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Skrael squinted through the windstorm of dust, covering his mouth with the edge of his hood to filter the clogged air from those stupidly delicate human lungs he was stuck with.
“Bellroc!” he shouted into the open clearing.
He had to find them.
There- the swish of their feathers, just from the corner of his eye. Skrael whipped around, suddenly wishing he could still sense their heat. From the smoke and dust whirling through the air, he saw what looked like a burning coal, floating in the air, glowing brighter every second. Skrael squinted at it for a moment before-
Oh. Shit.
A fireball blasted through the air as he jerked back, barely avoiding it as it exploded past him. The smell of something plastic burning was coming from his jacket, and he yanked it off, tossing it to the dirt. He stomped on it until the drawstrings stopped smoking.
He looked up, and from the smoke, Bellroc stepped out, expression that of cold anger. They growled under their breath, and smoke billowed from between their curled lips. And despite everything, Skrael smiled.
“Bellroc!” he said, unable to contain his excitement at seeing them after what had felt like so long.
“Errand boy,” Bellroc sneered in return.
The pure disgust in their voice startled him, and he blinked, almost having forgot his situation. Fool, he scolded himself, they don't know it's you. Skrael rather suddenly realized that he needed to explain everything to them, and furthermore, have them believe him.
Given that he wouldn't have believed himself in this situation, Skrael realized that might be more difficult than he'd planned-
He didn't get to finish his thought before Bellroc strode forward and punched him squarely in the face.
In shock, Skrael fell flat on his ass. His hand flew up to his face, smarting and sure to bruise. Bellroc jabbed their staff at him, and he scrambled backwards, stumbling to his feet clumsily.
“Wait, Bellroc-” he managed, summoning the boy’s staff to deflect the swipe of the bladed end of their staff.
They brought the great rod of iron that was their staff down onto his own, and he yipped as his arms buckled under the pressure. He knew they were much stronger than him, even in his own body, but he was suddenly, acutely aware of it as they used all their force against him. He let the strike fall through with a tilt of his staff and darted behind them “I want to talk to you!” he shouted, taking quick steps backward, trying to put distance between them.
“Well I don't,” Bellroc snarled, whipping around after him, “I'd much rather scald the flesh off your bones!”
Skrael blinked.
A wave of fire filled his vision, and he only had an instant to uselessly raise the boy’s staff in defense. He flinched hard, eyes squeezing closed involuntarily. But nothing hurt, and after a moment passed, Skrael opened his eyes tentatively. A glowing blue shield had sprung from the gauntlet clamped onto his forearm, and for a split second, it cut through the flames roaring at him.
“Huh,” Skrael stared at the gauntlet as the barrage of fire flickered away to reveal Bellroc’s surprised expression behind the burning gem of their staff.
Perhaps Myrrdin was useful for something.
The shield turned off, and Bellroc shrugged, aiming their staff again. Skrael jumped out of the way of a fireball rather than testing the shield again. He didn’t trust Myrrdin that much.
He darted forward, deflecting and ducking under their strike they aimed at his head, and grabbed their wrist in two hands. The boy’s staff fell to the ground and Bellroc made a small surprised noise in their throat.
“Listen to m-”
Their hand struck across his face like a [].
Skrael [], . He stumbled back and without thinking, rather stupidly said, “Bellroc, it’s me.”
“And who else would you be, boy?” they sneered, disdainful.
Something warm trickled down the curve of Skrael’s brow, and he touched it unconsciously. Bright red, human, blood was smeared on his fingers. The initial shock of the strike was wearing off, leaving his face burning with a mix of pain and embarrassment. Three stinging lines across his face were warmer than the rest, dripping hot with mortal ichor.
Bellroc glanced at him, and carelessly wiped their bloody claws off on their pants.
“I- Skrael, Bellroc. I'm not Hiserdoux,” Skrael raised his chin sharply, staring Bellroc in their dear, familiar face, “It's me, Skrael.”
“What?” Bellroc snorted, and alright, that was fair.
“I wouldn't believe myself either,” Skrael admitted, raising his hands in placation, “Let me prove it, I…”
Skrael licked his lips awkwardly. He hadn't thought quite this far ahead and he didn’t quite have anything in the wings to prove his claim. He thought Bellroc looked more likely to believe him if he was saying he could turn into a bird by snapping his fingers.
“Did you hit your head on the way down from the Fortress? Which was our house by the way. You set off a massive explosion in our fucking house. We lived there.”
“Yeah, I know,” Skrael said, who had barely had time to think about the downing of the home he'd lived in since the search for Nari began, “And no, my head is perfectly fine.”
It was now, at least. The miracle of Nari.
“I'm aware I sound mad, but believe me, Bells I-”
“Firstly, you don't get to call me that.” Bellroc snarled sharply, but the tone of their next words was pleasant and conversational, if a bit forced, “But let's say I humor this. For entertainment’s sake. How should I be expected to believe you? You make an outrageous claim to be believed without any proof.”
Bellroc was looking at him like he was telling a very funny joke they already knew, and he was doing it badly. It was a look he didn't much enjoy being fixed with, no matter how much he'd giggled at others being under it before.
Skrael stared them in the face, and tried to make the boy’s face into an expression of [confidence].
“Ask me something only he would know, I’ll know it.”
There, now Bellroc had to come up with the questions.
It was a challenge, and one that boy would have to bluff terribly to make. But watching their expression closely, Skrael saw his unflinching confidence didn't track to what they must have expected.
Bellroc’s mouth twisted.
“Alright, boy. I'll play. When did I make the Fortress?”
“You’d been working on it for a century and a half, but it was all but done by Killahead.”
“What was Nari’s favorite rabbit’s name, and what did it look like?”
“Siam, and it was dark gray with little white patches. One black foot, I can't remember which exactly, but it was a hind leg.”
Bellroc’s brow creased.
“Skrael’s first embroidery project.”
“Eigh, that thing with the birds and the deer. I don't know why you keep it, the deers’ legs are lumpy and the trees are disproportionate.”
Normally Bellroc would respond, ‘It looks stylised! I like it, Skrael, and it was a gift, stop trying to get me to discard it.’ But the conversation continued.
Bellroc bit their lip and said, tersely, “What do Skrael’s favorite earrings look like?”
“Trick question!” Skrael grinned, “I never pierced my ears. But I know the wicker ones you’re wearing right now I haven’t seen in forever. You found them again, wherever they were?”
Bellroc stared at him. They didn’t look ready to laugh anymore.
“Tell me something about me only Skrael knows.”
“Where would I begin, darling?” Skrael swallowed, and stepped forward, taking their hands in his own. And in a language so ancient and dear that boy never could have known it, he said:
“Recognize me, Bells.”
And he could see they did.
END CHAPTER.
“How?” Bellroc whispered.
“Damned if I know,” Skrael said, and hugged them.
Bellroc hugged him back, a little tentatively.
“No, genuinely. What the fuck.”
They pulled him away by his shoulders, though it felt more like they were bracing themself on him rather than holding him still.
“Why are you in-”
Bellroc froze, with an expression of abject horror on their lovely face.
“I struck you.” they said, sounding faint.
“Oh, don't worry about it.”
“I struck you. Oh stars, I struck you twice!” they cried out.
“It's alright, Bellroc, it barely hurts-”
Their hand tentatively touched his face, and they wiped over the bridge of his nose with the warm pad of their thumb. It came away red.
“You’re bleeding,” Bellroc said, looking sickened.
“Hiserdoux Casperan is bleeding,” Skrael reasoned.
“You’re the one feeling it.”
“It looks worse than it is,” Skrael reassured, “You know how Nari always said, head wounds are like that.”
Bellroc did not look comforted.
“...You were saying?” Skrael said awkwardly, wanting Bellroc to stop looking at him like they'd killed a puppy.
They nodded, and continued, still sounding upset:
“What happened? Why are you inside him- don't make that face- I mean to say, why are you… in his body- fuck, I don't know how to say it without it sounding terrible. You know what I mean, Skrael.” Bellroc looked suddenly helpless. “...How long?”
Skrael sucked on his teeth. “Since the Fortress went down. I don't know how it happened exactly, but one moment I was fighting beside you, the explosion- and then I woke on the ground. As him.”
He didn't know why, but something made him hesitate to tell them about the fight in that strange copy of Myrrdin’s [study]. If what he thought had happened truly had… Bellroc couldn't know. Not until later, at least.
Perhaps never, an insidious voice coaxed within him. They would blame themself, he knew that. And neither of them could afford that sort of distraction right now. He'd think about it. Later.
Bellroc pressed their lips together.
“And… vice versa? He is the one piloting your body, acting as you?”
Skrael nodded.
“I must assume so, if it is true that my body has been… occupied and active.”
Bellroc let out a big shaky breath and visibly deflated.
“Oh, thank fuck.”
“What?”
Skrael stared in startled confusion, but Bellroc looked like the picture of absolute relief.
“You… understood me, right? Hiserdoux Casperan has been parading around in my body, doing stars knows what without us knowing- I wouldn't consider this a ‘thank fuck’ situation, Bells.”
“Skrael,” Bellroc said, grasping his hands firmly in their own, “That boy is a terrible actor. If I had any idea what was truly going on I would've known he was not you immediately. However, the idea of you being… replaced, with nothing changed except in the mind and spirit- Well, I would never have come up with it without this conversation! No sane person would, I'd argue…
“No, Skrael- with the way he was acting, I thought you had fucking brain damage.”
“Oh.”
Skrael couldn’t help it- he giggled.
Bellroc shook their silken head, red locks brushing their cheeks and Skrael’s heart ached with how badly he had missed them.
“This is all mad,” they laughed unbelievingly. “Utterly mad.”
“I know,” Skrael squeezed their hands, unused to the warmth building between their palms. “But we can fix it now, somehow. You know the truth now, that gives you the advantage.”
Bellroc's expression went cold.
“That boy masquerading as you- he’s disrespected us for the final time. Now that I can see through that pitiful front he puts up, I’m not worried about him. He won't be an active player in this any longer.”
Skrael nodded, “He’ll be trying to do the same as I have- if the Trollhunters know we'll lose our advantage.”
“Who should take care of him? Should we do it together?”
“I don't think he's found them yet,” Skrael eyed the smoke and dust around them- no sign of the Trollhunters or Douxie anywhere. “You need to retreat, try again when we have the advantage. I can engineer something again, I'll figure it out-”
Bellroc looked worried, brow furrowed under their blindfold. “You're certain they don't suspect anything? This isn't suspicious?”
“It'll be alright, Belliu,” Skrael said, smiling up at them in a way he hoped was reassuring, but truly, he didn't know how the boy’s face looked, “I'll tell them I fought you off- oh don't make that face, I won't make it sound easy- they haven't even seen you here-”
“Let go of him!” a high voice shouted, and Bellroc’s hands yanked out of his grip as they yelped. An instant later, the second shadow portal dropped them from the sky twenty feet away.
“Ow,” Bellroc said, from facedown in the dust.
Skrael recovered from the single, stupid, second of shock he'd frozen in and dropped into a fighting pose, snatching the boy’s staff from where they’d dropped it.
In the clearing dust, Claire stood, eyes glowing purple with power.
“We're here!” Toby yelled, clad in bronze and wielding a truly massive hammer of amber.
From behind him, Jim stepped out, hoisting a plainly borrowed sword, with teeth gritted, even in his lack of armor.
Damn it.
Skrael bit the inside of his cheek, and in the nick of time, pulled their pressed together lips into a crooked smile.
“About time!” he crowed, which seemed like enough of a smartass remark to be in character for Hiserdoux.
Bellroc was back on their feet, cocking their head at the children, staff held lightly in their offhand. Skrael met their gaze readily.
Change of plans. Time to put on a show.
When Skrael’s teeth flashed in the tiniest hint of a grin, Bellroc returned it readily, knowing only he would see their bared teeth as what they were; an invitation. Come dance.
Though the wave of blue magic Skrael sent at them wasn't his, the movement was oh so familiar. So many centuries of sparring together had left them knowing his movements nearly better than their own, and they knew he knew them just as well. They dodged it easily, feeling the air next to their shoulder ripple with power as it passed them by. Ducking his next strike, they crossed the distance between them in a few strides, bringing their blade down in one powerful swoop. It clashed onto the blue toned metal clutched in Skrael’s fingers, and from behind the scraping of their staffs, a familiar spark in those eyes, though they were housed in the wrong sockets, Bellroc would recognize that vicious, intelligent, spark of Skrael even in perfect darkness. They hissed fire in his face, just far enough to be harmless, all show and sparkle, and he rolled his eyes.
Of course, that was when they took a warhammer to the ribs.
The air was knocked from their lungs as they took an unexpected trip directly to the ground for the second time today.
They rolled out of the way of his second strike as it slammed into the dirt right next to them, and swept their leg out. The boy went down with a yelp, and they wrenched the battle hammer out of his hands as they stumbled up. Very nicely, they threw it as far as they could instead of putting it right through him, something that was assisted by it reverting into a compacted form once it left the boy’s hands.
“Crap!” the boy gasped as he struggled to stand in his clunky armor, reminding them vaguely of a pillbug stuck on its back.
Bellroc stepped back, and this time when they heard the sound of a shadow portal opening beneath their feet, they leapt out of the way.
“Is that your only trick?” they said disdainfully, easily dodging her next attack.
The girl growled, taking the bait, and disappeared into a shadow portal. An instant later, a crackling wave of magic blew past their side, actually making them jump. Skrael leveled the boy’s staff at them again, and mouthed one word; don't.
Bellroc grimaced, bracing themself.
Fine.
They took the next attack face on, blue magic slamming into them like the power of the tide, sending them flying backwards, head over heels. Dust kicked up onto their face as they tumbled across the clearing, until their back hit one of the boulders. They lay still, breathing heavily, and tried to assess the damage, only to find there was none. A few wisps of blue snuck away from them, and they realized most of Skrael’s attack had gone to the sides, only hitting them enough to make it look real. Clever, clever.
The girl lunged out of a shadow portal a few seconds too late, jabbing at empty air where they’d stood only a moment earlier. She whipped her head around, looking for them, and Bellroc had to suppress a snort. Almost, child.
The boy in bronze had managed to get up and was scrambling down the slope after his weapon, leaving the shadowmancer girl, the trollhunter, and Skrael.
They looked to him, and he gave the most minute shake of his head. Bellroc let out one little huff, disturbing the dust in front of their face, and obediently played dead.
“I'm gonna find Skrael,” Skrael said, turning back to them, “Can you handle them?”
“Yeah, we can deal with one evil wizard,” the trollhunter boy said casually, hoisting his sword, and oh, Bellroc was going to enjoy this.
Skrael trotted off, and over his shoulder shouted, “Be safe!”
Which translated to, don't kill them, Bellroc. They tried not to show their disappointment as they casually stood up, remembering halfway through; look pained. They pretended to wince as they straightened, several seconds too late. Well, it didn't truly matter. They'd give the children something better to remember- and maybe a head injury or two would get rid of the memory of their bad acting.
“Two on one?” they asked, stretching their arm out to summon their staff back to them, “And here I'd hoped for some excitement today.”
As they sent a wave of fire from their staff that scalded any hope of life from the dusty soil, they let themself grin, wide and sharp.
‘Don't kill them’ didn’t mean they couldn't have fun.
END CHAPTER
The Trollhunter boy was good, they had to admit. His strikes were fluid as he darted around them, trying to find a chink in their defense. He kept stumbling though, clearly accustomed to the greater reach and lighter weight of the Daylight blade. Bellroc wished they'd had the chance to fight with him when he was in his prime- it had been a long time since they'd sparred with anyone except for Skrael; leaving them in a distinctly lacking practice in the more… purely physical arts. The idea of Skrael trying to hoist a sword nearly made them laugh in the middle of a block.
The shadowmancer girl was a true bother though. They had to keep track of her leaping in and out of portals to strike at them, and avoid the portals she tried to open under them. She'd actually gotten a few solid hits on them, as they'd been dealing with the boy. They tried not to let it rankle, to little success.
Bellroc growled at the girl as she lunged at them, sidestepping into the trollhunter’s thrust. They deflected the blade heading for their side with their staff’s hilt at the last second, but it scraped across their hand holding it. They hissed in pain as a thin cut opened over their knuckles, but had to ignore it as they took two quick steps to the side so both children were in front of them. A thin hot trail of blood slipped down between their tightly clasped fingers.
The children were used to fighting in tandem, that they could tell. Bellroc couldn't properly concentrate on fighting one while the other interfered the instant they were about to gain the advantage. They needed to separate them.
The girl appeared behind them, shadow magic exploding from her palms. Bellroc whipped around, a half formed curse falling from their lips. The first blast from her closer hand missed them, but just barely- they ducked out of the way of her second attack and grabbed her wrist, and hauled her around to shove at the boy, who had just pointed his blade at them again. He yelped, stumbling out of the way and dropping the tip of his sword to the dirt to avoid stabbing her.
Bellroc threw out a wave of fire to separate them, leaving the boy and themself on the same side. They realized belatedly they probably should've broken the girl’s wrist while they had the chance.
The boy charged at them again, bringing his sword down in a wide slash. Bellroc huffed, countering it easily as they circled their staff in their hands. He kept going, moving in quick jabs and slashes, and Bellroc blocked and parried with equal speed. Sweat was springing up on the boy’s forehead, they saw, as he lunged forward with an upward strike they simply sidestepped. He was used to fighting trolls, to being the quick one in the fight, and while Bellroc wasn't as swift as their normal sparring partner- the North Wind himself- they were far more agile than some Gumm-Gumm shell.
Bellroc leapt back, out of his range, holding their staff out in one hand to point directly at the boy's chest.
“I truly would prefer not to kill you,” they said, baring their teeth in a forced semblance of a smile. The crystal of their staff started to glow in a wordless threat. “What do you think, call it a tie? Not to insult, but I have other things I rather urgently need to do.”
“As if. Worried you're gonna lose?” the boy said, which was petty.
“I suppose you've asked for this then,” Bellroc sighed, who'd truly hoped they could get out of this without probably maiming a teenager. Hopefully Skrael wouldn't be too annoyed at them.
The trollhunter jumped at them, suddenly startlingly close as he knocked their staff away with his free hand. In only one loosely held, injured hand, it clattered to the ground. Shit. He lunged with his sword hand plunging forward into their side. They stumbled out of the way, not before the blade slipped through the fabric of their belt, cutting a stinging line across their hip. Their legs tangled together, ungainly as a deer, and they hit the ground in a burst of dust. A sharp point forced their chin up, and they found themself looking up the length of a sword to the trollhunter’s face. He raised an eyebrow.
“Alright,” Bellroc said, embarrassed, “You can have that one.”
They scooted backwards, ignoring the protesting of their new wound, to paw for their staff behind them.
“Not happening,” the girl said from behind them.
She came around their side, staff in hand. Well, moreso dragging behind her.
“If you drag the blade on the ground like that you're going to dull it,” Bellroc said, just for the sake of being a dick.
“Not my fault you decided to get a staff that weighs like a hundred pounds!” She retorted, and tossed the staff to the dirt. The effect of this gesture was somewhat diminished by the fact that it was taller than she was, and looked more like it was throwing itself to the ground.
Bellroc quirked an eyebrow.
“Is it truly heavy, or can you just not wield it?”
“I've wielded more powerful staffs than yours.” The girl scoffed, fingers pointedly shimmering with purple power.
“Ah, but I don't think you truly have,” Bellroc leered, lips pulling back to expose their inhumanly sharp teeth. It has the desired effect; the children looked uncomfortable at the discordant effect between the oversized animal teeth and the softer human face. Skrael was the best at straddling the line of uncanny and divine, his face that of a black eyed corpse and a glittering child, but Bellroc knows their own features have a certain something.
“The Scathe-Hrun is an amplifier, a focus that enhances a user’s shadowmancy. Try to cast with my staff, child. It’s quite the opposite.”
The girl doesn't quite bite, but her lips press together as her magic probes theirs, and the both of the children glance at Bellroc’s staff.
It's not ego, well at least not undeserved ego that has them carrying a staff that dampers their power rather than amplifies it like foci traditionally do. The simple truth is, the power of all the flame in the world is a lot of power to funnel through a semi-mortal body. It’s like trying to fit a whitewater river through a pinprick in a clay wall. Something’s going to give. And they don’t exactly have Nari to fix their burnt out forearm if they accidentally let loose anymore.
But, if they're careful-
The air between the two children and them exploded into sparks, and Bellroc lunged. They snatched their staff off the ground, twirling it to slam the gem into the children’s shins. They both buckled at the knees, yelping. The boy recovered easier, turning on the injured knee to block their next downward lash. The girl was quickly swallowed by shadow as he strikes back with his own attack.
The fight snapped back into movement quickly, but Bellroc was still dusty from their stint on the ground, not to mention the sweat and blood making them feel tacky. They were ready to have this quite done.
As the boy Trollhunter bore down on them, blade pressing into the iron of their staff and sparking with a truly terrible sound of crh, crcch! they snarled, sensing the film of shadow magic that foretold an opening portal. They shouldered through the boy’s force, flipping his sword out of his hands with a rounding motion of their staff and striking him across the face with the scalding crystal on its end. Rounding, they punched a fireball directly into the dark sliver of the portal. The girl cried out, and the crack to the Shadow Realm closed back up like a hungry mouth.
Bellroc was breathing hard, and they had a suspicion their feathers were stuck up in a manner Nari had always compared to a porcupine. Their ribs felt… bad. They couldn't tell quite if anything had been seriously damaged by the boy with the warhammer, but every breath sent a bright zing of pain through their torso. Their wounds were stinging, and every time they turned, the one on their hip opened up and bled. They raked a hand through their hair, and winced immediately, realizing their sweaty bangs were now likely standing straight out. Unfortunately there was no time to rectify this, as the Trollhunter was coming at them again.
He'd retrieved his sword and was hauling it at them. They sidestepped and let his unsteady momentum get the better of him as they stuck a leg out to trip him again. He went down face first and they didn't bother trying not to snort.
“If you're going to try and fight me you could bother to stay on your feet,” Bellroc said, unable to resist an easy joke, even for all their pained tiredness, “it's a little rude, I feel like I'm putting in all the effort her-”
He aimed a rather nasty kick at their groin. Luckily, made skittish by the girl’s attacks from below, they flinched hard and took it to the upper thigh instead. It still hurt like a bitch, from his shoe jabbing the sharp wood of their belt decor into their leg. They swore vehemently, then immediately said:
“Shit, don't tell Nari I said that in front of a kid.”
“You'll try and kill me but you draw the line at swearing? Also you just swore again.”
“I'm not killing you, that's excessive. Don't tell her about that either.”
“Put the staff down and it's a deal.”
“Ha! No.”
The boy tucked his legs under him and jumped up, only stumbling back for a step.
“Worth a try,” he shrugged, gamely raising his sword at them.
***
“Uh, Bellroc, what're you- ngh!”
Bellroc hauled Hiserdoux forward, sending him falling to the ground of the cell with the force of their movement. The door slammed shut an instant later, with a loud clang.
“I know,” they hissed, struggling to contain their anger.
“What?” the boy looked frozen to the floor, eyes wide and terrified like those of a captured animal. That expression on Skrael’s face made them want to burn down the world, even though it wasn't him. That knowledge helped the instinctive stab of guilt in their chest, but not much.
“I know it's you, you deceiving little rat,” Bellroc snarled, “You won't fool me any longer, errand boy.”
Hiserdoux [fear.jpg]
“I-”
“If you dare speak another word with his voice I will find every person you've ever loved and rip out their vocal cords to strangle you with them,” Bellroc hissed in a rush of words, barely able to breathe through the urge to take out their fury on the foolish mortal before them.
The boy shut up. Bellroc’s hands were close to shaking so they clutched the rough metal bars so tightly their fingers hurt, heat billowing from them in waves. They crouched down to stare at the boy in the eye, and leaned as far forward as they could.
“The only reason you still live,” Bellroc said, in a furious whisper, “is because you are a [parasite] in Skrael’s body and I cannot hurt you without hurting him, but be assured, the instant we rectify this, I will make you suffer so terribly you will beg for me to kill you.”
The metal under their hands had started to glow a scalding orange, illuminating the dark corners of the cell.
Hiserdoux flattened against the back wall of the cell, as far as he could get from their heat. His wide eyes suddenly flicked to their hand, and impossibly, stretched wider in an expression of horror.
Bellroc glanced at their hand, and saw that it was the one they’d touched Skrael’s face with. Bright red, mortal blood was dried in the creases of their knuckles, and smeared under their nails. They reached that arm in between the bars and wiggled their bloody fingers teasingly.
“Guess.” they hissed, for no other reason than that they felt terrifically nasty. “Guess which one it is.”
“No-” he said in a strangled gasp.
Bellroc got up and looked at him. Then they turned and simply walked away, dragging a hand on the wall. The room plunged into darkness with a motion of their fist, and they heard the boy shout something as they closed the door behind them. It could have been a plea, or a threat, or anything in between, but they didn't care enough to listen.