right there, it disappears.
He tumbles a bit more as the sea recedes, coming to a disorienting stop on now wet sand. He's quick to shake himself, because he has a child to look for.
"Jack?!"
His voice sound a bit weird, but that might just be because he needs to recalibrate his voicebox. He can do that later.
"JACK!"
Where is his son?!
"...Dad?"
He looks towards the voice, and would have happily ran there if his legs felt up to cooperating with him. They feel weird right now, but that doesn't matter. He will just drag himself over if he has to.
"Jack! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
"Ugh..."
His son is looking at him weirdly, and it takes a second for him to realise he's a bit bigger than he was before... Actually a lot bigger...
"Dad..? Is that- ugh... you?"
"Why wouldn't it be me?"
He reaches out with a hand, only to stop. That's not a hand.
He's looking at a burgundy flipper with starkly silver endings. He tries moving his hand again, but only the flipper responds.
He stares blankly at it, turning to look at his other hand too, meeting not just a flipper, but an orange and burgundy body too. With... stripes and spots on it...
He tries moving his legs again, this time turning back to the best of his abilities, it's kind of hard, and he comes face to face with a tail similarly coloured to the flippers.
What?
"Ugh dad? Since when could you do that?"
Seal skin. Water hits, he grabs skin, skin disappears.
Mers exist. Mers have magic.
Seal skin. Water. Transformation.
Are selkies real?
Solar drags himself away from the water's edge, towards a puddle of water left by the previous wave. He doesn't have a mirror on him, so it should do.
When he looks in, he's met with a seal. One with slightly longer tufts of fur where his rays would be, pink cheeks where his own are painted like that, and black eyes that seem to shine the tinies bit pinkish red.
Seal. He's a seal.
"What the fuck"
How is he supposed to turn back..?
Is he stuck like this? As a fucking seal for the rest of his life? Because a fucking wave decided to try and drown him again?!
He's an animatronic! How in the fuck is this possible?!
He's overcome with dizziness, and when he reaches for his head it's with a hand. The seal skin slides the tiniest bit from his shoulders, and he grabs it in a moment of panic.
He doesn't want to find out what would happen if he lost it.
"Dad?"
Right. Jack
"I'm fine bud. Just... unsure what to do with... this"
He waves vaguely in the direction of his apparent seal skin,. He can hear Jack drag himself closer.
"How did you turn into a seal? Is it the skin?" his son gasps, and when he turns to him his eyes are sparkling and his tail is wagging "Do you have magic?"
He almost says no, but then he thinks about it.
Selkies are known for their ability to transform into seals. They're also sometimes able to bewitch people with their voices in certain tales. Is he able to do that?
"I think I do"
Jack squeals in happiness, throwing himself at Solar in glee. He feels a bit numb as he hugs him back, turning back to stare at the puddle of water some more.
He can't ignore the skin's head over his shoulder