bigapplesauce | Strong like an Amazon [OPEN]

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Strong like an Amazon [OPEN]

"Your shirt," Tara says, her brow knitting in a worried frown. It's spattered with red.

The last thing she sees is Willow's horrified face, as she collapses and everything goes dark. She doesn't have time to consider what this means. It just seems to happen.

And then she's... elsewhere.

Everything is soft and warm, and she know Willow's all right. She must be grieving, she must be in pain, but she will be okay. She has her friends, and she's strong. She'll heal and prosper and be safe. So will the rest of her friends. It's all going to be okay.

She doesn't know how long she's there. It can't be too long, but time seems to have no meaning.

And then she's not. The sunlight is harsh and bright, and there's all this noise. Traffic.

A lot of traffic, all around her. She's... in the middle of a round-about? It takes several long minutes for her to take in her surroundings. Gigantic buildings, tourists, cars. The noise is deafening. She looks down at herself, her jeans and blue sweater... the dark red stain and hole in her sweater, just over her heart. She touches it, but the skin there is unharmed, whole.

How did she get here? Where is here? The questions are too many for her to order in her mind, and she's not sure exactly what's happening. She has to collect herself for a minute to stop from panicking.

And she seems to be stuck atop the base of a monument. The granite is warm against her back, and it's just a little too far down for her to feel comfortable jumping. Especially given how shaky she currently feels.

"E-excuse me," she calls out to a passer-by. "I'm sorry, c- could you help me?"

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It's really saying something that a woman spontaneously appearing on top of a statue isn't the most alarming thing Daniel's seen all week. At least he's almost come to expect it at this point as the Rift...does what it does, operating under whatever schedule it has, if that's even a thing. That's really the least of his concerns at the moment.

"Hey," he calls back, waving and darting to the monument's base. She seems okay from here, just startled and disoriented, pretty much the norm for someone who's just been torn from their universe and unceremoniously dumped into another. "You're gonna be okay, don't worry." Maybe they should start with the more immediate problem. The more immediate, much more explainable problem. "Just, uh - we're gonna get you down, all right?"

Tara can't help but feel a little confused at just how helpful and reassuring the man she called over is. Is it that obvious that she's, well, a little panicked? Apparently. But if it gets her help, she doesn't mind.

She nods nervously, scooching carefully towards the edge and letting her feet down over the edge. At least the guy she called over is tall and strong-looking. He can probably catch her if she falls. Not wanting to jump from here, she carefully turns over and lets herself down the ledge as gently as possible, grateful when Daniel makes sure she gets down okay.

"Um, th-thank you," she says, stepping back and tucking her hair behind her ears.

It takes a little maneuvering to ease her down, but gradually they both manage it. She looks young, a little on the shakier side, and there's an unnerving dark stain on her chest that looks disturbingly like the sort of injury a bullet would leave behind. But she's obviously moving around unhindered, not in the great deal of pain a gunshot wound to the chest would be generating right around now, so Daniel's making the command decision to file that bullet point away for later. First things first.

"It's okay," he says again, moving back to give her the benefit of space and hovering one hand halfway between a reassurance and a wave of greeting. "This is, um. I know it's a lot to take in at, at first. You're, ah." Puzzlement ripples across his features briefly as he determines the best way to put it, then decides there really isn't any point. It'll hit just as hard either way. But there's no keeping the note of apology from his voice as he continues, softly, "you're in another universe."

A lot to take in is a bit of an understatement. Then again, when you've been through an apocalypse or two, your bar is pretty high. She's not unfamiliar with the idea of other universes or dimensions. Alternate realities. She's contacted them on more than one occasion. But to actually be in one...

"Is this, uh," she begins, wringing her hands a little and tugging at her sleeves. Her last memories are starting to make themselves painfully clear in her mind. "Is this s-some sort of after-life?"

"What?"

Okay, so that's going to have to be added to Daniel's mental FAQ - doubly so, considering he'd briefly wondered the same thing himself.

Suddenly the obvious, if oddly nonexistent, bullet wound makes a lot more sense. He grimaces.

"No," he says gently. "Just a normal - well, I wouldn't say normal. But, uh, pretty sure it's nothing like that. You came through a Rift. Space-time distortion, actually kind of frequent here."

He keeps his tone level, almost conversational, trying to stagger the information flow somewhat. It's the most he can do to make this transition less overwhelming or terrifying than it probably already is.

She reaches up and touches the hole in her shirt in contemplation. This makes no sense. Obviously it happened, otherwise why would her shirt look like this? Did someone or something heal her? Is that what she remembers, the warm light? Or was that the after-life? And if so, why would she end up here in her unharmed body.

"Like a portal," she says, more to herself than anything else. How does he know this? It doesn't seem like he's the one who brought her here.

She's about to ask where exactly 'here' is, when she realises she doesn't even know his name, and here he's talking to her about space-time distortions. "Um, sorry, I'm Tara," she introduces herself awkwardly. She tries for a smile that barely clocks half a second.

"Yes." He offers a faint smile, as fleeting and fluttering as hers, pleased that the concept isn't wholly new to her. "Yes, exactly."

God, was she shot literally seconds before she came here? That might be an uncommon thing to have in common with a person, brushing against death, so he leaves that where it is. For now, anyway.

"Daniel." His second attempt is a sadder, if somewhat more successful, tug at one corner of his mouth. "I know it's, it's kind of a lot. You're on Earth," and hopefully that's a reassurance and not deeply unsettling that Earth would be included in the standard introductory fare, "and you're in Manhattan, New York. August, 2013."

"Tw-two thousand and thirteen?" she asks in surprise. She had been with him up until that point. A whole different state, the opposite coast, but at least the same country. Something she's familiar with. Something she's seen in pictures. Perhaps those trees over there is Central Park. The time frame is a bit harder to swallow.

"I've been dead for eleven years?" she continues, this piece of information hitting a little harder than the other ones for some reason. Her brain is still catching up with her. She's doing to need to sit down. She's just going to... sit down right here, on these nice stone steps.

"You've been -" The echo dies half-formed, Daniel's perplexed frown darkening and fading in the same instant.

The bullet hole did make it fairly obvious, and questions about the afterlife on top of it.

He slides down onto the steps next to her, expression tightening in sympathy.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs finally, fully aware of how useless it is as a consolation. "Your shirt, it's - well. I saw the injury. I wasn't sure you were aware of it."

She nods a little at his sympathy, swallowing and staring at the fountain in front of them. It still doesn't make sense, but she's not sure how important it is that it does. The specifics don't really matter right now.

"I was..." she begins, not sure if this is really something he needs to know, but she'd like to go through it for her own sake. "I was in my room, and Willow was standing in front of me. And then there were these loud noises, and suddenly Willow had red on her, and.. and she looked... so scared." Her face twists in despair at recalling Willow's expression. She never wants to see her girl like that. They'd been so happy, finally, after everything that happened.

She draws a shaky breath, her vision having become somewhat blurry. "And then I passed out, and I was somewhere else.. Somewhere warm and bright. And then... I woke up here," she forces herself to continue.

She doesn't know if she was ever dead, if that's what it was that she remembers, but she certainly would've been if she hadn't ended up here. Judging by the holes in her sweater.

Oh god, and she remembers. Something in the pit of Daniel's stomach contorts, his expression deepening into one of concern. She must have been shot - from behind, probably, and completely unaware of it, and almost immediately after - oh god.

Some days he really, really loathes the Rift.

Daniel wishes he could promise some measure of safety here. His brow creases, shoulders dropping.

"You're okay now," he says softly. "And you are alive, I can tell you that. We haven't figured out any ways back but, uh." His smile grows wry, quietly self-deprecating in an attempt to lighten the weight of everything she's just said. "Well, I can also say you're not the only one who's, ah, died before coming here."

If she did go back, where would she go back to? And would she still be alive?

She blinks in surprise at the news she isn't the only one though. How can they really know it's not some form of after-life then? Well, presumably not everyone dies first. Though given the possibility of dying in your sleep, or too fast to notice, how would they even know for sure?

"Did... did you...?" she asks, looking over at him, letting the question hang unfinished.

"Not on the way here," he clarifies hastily. "More like it was a recurring thing. Not really the best pattern to have, I know." He smiles faintly with a hopeful tilt to his glance, wondering if a lighter, decidedly nonchalant tone will make it a little easier to bear.

"I guess my point here would be," he swings back toward sympathy almost immediately, meets her gaze steadily, "that you're not alone."

Well, he wouldn't be the first person she's met who's died multiple times. Hey, she was even part of bringing one of them back. Still, always a little strange to wrap her head around, and sometimes it can be a very bad sign. But it doesn't feel like it with Daniel.

She smiles at his reassurance, and this time it manages to stick, even it's a little watery. She studies him for a moment, taking him and his aura in. It's warm and solid, unwavering, and makes her feel like she can trust him, like he's safe. As far as welcoming committees go, she thinks she got lucky. And there's something else there too, which she can't put her finger on. Perhaps it's a remnant on his multiple deaths, though she thinks that would feel fouler. Not that it did for Buffy.

"Do you have a phone?" she asks after several long moments. She doesn't expect it to do any good. Not if what he's saying is true. But she can't not try.

Some of her tension and uncertainty fades a little, and Daniel takes that as a good sign. It's never an easy transition, and being dropped here after dying is certainly much, much worse.

"I do." He scrambles to pull it out, hesitates, then resigns himself to the explanation required there as well. "All the rifties - people like you and me, people who come through - we all have one. For contacting each other since we, ah, can't really leave the city. That's probably one of the first things we should get for you."

It's not a terrible leap to assume what Tara might want with a phone, and he's not about to deny that. He holds it out.

Tara nods slowly. Special phones for 'rifties', okay. Can't leave the city - why? And we should get for her? She supposes that means Daniel isn't about to abandon her with a pat on the head, which is good. She feels more than a little lost, and she doesn't... she doesn't even have a wallet with her.

She pushes those questions aside for the benefit of the phone for the moment, though when she gets it it takes her a moment to figure it out. It doesn't have buttons. Oh, alright, like a laptop touch-pad, only it's the screen itself, okay... That makes sense. 2013.

She tries Willow's phone first. Then Buffy's house. Then the Magic Box. All of which give her nothing but error messages, and after that she decides it's silly to keep trying. She might go through every number she knows later, but not here, feet from where she apparently fell through an interdimensional portal, with a bloodied shirt and teary eyes.

"Thanks..." she says, handing it back with a weak smile. He probably knew it would be no good, and he let her try anyway.

He moves away to give her some distance as she tries number after number after doomed number, then accepts the phone wordlessly and pockets it again once she's done. He won't challenge the instinctive need to confirm what, exactly, has just happened to her.

"It'll be okay." He can only say it with relative confidence - explaining the Rift's less savory side effects isn't really going to be helpful in this situation, and it's hardly all that relevant currently - but reassurances feel all in all pretty necessary. "I mean, I, I know it's overwhelming. But a lot of people here have been displaced, taken from their homes, like us. We're still looking for a way to get it to send us back. I don't think we'll ever stop looking, honestly."

He burrows his hands loosely in his pockets, mirrors her smile with a small, melancholy shade of one.

"The good news is that there's housing, money and resources for however, um, however long you're here."

She nods quietly at his reassurances. It's probably going to take a while for all this to absorb. But apparently what to take away from this is; as far as interdimensional displacement goes, this isn't so bad. It's kind of meager comfort considering moments ago she was in Willow's arms, in the house of friends who love her, and now she's... very far away, in so many ways.

Tara realises now that she can feel it. The - Rift, that's what he called it. She can feel it in the air and the ground, like how she can feel magic and the Earth around her. Everything feels different and strange and foreign. Not malevolent, but not exactly friendly either...

"Housing? Um, how...?" she begins, not sure which question to ask, just wanting him to elaborate.

Edited 2015-03-31 16:29 (UTC)

"Just, uh," he hastens to explain, latching onto the trailing end of her unspoken question. "There are a couple organizations and, and whatnot, who provide for people who come through. You can get money and resources from them if, if you like."

He nibbles his lower lip briefly, internally debating how much else he should say, then presses on.

"Fair warning, though." He doesn't want to scare her, not when she's already so clearly disoriented and recently adjusting, but he has a disproportionately large number of friends who have been too poorly treated by the factions to not say something about it. He can't help but feel it's his responsibility on some level, seeing as neither ROMAC or the Rebels are likely to be up front about it. "Not everyone gets involved with them. They, ah - don't always work to the individual's best interest? 'Disreputable' is, um, is a word I might use."

Tara frowns at his warning. Her mind can't help but go to the Initiative. Her experience with organisations dealing with supernatural stuff has not been altogether positive.

"Well... what's my alternative?" she asks, frowning. She doesn't want to involve herself with some big organisation if she can help it, especially one that comes with a disclaimer like that. And her requirements aren't exactly high, but she still needs to eat. And she'd rather not have to steal by putting magic whammies on someone for it.

"Well, you can do what I did." He folds his arms, inclining his chin diplomatically. "Struck out on my own, squared away a place with the help of a few friends. 'Course, I did get lucky there." Exceptionally. He's been even luckier to land himself a job to hold onto it.

"There are more independent parties." One hand rubs under his jaw thoughtfully as he mentally constructs the least alarming way to put it. "Er - powerful sorts. We get a lot of, of different people coming through here. And not all of them are people, per se, or - well, not all of them are human, I should say."

All fine for a more long-term plan, but Tara's still a bit lost as to do right now. But maybe if she gets a phone like that, she can reach out to others who've been in similar situations. Maybe someone needs a roommate and doesn't mind waiting until she's gotten a job, or in return for keeping things tidy or something. She'll figure something out...

"What.. sort of non-human?" she asks cautiously. Is he talking about things like vampires or demons? Or something else?

"Uh, well." Yeah, there's no sugarcoating this one. He scratches his nose, shoots a resigned look skyward, and dives right in. "Angels, for, for one. Vampires. Aliens. And, um. Well. The Devil."

No avoiding that one, either. And it's better she get a warning sooner rather than later, if only to avoid a repeat of Daniel's case.

Well, aliens is new. The rest is... okay, then. She nods slowly, and it's perhaps a bit telling that this is not the most shocking news she's had today. If they're talking Biblical angels, that's pretty uncommon. The definite article before the Devil is... Hmm.

"Lucifer? What, uh, what does he look like?" she asks. She doesn't want to accidentally bump into him. While she thinks she would probably notice soon enough, it's good to know more.

He gauges her reaction carefully, taking note of how quickly she adapts to the rather abnormal circumstances.

"Not what you'd expect, believe me." The smile he shoots in her direction is a startled, raised-eyebrow quirk of one side of his mouth. "Kind of - alarmingly average-looking. Bit taller than me, probably mid-forties, but he doesn't typically go, you know, out and about."

Just when he's dropping in on Daniel to chat about morality and Ascension. Daniel grimaces a little, hastily pressing that thought aside, because now is definitely not the time to be thinking about that. At all.

"You can probably tell," he assures her. "He sort of - carries himself a certain way." Though Daniel had been lucky enough to have some leftover sensory capabilities, honed enough to pick up on the fact that the man he and Iman were drinking with was not a man at all.

His smile eases a little, settles into something less confused. "Not all new for you?"

Well, at least that narrows it a little bit, even if that's still a pretty wide net. She hopes he's right in that she can tell. Considering he doesn't know she's a witch and he still thinks so probably means that she'd be able to.

She shakes her head a little at the question, pulling up her knees a little and wrapping her arms around them. "I sort of... live on the Hellmouth," she answers. "Demons and vampires are pretty standard fare. The occasional hell-god." She nods, pressing her lips together in a smile, as if this is perfectly normal. Well, it is for her, but it wasn't quite public knowledge even in Sunnydale.

Okay, so at least she's prepared? His eyebrows shoot up a little at Hellmouth, which carries a meaning both unknown and relatively obvious.

"Don't think we have any of those here," he says in a tone of mock sincerity. "Hellmouths, that is. Or. Well. We might. Standby for that one."

Some of the drawn-up tension that's been building in the line of his shoulders since her arrival unravels, and he leans back a little more comfortably, bracing one hand behind him for support.

"You shouldn't have too much trouble adjusting, then," he says companionably, angling his head slightly. "The Rift likes to make things difficult occasionally, but I don't think it's ever gone down the route of hell-gods."

"It's in California," she answers with a one-shouldered shrug. Well, the one she lives - lived on, at any rate. She doesn't think there's any near New York. Different universe, though. Different rules. The big adjustment is probably rather the size of the city, and the time difference.

She's not going to go into the specifics of her personal experience with a certain hell-god. "That's definitely for the best," she answers with a nod. "I wouldn't recommend it."

"Um... Are you human?" she asks suddenly, then realises how blunt that came out and tries to backtrack a little. "I mean, I, I don't mean to be rude, just. There's something, something off about you." Oh, that sounds even worse, and her face twists awkwardly.

He glances at her smoothly, appraisingly, for a moment, then his eyes flick downward.

"No," he admits simply. There isn't any point in hiding it, especially when he doesn't fully understand it himself. He hasn't gotten any warning bells or quiet thrills from the infuriatingly silent senses locked in the hindmost part of his skull, but the fact that there's nothing about Tara he can detect is no less incomprehensible than if there had been. "Mostly, yes. But when you make a habit of dying reversibly, sometimes you come back a little changed."

Tara feels a little awful for bringing it up like that, and she gives him an apologetic, sympathetic look.

"It's, it's alright," she says quickly, reassuringly. "I don't mind. One of my friends has died twice, and she's alright. And another's an ex-demon. And um, one used to be a ball of mystical energy," she continues, smiling encouragingly.

"Really." His mouth twitches in amusement. "Well with that track record, you're nothing if not prepared for the Rift." He considers for a minute, then shrugs. "Ex-demon's probably the only one of those I haven't been."

But she's adaptable, and that's a good sign. Daniel rolls his shoulders back in a quick, tensing stretch and looks up, shading his eyes against the sun.

"We should probably set you up with a phone, someplace to stay. You good to walk?"

Tara sometimes feels like an ex-demon, except she never was one to begin with, she just thought she was. But she's learned it's not as simple as that when it comes to whether someone is good or bad. And that it's not as simple as just being good or bad either. Certainly not when it comes to humans.

She nods and gets to her feet, brushing herself off. That hole and blood stain is really noticeable, isn't it? She worries her lip a little, glancing up at Daniel.

Well, she'll have to try at some point, right? And Daniel's just admitted to being not entirely human, and he seems trustworthy, so...

She gathers her thoughts, drawing in power from her surroundings. "Exsercio," she says quietly, sliding her hand over the hole, which knits itself together as the stain fades away and disappears. She makes sure the same thing happened to the hole in the back as well. At least now she'll blend in a bit more easily.

His eyes flick patiently to scan the anonymous spill of civilians flowing past, ensuring they don't have any suspiciously alert, potentially hostile ROMAC or Rebel personnel surveying them. When the cursory check reveals nothing, he turns back to Tara in time to see her hand falling away from a shirt both clean and whole. He blinks, puzzling it for a moment.

"Magic?" he mouths, curiosity and worry currently carrying the day in the heavy knit of his frown. Then, louder, he quickly adds, "I can set you up with one, no trouble," and tilts his head meaningfully.

"Okay," she answers with a nervous smile, following his lead. She has no idea where they even are, so. She'll have to find a map or something. At least if she gets lost on her own, she can just pretend to be a tourist.

"It's just a few spells," she adds awkwardly. Partly out of modesty, but mostly to obfuscate exactly what she's capable of. Especially as she isn't sure herself. It's not the same here. She's drawing on different energies, and she's not sure what kind of effect they will have on her. She'll need to be more cautious than usual.

He looks at her with rapt interest, already silently dissecting the mechanics of what happened. Excersio - Latin, obviously translating the meaning of repair to something very physical and applicable. Immediately the deduction spawns its own host of questions - are all spells Latin-based, what sort of energies are at work there, what sort of consequences would semantic alterations have down the road - but he clamps that thought down where it is, and simply nods.

"Best not to do it too visibly," he says, apology heavy in his voice. "Though, I dunno, I imagine a lot of people here are used to the weird and unexplainable. But the factions, erm, there are two of them: ROMAC, which is government-oriented and the Rebels who are...well, not - they generally keep an eye out for that sort of thing." His expression becomes slightly more strained. "Another reason I chose to fly under their collective radar."

Tara nods in understanding - her back had been towards the monument, and her hand covering the front, so the only way someone could've seen was if they were watching. And, well, the point was to become less noticeable. Surely if they're looking for that sort of thing, they would also notice someone with bloody bullet-holes as well?

"I think I'd like to too," she answers. "Avoid them, that is." They might not be as bad as they seem, but she'd like to know more before she goes running to them.

"Not a bad policy." He's biased, naturally, but erring on the side of caution is a favored course of action when one is kept confined to the city itself. "Bit harder to get by, but there are ways to get around that." Having a friend who's a literal archangel helps, as does having a friend who was able to get a very good apartment deal. He's a little more worried about finding her good housing, but at the very least he can nudge her enough for a hotel until they can work out something better.

He makes short work of purchasing her a network-accessible phone.

"Rifties only," he explains, handing it to her. "Not sure how far along you were, er - eleven years ago? I was pulled from 2005, so it wasn't that much more advanced than what I was used to."

It doesn't pass by Tara's notice that Daniel is paying actual money for that phone. She doesn't know how his finances are, but she'll have to figure out a way to pay him back.

"2002, yeah," she answers with a nod, clutching the phone with both hands. She'd managed to call from it, so she's sure she'll figure out what else it can do. "Our phones still have buttons," she adds with a small smile and a shrug.

"Yeah?" He'd have to confess he's never had to pay an undue amount of attention to Earth technology, and has only just begun to now. "Well, we're not too far apart. Time-wise, anyway." He's going to save the intergalactic archaeology discussion for later, so he simply indicates her phone with a dip of his head. "It's actually pretty user-friendly, just takes some getting used to."

He moves down the street at a meandering pace as he scrambles to put together his next order of business. Housing. Right.

"Housing's gonna be a little more difficult," he admits. "I've got a place I'll be moving into soon, but it took a while to scope out. In the meantime, hotels might be the safest bet if you wanna stay clear from the factions."

Tara nods and carefully tucks the phone into her pocket. The only other thing in there is a lip balm. As far as supplies for dimension-hopping goes, it's not much.

"Right," she answers slowly, falling silent as she contemplates this. Is he intending to pay for that too? She doesn't want to ask. She's not sure she would even feel comfortable accepting.

At least it's warm, so she wouldn't freeze to death or anything if she can't find somewhere. And maybe... if she finds somewhere that would be empty anyway? Unlocking doors isn't too difficult. Then there's still the matter of buying food. Perhaps she could convince someone into giving her a loan? That way she could pay it back and no harm would be done. She gnaws worriedly at her lip.

Tara fades into silence, and it doesn't take long to guess why.

"I'll cover it," he assures her gently. "Don't worry. Rifties, we - we kind of help each other out, especially if you're trying to stay away from the factions. The person who met me when I came through let me squat in her place until I could find someplace better. It's not a problem."

Tara looks up in surprise. The amount of kindness this man is exhibiting is really unexpected, particularly for someone who gets classified in her head as Adult. The only ones who could rival it in her experience would be Giles. And probably Joyce, but Tara never had time to get to know her too closely. (If you went by age, Anya and Spike would also both definitely qualify as adults, but not so much otherwise.)

"Are-- Are you sure?" she asks, a bit breathlessly. "I mean, I'll pay you back as soon as I can!" she quickly promises.

He lifts one shoulder in an unconcerned shrug. "It's all right. It's just - not really easy, getting transplanted to another universe, and it's good to start with a few resources." Daniel had been lucky enough to get a fair amount of guidance his first few days, despite the hiccups of getting off on the extremely wrong foot with Peter, then managing to piss off Satan - and in the same day, in less.

Thankfully, Tara doesn't strike him as someone who would do either of those things. She's been so unquestionably polite that he doubts Peter could form any misgivings about her, though given that it's Peter there's a high probability he'll just find reason to invent some.

He pulls out his own phone and texts the number of the phone he just bought.

"That's my number," he says. "In case you need anything. Even if it's just to talk."

Tara feels the phone vibrate in her pocket, and pulls it out just to check. For a few moments she just stares at it, feeling a bit overwhelmed with... well, everything. Considering the amount of distress she's experiencing, her gratitude towards Daniel is pretty intense. And then she almost walks into someone, so she quickly stuffs the phone back into her pocket and focuses on where she's going.

"I... Thank you," she says, trying to find a way to inject it with as much gratitude as she's feeling. "I mean, really. Thank you." She doubts she can actually stress it enough.

His distant, evaluative scan of their surroundings relaxes into another smile. She still seems pretty shaken if utterly sincere, but hopefully he's doing a decent job of helping her adjust. It's never easy.

"You're welcome." He starts fiddling with his phone, pulling up a map of nearby hotels. "Now let's see if we can find you someplace to stay."

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Strong like an Amazon [OPEN]

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