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Futuristic Eradication

Xavier just stood there at the edge of the crowd, unsure of what to do. He had been in this very building six times before, and he had gotten away every single time without any worry. And now on his seventh try, he was finally given a match. Genetic perfection did not recognize seven as a lucky number it seemed. He looked over the crowed as his collar beeped with a slow but steady pace, unsure of what to do at this point. He looked over at the door and the two armed guards, if he were to break into a sprint, he could probably get by the guards before they had a chance to react, but he would never make it out of the building before he got several bullets in his back.


The only thing he could do at the moment was to take a second and observe the crowd. There were a few people who actually seemed excited by the idea of finding their perfect mate, mostly the high class individuals, they were probably raised on fairy tails and were waiting on their prince or princess. Xavier took those stories for what they were, and he knew that there was no such thing as "the one" if they were to be selected based on a mathematical formula.


He gathered his composure, took a deep breath, and walked into the crowd. The beeps from his collar, weren't increasing but they weren't decreasing either, which probably meant that the other was walking around the crowd as well. If he was smart he would just stand still and wait for her to come to him, but Xavier wasn't known for taking the obvious choices in his life. He noticed several others people more or less around his age, some obviously just as excited as he was and yet there were a few who seemed to actually want to be there. Those were the ones who confused Xavier the most. At least the others knew that there was no real purpose to this situation other than complete government control over their lives. One man in particular kept looking over his watch as if he was incredibly late to some kind of appointment.


Suddenly his collar started picking up it's tempo, he was getting closer. Personally, Xavier hated this system with an absolute passion. Why go through this pointless game? Why not just announce the pairings and get it over with quickly? Was it fun for them? To watch the people squirm around trying to find the cheese in the maze? It really didn't matter at this point, Xavier didn't have a choice, he needed to find this person, sooner rather than later.
 
@SkyFilms


"I think I would like that very much, Levi Rose." It was strange, not being able to see his face. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, how he was feeling-it was all concealed behind hard grey and reflecting glass. Was he disappointed in his match? She would like to think he wasn't, based on the offer he just made her, but he seemed somehow...withdrawn.


Perhaps it was just the atmosphere. Something to ponder at a later date- for now (As much as she liked the white suit-It certainly suited the man standing across from her) she wanted out of the conformity. Too many people all doing the same thing. Not enough space to roam and explore. It wasn't often she was allowed out of her own residence after all and now was the opportune time to look around; she could hardly do that from in here.


"What say we get out of here? With the passing of time any indecision becomes decision. I would rather not choose to do nothing-look I think the registration is happening over here." Aislyn turned, throwing one last (what she hoped was) encouraging glance over her shoulder, before pushing her way through the thankfully much diminished-but still crowded building. At the very least her small stature was a help here, allowing her to slip between people quickly without having to give too many apologies.
 
@kitsunemage


Levi smiled at the use of his whole name, it had been a while since anyone had truly spoken to him other then the muttering of a thank you or an apology. But nothing that truly turned into a conversation, and actually speaking to someone felt great, like his dying flame had been re-lit. Lifting a hand he readjusted the bottom of his mask casually before nodding in agreement with the girl. When the words became scarce and they stood still for a moment he eyed the girl. She didn't seem fit for those type of clothes, he imagined her in a much brighter attire that would cause her to stand out in a crowd like this unlike himself.


"Alright," he agreed rather bluntly unknowing of what else to say to feed into their conversation.


"So Ms.-" he cut himself off quickly before he could continue biting his lower lip harshly before back tracking,


"So Aislyn, do you have an idea of a place we could go after this?" He questioned to the women as he evaded other couples, weaving through the lessening crowd until he was met with the girl once more on the other side.


Levi's gaze falling back onto her collar which wore the bright royal blue that stated her part in Upper Class, as his was red. Seeing as she didn't really stare at it, or look disturbed by the sight it relieved him that it seemed as if she didn't mind his lower class.
 
@SkyFilms


"None whatsoever! But isn't that the excitement of it? Who knows where we'll end up." Which was exactly what she had planned. She squeezed through the last of the people waiting in a general throng around the reception area, a few couples were at various desks scattered throughout the area but the general opinion seemed to be putting off the next step for as long as possible. She couldn't understand why so many people were so reluctant to meet their matches. It was scientific, and while sometimes things took a little trial and error, the love harvest had been going on for years! It had produced so many perfect couples, surely they had to have it down by now.


Practice makes perfect, wasn't that the saying?


Making a beeline to the first available desk (She wasn't going to wait around any longer, that was for sure) She smiled charmingly at the receptionist, a darling older lady in the same sterile white theme that persisted throughout the love harvest.


"Aislyn Whitman, Sector E, Upper class. Here with Mr. Levi Rose, Sector... that would be C wouldn't it?" Aislyn tilted her head to glance over her shoulder- glad that her ghostly follower had managed to keep up through the crowds. An action that, combined with the haphazard placement of the necklace threaded throughout her hair, caused the golden locks to come tumbling free of their restraint. Her hands snapped back to stop the falling curls, barely catching the cascade of red before it could escape her hair.


"Oh balls."
 
Vincent waited idly as the registration process continued. He was using whatever knowledge of physics he had to figure out a way to jump out this window without breaking his neck. No matter how much he wanted to escape, he wasn't suicidal.


As he went over the calculations he made in his head, Vincent was interrupted by the sound of Emilia's voice. Looking at her face, he cringed a bit at her current beaming expression. 'Why is she so happy? Do all people from the Upper Class act like this?' Those with a higher social status had enough reason to be happy all the time. Growing up in a Lower Class sector, Vincent didn't exactly see a lot of smiles.


'A beautiful name? What's she talking about?' The thought of someone calling his name of all things beautiful was just odd. The last thing that came to his mind when thinking about his name would have been that it was beautiful. He hadn't wanted to know it in the first place.


Wrapped up in his thoughts about how strange this girl was, he forgot about the registration process. Time felt as if it was going by quickly. Before he knew it, it was over.


"Alright, you both can go." Those words were enough to bring Vincent back to reality. That was it? Just like that, he was married? He was now bound to some stranger for the rest of his life? Before, time was going by far too fast, but now, everything seemed to stop.


The sound of releasing pressure soon caught his ears. The collar that had been restricting him this entire time started to loosen, relieving the pain in his neck. Almost immediately he ripped the thing off and practically slammed it into the pile that held the rest.


Rubbing the place where the device had been, Vincent felt as if it was still there. The collar may have been removed, but its influence remained. Simply having it removed didn't mean he was free. Right now, he was just a dog that had been allowed to roam the yard, being supervised all the while.


While he continued to rub his neck, Vincent was unaware that Emilia had positioned herself next to him. When he had realized, it was unpleasant for multiple reasons. For one, he didn't enjoy being so close to some stranger, even though she was technically his wife now. Secondly, she was still taller than him! The difference in height made him remember Colt's comment from this morning, only making him angrier.


Once again, Emilia had confused him. 'Hi? I'm pretty sure it's too late for introductions!' This girl was just weird on all accounts.


Normally, he would've left by now. The collar was off and he didn't need to be here anymore. However, the guards may not take well to a pair of newlyweds splitting so soon. If he left, he would be brought back in a body bag. Leaving her alone would just be too troublesome. Then again, being with her was troublesome.


Feeling a migraine approaching after trying to making a decision with two horrible choices, Vincent began walking towards the door. As he looked out the window, he was greeted with the sight of guards that had been appointed for the Love Harvest. Leaving alone was definitely not an option.


Turning his head to look behind him, Vincent called out to Emilia. "Are you coming or what?" This day just kept getting worse.


@Darth Pai
 
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Skye Yoona Park


Her day began with a morning like any either- silent. In the months immediately after James's death she had sought a way to disrupt the silence with music. All genres were attempted, yet silence permeated past the rhythmic sounds and soulful crooning. In the brief dream that was her marriage there was laughter, clanging of pots and pans, insistent alarms, and other sounds of life. She could feel a presence and hear soft breathing if she stayed still, basking in the knowledge she was no longer alone. Solitude brought an echoing, consuming, muting quality that Skye never knew existed before her first Love Harvest.


As sun poured in the window she opened her eyes and glanced at the empty pillow immediately beside her. His half of the bed remained undisturbed. Even during evenings filled with nightmares she never strayed past the unmarked center line. It was a little silly to preserve something that only reminded her of her loss. For days she had wept every time she gazed at it and remembered his mischievous smile beaming over the linens, the passion when they finally consummated their marriage, his bashful confession about a girl he liked in high school, and the way that he always fell asleep with one hand pressed flat upon the mattress as if steadying himself in slumber. They urged her to change as much as possible, to move, to think of what he would want for her.


Slowly exhaling she rose in the bleached white sheets, studying the play of light on the creases and rumples. James would have wanted her to persevere past his death. Skye reasoned she owed it to the society that allowed them to meet and the man that had so briefly illuminated her life to go to the Love Harvest yet again this year. She was always dutiful in her attendance and slightly anxious about the outcome. The last two years had yielded no results. The romantic told her that James was her soul mate and could not be replaced, yet pragmatism said that she had a duty to reproduce and genetically there was someone compatible. Did the program take into account her psychological state? How long did it account for grieving before it thrust two individuals together in union? The hue of the cloth surrounding her was as pristine as freshly fallen snow; it was easily stained and marred. A blemish here and there- of sweat, of grime tracked in the house, of sticky food on her fingers- was proof of the days after James and before today. It was a ritual to scrub them out and create them many times over- a bizarre verification for a quiet existence. They were her ripples in a distant, lost pond.


Her footsteps were nearly inaudible as she moved to the shower, the sink, her closet, and the kitchen as she readied herself for the event. Her hair was blown dry, her bangs trimmed with a discerning eye, and the tresses left to hang loose. Unlike the freshly minted adults attending their first ceremony, she knew it was irrelevant what garments she adorned herself with today. She selected a mundane pair of slacks, a fitted blouse in saturated indigo, and slightly impractical heels. As she exited the apartment she took one last long look down the foyer and hall. James's voice laughed and urged her to go, his phantom assuring her that he would be fine. A breeze kissed her cheek and her lashes fluttered close as she reigned in the heartache that always followed. If today brought a match she might be forced out of this place and into a new one. The Love Harvest could coerce Skye to truly move on.


With a trembling sigh she locked the door and hurried to her car.


----


Skye had no illusions about herself and the Love Harvest. She watched as others protested the white suits of conformity. Mostly young women who were still striving to establish themselves as individuals, feeling the need to display their 'uniqueness' with their appearance. A few 'rebelled' by making minute changes to their hairstyle (after first glancing around to see how different it would be) and looked pleased with themselves. The widow just shook her head and smiled. It was a sea of human beings trying so incredibly hard to set themselves apart that they failed to see the bigger picture. Humanity was being relentlessly assaulted by a foe that cared not for their wealth, their power, their prestige, their funny quirks, their polite conversation, or virtue. It was a great equalizer Skye had been oblivious to at her first gathering. Arrogantly she believed she was making a mark on history by having an elaborate up-do for her husband, that money would protect her from disease, that illness would always strike that other person over there. Youth. When the virus struck it didn't stop to consider that James was loved, wealthy, childless, humble, intelligent, brave, handsome... he was just flesh.


It was useless to try. Matches would be made and first impressions, while long lasting, would not endure into a true relationship for long. It was the conversations, decisions, and actions that immediately followed that meeting that would stretch endlessly into memory. Skye quickly dressed into her white suit and snapped on the collar, efficiently and expediently making her way to the appropriate line. This had been performed often enough that she was complacent and soothed by the uniformity. For these few, precious moments it was simply humanity standing here, shivering in the cold of a planet nearly barren of their kind, being drawn together for the sole purpose of eluding extinction. Methodology could be argued but it was sobering to see everyone struggling and aligned on the same quest.


As Skye's thoughts traversed down a philosophical road, she was snapped out of her reverie by movement. She was ushered forward and was dutiful and obedient. With little expectation she strode forward with confidence and purpose, though not excess. Devoid of drama and theatrics, she patiently waited to see if her collar would react to one of the many males that clashed with the surge of females. What would happen would happen and there was little to be done. On one hand, she was hopeful that she would have another chance at living beyond keeping up appearances, that she would find a companion that would offer her partnership. Romantic love would be nice, but lightning was not likely to strike twice. So long as he was a decent person she could find merit in a joining. On the other hand, it was terrifying to contemplate the vulnerability that came with being in such physical proximity for so long. Would he be abusive with words and feelings? Would he demand her affections and force down the walls she had carefully constructed to avoid further inner destruction?


No. Skye had already endured the worst scenario. She had given herself wholly to a man who genuinely loved her, and she him, and she had lost him after four short months of adoration and without a child. She could endure anything that the world threw at her now. Armored with resolve she pressed through the throng of people with conviction.


Her collar beeped.


@Hanzax
 
Oscar Dermott sighed as he heard the defeated tone of the prisoner. He knew he was supposed to hate the man, but all he could do was pity him. Nowadays everyone was doing what they thought was right, what would get them through the day and allow them to sleep at night. Oscar looked the prisoner over, he was bloodied and bruised, even missing a few chunks in some places, but there was a certain pride in his eyes.


"Any messages you want me to take to family or friends?" Oscar asked, fully aware that he may be transporting information for whatever rebellion was going on. Oscar didn't care, this was a dying man, and if he had any family left, there was probably some words left unsaid. While waiting for an answer, Oscar linked cuffs on the man, and began escorting him to the last room that the prisoner would ever see. "I wish there was some way to make this easier on you, but from the look in your eye, you're already checked out." Oscar commented as they navigated the winding halls designed specifically so that prisoners would not escape.


Oscar shut up as another guard passed and socked the prisoner in the gut, then kept walking like nothing happened. Once the other guard was out of earshot, Oscar turned to the prisoner and said "You okay? I don't really see the point of the others doing stuff like that, but I seem to be the only person in the world who's not a fan of unprovoked violence. I say unprovoked because I want to be perfectly clear that if you try anything I will not hesitate to jam a bullet through your eye socket, but as long as you stay civil, I will mirror you." Oscar spoke with a slight southern drawl that he inherited from his mother, but also a slight highland lilt from his father's influence, and the odd combination made his sweet words sound sweeter, and his threats more deliberate, adding in the com effect from his helmet made for a mysterious voice, indeed.


Returning to their journey to the eradication room, Oscar identified himself to the guard outside the door and led the prisoner inside, handing him off to the executioner like a cow to a slaughterhouse. He left the room, but decided to stick around in the observation room with a couple of the more sadistic guards that signed up to monitor all eradications. He had no idea why he wanted to see this, he just saw something in this prisoner that seemed... different, somehow, like he actually meant something.


@Ayl
 
Takeshi's collar began to rattle and hum, the beeping quickening to a steady whine. The device's temperature fluctuated between sauna-hot and winter morning frost, it's internal settings seemingly going haywire. Then, he felt a tap on his shoulder and it all stopped. The collar's dull red transformed into a deep scarlet color and a long ping echoed, seemingly throughout the hall.


Before he looked over his shoulder, he imagined how she would be.


Was she plain and well-mannered? The model housewife? The kind of woman that took off your coat as you came home from work, hung it on the coat rack by the door, and ushered you into your place at the foot of table for some nutritious enhanced meatloaf dinner? This Levittown cliché made him groan.


Was she the petite mother-type? The kind of woman who baked everyday, improving her blueberry cobbler, showcasing her macaroon skills, overall honing her culinary abilities, just for the fun of it? Flour on her nose, cute as a button. She would be sweet. Sickeningly sweet.


Was she the strict, iron-fist commander? Yelling orders, her blood mixing with sweat you couldn't tell the difference, shooting large hungry machine guns, the type where another person fed it a belt of ammunition? Whose passionate leadership on the battlefield paralleled her fiery libido in the evening? The thought was amusing.


Enough of such odd fantasies. Takeshi turned around. Not quickly. Not slowly. He turned and came face to face with her. His partner had found him first.


The first thing he noticed about her was her eyes. Deep amber, like hardened ancient sap of a Methuselah maple, fashioned into irises. Next, was her chest because Takeshi was a functioning, normal man and lastly, was her collar, which glowed green.


Middle class?


She was almost his height, a feature that Takeshi found surprising. Equally interesting to him, was her skin color: smooth and bronzed. What type of lineage could they share together? She was different, but she was pretty. Her eyes fit her round face and her lips, though thin, Takeshi could imagine where her smile would be.


Their collars had sung together, a single-noted song that seemed to separate him from the rest of the world. Here she was. His future mate. What was she like? What was her profession? What was her name? Thoughts flooded him and filled him to the brim with curiosity.


Takeshi opened his mouth and managed to produce a couple words,


"Hey, the name's Takeshi."


The man searched her eyes and extended his hand, hoping she understood him. What if she preferred a different language? The question plagued him as he waited for her reply.


@Agent Nine
 
Hans Grøngaard @Syrenrei


Hans awoke, not in need of any hurry, for today wasn't a day for duties, trust and friends to live up to. He ground the sleep out of his eyes as he flipped his duvet off of himself, the dust shining and dancing around in the small gap between the two curtains adorned infront of his window. His body chilled by the cool air outside the comfort of his bed, he landed his feet firmly on the ground and roughly ran his hands over his head and stared into the floor.


Today, January 1st, exactly 5 years after meeting Fredericia. The event was the most certain one of the blandest and distasteful occurences he had ever been apart of. It, however, was a day that brought him happiness like no other for 4 years of his live. Her, by his side, taking his mind off his duties, supporting him and not asking for anything back. A tear rolled down his nose and dripped off the tip, falling perfectly inbetween his feet. Hans stood up and walked out into the bathroom and washed his face, flushing away his grief along with it. Mourning her death wouldn't bring her back, there is nothing one can do but to live on and find joy somewhere else. Hans being is such a state of peril is most likely the last thing Fredericia could of wanted for him.


Having shaved his stubbly beard off, leaving his face smooth and letting himself enjoy the rapid pitter-pattering of the water droplets crashing down ontop returned to his sleeping quarters. Flicking the duvet up and sending a wave throughout the large blanket raised the dust before coming to rest ontop of their respective quadrents of duvet. Getting dressed wasn't something of much meaning for the Love Harvest, everyone was handed a white suit that was identicle to everyone elses. This however didn't stop Hans from dressing for the occasion. Events weren't something of a repetitive nature in Hans' life so he therefor always put much thought and effort into his appearance. Clothing himself with a red dress shirt and black jeans to match the dark pattern that swirled around the shirt in an unpredictable manner.


Stretching his muscles and cracking his neck, giving of a satisfactory klang, he sprayed on some cologne that he was gifted for his first Love Harvest. He toasted some bread spread the butter across the surface, glowing and glistening as it melted into small holes. Pocketing his keys, wallet, phone and folding hunting knife he headed outside, locked the doors an sat himself down into his car. It was a manual, not something seen all too often these days, the motored purred as he twisted the key in the ignition and he was officialy on his way to the Love Harvest-


-----


It was just as how he remembered it from last time, everyone neatly organised into rows, defining both class and name. The collor around their necks was the only difference from person to person. Standing in line was a form of meditation for Hans, ones only objective is the wait and tread forward when asked. Although the Love Harvest is supposed to be a major event in anybodies life, Hans saw it as just another order one had to follow. Meeting someone who you could potentially fall in love with was just a nice side effect.


As the line slowly moved forward, watching the the youngers chatter amoungst themselves as their nerves and worries were being strained the lack of individuality between them. How were they supposed to show off their good side when they're put into a scenario out of their control? Hans couldn't blame them, he too was on edge for his first Love Harvest, but only because he was afraid he'd disappoint his partner.


The time had come, he was urged forward by the personel and he listened to their command out of instint. Before he realised it he was in the middle of the miss-mash of genders. Walking around the ocean of white he was surrounded in wasn't pleasent, everyone besides him seemed to be in a rush and quickly pushed past eachother to find their match. Finding a partner in this mess was all about patience. Hans decided that the best plan was to stand still, his partner would be looking for him so she wouldn't have a chance to miss him if he just stayed where he were.


Placing his hands on the back of his head, he waited. The flow of white ran back and forth infront of himself as it reflected the sunlight off it's synthetic structure. His enjoyment of the lightshow was broken as his collor alerted with a loud beep. Awakened by the noise he quickly took some steps forward, increasing the frequncy of the beeping. As the beeping climaxed. The crowd infront of him spread apart and a woman not much shorter than himself appeared amongt all the white. She had brown hair and from the shape of her eyes seemed to be of asian descent.


"Uhh... Good day." He said with a smile on his face and brought his right hand down gesturing a handshake as he scratched the back of his head. "I'm Hans Grøngaard, nice to meet ya'." He said trying to not sound like a some complete tw**.


(Hope it's up to par :) )
 

Takeshi?


The young man in front of her had turned, finally, after a few seconds that seemed to lengthen into hours, while Novi's arms had retreated back to her chest.


His height was the first thing to catch her eye; sure, he only surpassed her by a few inches, but to her it made all the difference. In the back of her mind she'd kind of been hoping against hope that the guy wouldn't be shorter than her. After all, what was more awkward then being taller than a guy? Funny, sure, but it was still awkward. The same went for him possibly towering over her, which she didn't see as likely, but still. There needed to be a nice balance between heights.


And his eyes were...black, oddly enough. Like ink. Though it was interesting.


Red collar. What was red, again? Lower Class? Huh. Unexpected, but she didn't really care. Weird, how red was always a color that people associated with negative things...and the lowest class was set out to be the "worst" in the eyes of society, so...it made sense but it didn't.


Continuing to trail her undeniably-curious eyes up and down his form, Novi couldn't help but notice how fit he was. ...Really fit. The near-blinding whiteness of the suit did its best to hide those muscles, and the clothing in general seemed at least a size too big for him, but she got the distinct impression that she was in the presence of a well-conditioned guy. No grossly-bulging muscles, no boney limbs...no facial hair, either, which was a strange turn-off of Novi's. Beards always bothered her, even if she didn't know the person personally.


Balance, balance, balance. The guy was all about balance. Apparently, the supercomputer had seen that balance and decided that she was the best to go with it. Standing where she was, staring at him with a curious expression on her face, Novi felt...pretty relieved.


Relieved? Right, relieved. That was the feeling there. Relieved and maybe the tiniest bit impressed.


Arms still crossed, she let her eyes drift down to his now outstretched hand as he introduced himself. Takeshi, huh? ...Nice name. A mouthful, but eh.


Staring at his hand, her mind full of things, Novi seemed to forget all about the unspoken cue of introductions. He had said his own name, now it was her turn, right? That was what you were supposed to do when people introduced themselves. Manners and all that jazz.


A bit awkwardly, Novi took Takeshi's hand and gave it a slow shake. "Novi," She replied, sounding uncertain and looking even more so as she willed her eyes to meet his. Then she let it go and brought her hand back, letting her arms hang limply at her sides.


...Well. Now what?


"So...Takeshi. What is that, Japanese? It sounds Japanese," Novi commented, blinking at him. When all else failed, small talk, right?

​
 
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@X07


Sandra finally managed to get her nerves back under control though whether this was due to her will or the thinning crowds not even she could say. As she looked around to take note of the thinning herd she began to detect a rather annoying noise. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from her shock collar.


"Oh dear... This is bad. Really bad." She began to have a minor nervous breakdown that only consists of increased sweat production and her almost chewing on her nails. The only thing that prevented the later was her fear of whatever might have gotten under her nails since she had left her house. As she continued to fret and attempt to keep herself at least seemingly sane she failed to notice the approach of a male somewhere near her own age.


"Must remember to clean everything thrice later. Yes, think calm thoughts. Boiling the sheets, vacuum sealed food, ... " She continues to list things out loud that help calm her down.
 
Watching Vincent curiously as if he was a new specimen in her eyes, Emilia found herself finding Vincent's reaction to the collar rather amusing. He seemed to be a very "passionate" person and when Vincent had placed the collar down oh so carefully, Emilia had bent down to pick up a few stray trackers that had fallen on the ground.


Was it clumsiness or laziness that caused Vincent's sudden force on the pile of trackers that made a few of the devices to fall on the marble ground? Vincent didn't strike Emilia as clumsy or lazy. Then again, Emilia knew that it was irritation. The collars were quite annoying after all but Emilia couldn't help but wonder if Vincent was upset about something else?


Flashing the workers behind the counter another quick smile, Emilia gently placed the collars in the next metal crate that wasn't as full as the one it had fallen from. Glancing down at the Love Harvest trackers, Emilia pursed her lips together at the sight of the deactivated devices.


There were no longer signs of the glowing dot in the collar that identified each of the different classes in the Community.


When Emilia had gotten back up, she glanced over at Vincent, who was rubbing the area of his neck where the government provided device had once been and staring out the glass doors of the building. Emilia found herself simply standing where she was like an utter idiot, her gaze resting on the second glass double door on the right.


Emilia's attention was brought back to Vincent when he suddenly turned around and called out to her. "Are you coming or what?" He looked rather ticked off but Emilia deemed that Vincent simply wasn't the most patient person in the world. That wasn't a bad thing.


Blinking a few times to process the words in her head, a smile stretched across Emilia's face as she nodded and hurried off to catch up with Vincent.


The two made their way towards the doors, Emilia did her best to speed up her rather slow and casual pace. However when they got to the door, Emilia stood in front of it, not bothering to reach for the handle since she was so used to automatic doors or people to open the door for her. After a moment or so, Emilia realized just exactly what she was doing and tried to fight the dusting of the soft red across her cheeks.


Reaching for the door handle herself, Emilia took the curved handle in her hand and push it forward. Finding herself fighting against an unknown force, Emilia let out a little gasp as she took a step back and let go of the door handle. Staring at the door handle, Emilia's attention was quickly stolen by the words printed in capital letters. It said, "PULL".


Oh, how embarrassing. Emilia took ahold of the door handle once more and pulled it as instructed.


As they walked out of the building, Emilia took in the fresh air of the outside with a deep inhale through her nose and exhale out her mouth. Not that the building was extremely stuffy, well, except at first, once people started clearing up, it was easier to breath.


They quickly and quietly made their way past the guards, neither of them seemed to want to cause any trouble. Emilia quickly identified her chauffeur and hurried towards her. Assuming that Vincent would need a ride, Emilia smiled at the chauffeur and then turned around to look at Vincent.


@Lucem Tenebris
 
Vincent released a sigh after the girl had finally made her way over. Once again, she was smiling. He began to wonder if her lips could even turn into a frown. Based on everything he'd seen today, that happy expression might as well be glued to her face.


When she made her way over, Vincent raised a brow when he made no move to open the door. Was she expecting him to do it for her? That seemed likely. 'Looks like kids in the Upper Class aren't used to doing things for themselves.'


Vincent sighed once more when she finally made a move for the handle. She may not have taken very long, but today's events had made his patience wear thin. Based on what Emilia did next, it was about to get a lot thinner.


He resisted the urge to smack himself in the face when she began to try to push the door open. The door had clearly said it was meant to be pulled, but apparently she hadn't noticed. 'What are they teaching people in the Upoer Class!? With all that money, I'm sure that they would learn how to read!' It may have been a bit a bit of an overreaction, but he didn't really care. His patience was only getting thinner.


When she finally opened the door, Vincent quickly did the same. Walking outside, Vincent had to shield his eyes from the sun. Being inside that building for so long had made him forget about the outdoors and he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the new lighting.


Walking passed the guards, Vincent eyes took on a glare. The mere sight of them made him him angry. He had hated the government and military for as long as he could remember, which was something that would never change Of course, he would never do anything about his feelings of hatred. The thought of eradication was the one thing that held him back from venting his emotions in a physical way. So for now, he would settle with just a look.


When they were finally far away enough from the guards, Vincent turned his attention towards Emilia. The sight of her waiting expectedly for him made a grimace appear on his face. There was no way he was leaving with her.


Looking behind himself to make sure no guards were in sight, Vincent was relieved to see nobody there. Quickly turning in the opposite direction, Vincent began to run. He was finally in the clear and nobody was there to stop him from getting away.


Despite having run so much earlier, Vincent kept a fast pace. He didn't want to take the chance of Emilia catching up with him in the event that she chose to follow. Then again, she would be pretty foolish if she did. He was part of the Lower Class, which was no place for someone of her upbringing.


----------


After running for so long, Vincent had finally made it back to the gym. Seeing no sign of any pursuers, Vincent opened the door and walked inside. If he were lucky, Colt wouldn't be here right now and he could leave after changing out of the ridiculous outfit he had been wearing for what seemed like hours. Of course, Vincent was never lucky.


When the door had slammed shut, Vincent could here the clanking of weights in the back. "That you, Vince?" The voice was followed by the familiar hulking man walking to the front of the room in all his muscular glory.


When Colt's eyes landed on Vincent, he became displeased upon noticing that he was alone. "So, where's the wife? Did you leave her already?"


Rather than admit that the man's guess was right, Vincent brushed him off and began to walk towards the back of the gym. "I didn't get matched up with anyone. Drop the questions, alright?"


Following after Vincent, Colt grabbed the back of his shirt to prevent him from moving any further. "Liar! You're going back right now before you have the military breaking down my door!" The man obviously wasn't happy that he had just been lied to.


Trying and failing to break Colt's grip, Vincent proceeded to yell back. "I'm not going anywhere! The only way I'm leaving is in a coma!" He would not go back to that woman and have her life shoved down his throat.


"That can easily be arranged, brat!" As the yelling continued, Vincent finally managed to break free. Turning around, face full of anger, Vincent accepted the challenge. "Give it your best try, geezer!" He may have lost to Colt every time they ought it out in the past, but there was no way he would allow himself to be beaten this time.


--------


Almost thirty minutes later, Vincent was unconscious, body sprawled across the floor of the boxing ring like a ragdoll. Colt could only shake his head as he removed his equipment and stared down at the boy's form. "May God help whatever woman got stuck with this moron..."


@Darth Pai
 
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As he watched the soldier come closer, Jacob’s mind wandered to how will his Eradication go on about. He never assisted an official one, only the times when he was ordered by his Commanding Officers to open fire upon rebels and such. As the door opened, he got up, barely able to move and stood there while he was cuffed.


He chuckled at the soldier’s question. „Nope,” he answered „I ain’t got no one to tell nothing anymore. The big guys had my last relative killed just a few months ago.”. He then proceeded to walk down the hallways that his guide showed him. He was more dragging his feet than walking, the punch right in the gut from the guard coming from the opposite direction not helping much. After staggering on the ground, he got up and continued his path.


After a few steps, the soldier escorting him turned around and spoke again. Jacob could now see that the man before him was a higher rank than he ever was. A seargent, judging by the stripes. „Sir,” he called him out of pure military respect „don’t worry, I’m used to it, more than you could imagine. As for why they’re doing it? I don’t know, maybe they like to feel better about themselves by hurting those who can’t fight back.”. He let out a gutural laugh at the last part. „Sir, look at me. I’m beaten and tired and in no shape to attempt an escape, even if I wanted to. I just want this to be over with, so I can see my wife and son again.” he spoke with a serious tone.


Finally arriving in the room where his death was pending, his escorter surrendererd him over to the man in the white robe, standing in the middle of the room near a chair. „So, that’s how it was gonna be”, Jacob smirked. „Well, let’s get it over with.” he ended.


The executioner started strapping him to his chair , making sure he won’t try to do anything shifty during the process. Readying the dosage of death to be administered to the chair-trapped man, he was interrupted by someone who just barged through the door, wearing a black suit and glasses, with a slick, raven black haircut. Jacob knew enough to recognize an MM agent, though he had never seen him before. What surprised Jacob the most was the words he would say immediatly after entering the room.


„Stop the execution, this man is coming with me! You there,” he shouted, pointing at the man that previously escorted Jacob "you too! Come on, move it. Get him outta that chair already!" he ordered the executioner.


@X405
 
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They shook once, maybe once and a half, but soon they stood facing each other, no doubt, judging, analyzing, the thing you do when you first meet someone. Takeshi turned red when he remembered how ridiculous he looked in his waist-high parachute pants. He tried his best to ignore it and focus on her.


Hm.. Novi.. Her name was odd, the first he'd ever heard of and of which existed no comparable variant. Her two-syllable name was rare, probably the only one of its kind, yet it seemed natural to say. Like a word everyone would had learned, but forgotten to use.


"So...Takeshi. What is that, Japanese? It sounds Japanese."


Takeshi exhaled a silent sigh of relief. She spoke English and well. Had she primarily spoken a different language, it would've been difficult for him. Although he probably would've taken up a class for her language just so they could communicate.


"Yeah, it is. My mother, her ancestry had a little Japan in it, she chose it." Takeshi replied. How far did the formula go? With the factors of gene compatibility and procreative prophecy, did the equation spit out only the name of the match, or perhaps something more? Were they actually designed for each other? She was tall and attractive and from a higher class than him. What sort of mathematic geneticist paired him with her?


"How'd you choose your parents? Uh- I mean, how did you get your name? Sorry." Takeshi couldn't have butchered his words further. He smiled weakly.


@Agent Nine
 
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"Hmm."


It was neither an affirmative nor a disapproving noise. Just a noise; the vocal equivalent of a nod coming from Novi's pursed lips, really. She didn't know many Japanese people, or people with shreds of Japanese heritage in their veins. She didn't know many people in general, but that was beside the point; this guy was different, and that was interesting. Inwardly, she wondered what he thought about her, what with her brown-skin and all. Genetic diversity might have been important to their Almighty Overlords, but as far as her eyes could tell she was one of the few people in the Unity Hall with some extra melanin. True, most of the pairs had left by now, so she couldn't make general statements, but eh.


Novi's eyes drifted down to Takeshi's pants, and she almost smirked with how poofy they were. What, had he stuck wads of toilet paper down his underwear to try to impress, or was there some malfunction in those starched pants of his? Either way, it was funny. At his next words, however, her attention snapped back to his face.


Choose her parents...? A slip of the tongue that Freud himself would probably marvel at, but to Novi it was annoying. More than it needed to be, maybe. She wasn't sure why it bothered her, but it did, and the amber of her eyes seemed to darken a bit as they narrowed. Then she seemed to calm herself, and the veil of gradual anger faded. Novi shrugged a moment later, blinking at him. "Dunno. I think it's supposed to be...Latin or something. Since "nova" is a word for star and...along the way, someone decided to make a name out of it. My mom..."


Novi's voice faltered just a bit at the mention of her mother, but she was quick to strengthen it and move past her slip-up. "My mom knew Latin. Anyway, I'm guessing we have forms to sign? Better get a move on before the rest of these saps make a line."


Without waiting for him to say anything, Novi turned around and started heading in the direction that a few other partners were headed in, assuming that they'd lead her to the registration booth or whatever the hell the place was supposed to be. She was in no rush; it just seemed stupid to procrastinate on signing a few slips of paper. "The walls here are hurting my eyes," Novi muttered aloud, seemingly distracted as she walked.

​
 
As she spoke, Takeshi thought he smelled chocolate. Something aromatic about her person definitely orbited her being, something sweet, something mysterious. This was only his first Harvest but Takeshi had a feeling this would be his last.


"Dunno. I think it's supposed to be...Latin or something. Since "nova" is a word for star and...along the way, someone decided to make a name out of it. My mom..."


At the mention of her mom, Takeshi noticed her voice dip albeit very slightly. She regained her vocal rhythm quickly and professionally, a skill that made Takeshi all the more curiouser, but the thought escaped him as she continued,


"My mom knew Latin. Anyway, I'm guessing we have forms to sign? Better get a move on before the rest of these saps make a line." She turned and left him with that proposal, a confused "o" on his lips.


She hadn't waited for him, a mark of independence. It was that or she was done here. From what he observed, Novi had a sensitivity to certain topics, something Takeshi would have to remember, despite his energetic spirit of inquiry. The woman didn't look back either and a sense of guilt began to wrap around him like a blanket. He hoped he hadn't disturbed her.


"Saps?" Takeshi murmured slowly to himself. He said it in the same way you would say a word over and over again to try to understand it's meaning, but it would prove counter-productive and instead make the word sound completely foreign and alien. Takeshi's eyes widened but then he frowned as he realized she had probably been indirectly referring to their encounter.


The signings. He remembered as he got unstuck from his self-absorptions. Takeshi followed after her even though she was already far up ahead.


Seconds passed before he finally caught up with her at the couples desk. There was only one couple in front of them. As Takeshi came up next to her he said, with redemption in mind,


"Well..." He said, a smooth but ultimately cheesy expression brewing in his mind. "The name is fitting for someone as fascinating as the stars." Another weak smile.


Was this how you communicate with women? Takeshi was as lost as he had been fifteen minutes ago, looking for his match in the Love Harvest.


@Agent Nine
 
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Holy...he didn't. He did not just say what she thought he said. He couldn't have.


...He did. Oh man.


For the first time in a while, possibly weeks, Novi laughed. It began as a stifled sound, with the young woman clamping a hand over her mouth as her lips curved into a snicker. Then she glanced at him, giving him an incredulous look before the laugh bubbled up out of her throat. Still, she seemed to be restraining it, and it was a sort of harsh bout of laughter rather than the annoying, girly giggles that she'd heard passed around the hall every so often. She was laughing at him and she wasn't, all at once.


After a few seconds the laughs subsided, but the smirk still remained on her face as she turned her attention back to the registration table. "I hope you know that I won't be letting you live that down," Novi commented, then shifting her gaze up to the bored-looking woman across from her.


"Names," The woman stated, blinking slowly as she waited. Her hair was in a tight bun, and Novi could clearly see the wrinkles creasing her face, most likely stress-related ones while the rest were markings of her age.


"Novi Yuille and Takeshi uhh...ahh...ummm..." Last names weren't important. Not until right now, at least. Still looking at the woman, Novi snapped her fingers a few times before glancing over at Takeshi, a slight impatient look on her face.


@CommodoreOlaf

​
 
Hot embarrassment like liquid fire poured into the back of his suit and he worked up a sweat comparable to his overtime shifts at the factory. She continued to chuckle in his face.


You can't win 'em all. He thought glumly.


He made a wish, like he had many times in the past, for that supernatural ability to reverse time. Although, in that instant, hearing her stifled laughter (even as it was directed to him) and seeing the simple yet perfectly curved line of her grin... he withdrew it.


He had made her laugh. And that was always a positive thing, right? ...right?


"I hope you know that I won't be letting you live that down." She said with a fading smirk.


Takeshi couldn't help but beam on the inside at her response. Before he could think of something else to say, the lady behind the desk, her nametag spelling out MARGE asked for their names. Marge's tone sounded monotonously bored but in a weird way, also demanding.


"Novi Yuille and Takeshi uhh...ahh...ummm..." Novi looked back at him for his last name.


"Oshiro." Takeshi said, filling the gap of silence that had followed. The desk lady nodded and typed in the information on the computer.


"Hey, that's three things I got right today." Takeshi mumbled, loud enough for Novi to hear, but not for anyone else.


"Fingers please." Marge asked as she bent down behind the desk to retrieve something. Takeshi imagined a simple inkpad and paper sheet that would be laminated as soon as they were finished. What Marge produced from underneath her workspace was far more advanced.


The lady placed the heavy thing on the desk with a loud bang, sending a flutter of papers to the ground, leaves to this lovely autumn. "Oops." Takeshi said as he went for all of them at once. He bent down, rushing to snatch all of the documents up before they hit the ground. He was unsuccessful however and he ended up picking up most of the papers off of the floor.


A minute passed before he stood up again. Takeshi tidied up the pile of papers and placed them next to the device, a flustered expression glued to his countenance. Marge said thank-you, but she didn't look impressed, the same bored look never left. She stared at him, on the brink of losing it.


"Your fingers, Mr. Oshiro."


"Oh yeah! Sorry. I was just- my bad." He placed his fingers on top of the machine and it hummed quietly. Did you have to be such a klutz now?


@Agent Nine
 
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Oshiro, huh? That's Japanese, alright.


"Marge" then went behind the table to search for something, all the while Novi found herself a bit distracted by the piles of paper. Contracts, essentially, weren't they? Binding documents that, once signed, sealed the deal between her and her new significant other. No one ever read contracts, but Novi felt compelled to at least skim the thing she'd be signing in a few minutes, if only to see what ridiculous statements were on it.


All of a sudden, paper went fluttering to the floor. Toppling was a better word for it, really. Amused, Novi watched as Takeshi went scrambling for the flying sheets. Which took a good minute. Butterfingers, Novi mused as he replaced the piles, resting her chin on her palm as she waited for his shenanigans to be over. The woman across from them didn't seem too thrilled about it all, and Novi wondered how she'd managed to get roped into such a dreary job in the first place. It was like being an accountant, only you had to deal with an endless, annual slew of love-struck, awkward teenagers as opposed to adults who had no idea how to do their own damned jobs.


So, fingerprints? What, did they need a urine sample, too? Novi didn't say anything but rested her fingers on top of the machine, waiting until she was told to remove them. "Alright, now sign this," The woman said after that was done, sliding them one of the replaced slips of paper. "Legible font, please."


"Ladies first," Novi quipped, taking a nearby pen and effortlessly signing her name along a dotted line before handing it off to Takeshi. "Annnd now it's your turn to sign your soul over to the Devil. Make sure he can read it."


Was she joking? With Novi, it was always near impossible to tell. She at least felt like it was a joke.


While he was busy signing, she gave her collar a few experimental tugs. It had long since stopped its shrill beeps, but she preferred not to feel like a dog.


@CommodoreOlaf

​
 
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Turning around, Emilia’s bright smile quickly disappeared when she saw no brown haired young man standing near her or around her. In fact, as Emilia looked around to find where he was, she spotted the white uniform and brown hair far away. Vincent was sprinting away from her as if his life depended on it.


There were no guards in the area to stop him. Even if Emilia did call for help and report on Vincent’s behaviour, it would only end up with trouble for her Had Vincent really planned the whole thing out? Just to escape?


Simply standing by her chauffeur in complete shock, Emilia’s mouth seemed to hang open as she watched Vincent’s figure disappear into the distance. The young lady didn’t know what to do. She didn’t think there were any fairy tales where the prince was running away from the princess.


There were a few where the princess ran away from the prince, but those weren’t real fairy tales. Those were stories Emilia would make up when she thought that she wouldn’t get matched that year and needed to cheer herself up. They were rather hilarious.


Biting her lower lip to keep herself from crying, Emilia turned her gaze away and stared over at a bush. However, her sight was a little fazed, unfocused on anything and everything. What had she done wrong? From the start, Emilia was aware of the fact that Vincent did not enjoy being a part of the Love Harvest. There seemed to be many people who didn’t want to be matched up by the supercomputer.


Emilia was told that the Love Harvest would get rid of the heartache and multiple relationships that people almost a century ago would have to go through. The Love Harvest was not only good for the physical health of the Community, but it prevented so many terrible things that could’ve happened. But, as Emilia held the knowledge of the fact that her “soul mate” was running away from her, she couldn’t help but picture a hero fleeing from the main evil villain.


But, didn’t the hero often get hurt after that?


The young lady knew that she couldn’t simply rely on a storybook’s events, but the idea of it gave her the motivation to pursue after the runaway. Quickly snapping her head in the direction of where Vincent was running, Emilia’s breath got caught in her throat as she saw that the young man was no longer in sight.


Glancing over at the other woman, Emilia quickly informed her that she would call when she needed her. Emilia smiled apologetically and hurried off in the direction where Vincent was heading.


----------


Looking both left and right, Emilia found herself in the Lower Class section of Sector A. Having taken the underground tunnel the connected Sector B to Sector A, Emilia had exited the tunnel as quickly as possible and wandered around, asking locals about a young man with brown hair in a white suit.


“Hello? Sorry to bother you but,” Hurrying in front of a middle aged man, Emilia pursed her lips together. “Have you seen a young man with brown hair wearing a suit similar to man around here?” The man only rolled his eyes and shook his head, gesturing for Emilia leave him by himself.


Emilia sighed, turned around and hurried off in the other direction. The question about Vincent’s whereabouts was asked multiple times to multiple people. The sun was still high up in the sky, shining down upon the Community. It wasn’t a hot summer day, considering it was the start of the New Year; however, there was no snow on the ground.


The run down houses of the Lower Class area seemed to hold a rather sad and depressing aura, but Emilia did her best to remain optimistic. Even if her new husband ran away from her and she had no idea of where to find him. Determination filled Emilia, it practically burned in her eyes.


Some would call Emilia foolish for doing what she was doing, going into a Sector that she did not belong in one bit. Emilia went so far to go into the area of the sector that was culturally designated for the Lower Class citizens to live. Emilia had a few memories of the Lower Class section in her sector; none of them were good or bad. They were simply experiences.


But, as seconds turned into minutes, a whole thirty minutes had passed and Emilia had no leads on the whereabouts of Vincent.


Finally coming to her twenty-ninth person of the day, Emilia took a deep breath and reached out to tap the shoulder of an elderly woman. Waiting patiently, Emilia watched as the elderly lady turned around slowly, the cane she held in her right hand aided her in her walking. Much like how Emilia’s mother used to walk when she was in the golden ages of her disease.


The old woman did not say anything right when she saw Emilia, unlike the others who had demanded Emilia about what she wanted or greeted the young lady when they saw her. Instead, the elderly lady looked Emilia up and down and smiled an all knowing smile before saying something.


“Partner ran away?” The old woman said. It was a rhetorical question, a question that was more of a statement rather than an actual question.


Emilia’s lips stretched into a smile as she nodded. Opening her mouth once more, Emilia’s words rolled off her tongue, forming the question that she wouldn’t have to ask again that day. “Have you seen a young man with brown hair, wearing a suit similar to mine?”


----------


Coming around to the outside of the gym, Emilia immediately reached to push the doors open. The elderly lady had shook her head and muttered a few things about how Vincent was always such a troublesome kid and pointed Emilia in the direction of the gym. Having remembered to thank the old woman, Emilia had quickly hurried off towards the gym, following the woman’s directions.


Opening the doors, Emilia’s eyes quickly scanned over the gym, that seemed to be rather run down, and soon found herself staring at a familiar figure sprawled out on the floor of the boxing ring.


Gasping at the sight, Emilia hurried over to Vincent, holding back the thought “I knew it”. Bending down and staring at Vincent’s knocked out form, Emilia quickly took his hand in her own and checked his pulse. Finding a strong and steady beat, Emilia sighed in relief, releasing the breath that she was unknowing holding.


How did this happen? Emilia glanced around the gym, finding nothing that would explain why Vincent was unconscious in the boxing ring. He didn’t seem like he had been attacked nor did Vincent seem like someone who would collapse and fall unconscious after a run. Sure, he most likely would’ve been out of breath after sprinting away but Emilia could tell that the slightly shorter man was rather fit.


And she guessed that all this was why. Deciding that she would find out how it happened later, Emilia stood up and reached for her phone to call her chauffeur to come and pick them up. After Emilia had called the woman and given the directions to the gym, she quickly shut her phone and tucked it in one of the side pockets of her pure white uniform.


As Emilia waited for the car to come and pick both she and her partner up, she entertained herself by kicking Vincent’s unconscious body taking in the new scenery of the gym. Emilia had never been to Sector A’s Lower Class area before. In fact, she had never been in a gym. The boxing ring was a new item for her to see in real life, nevertheless, stand in one.


When Emilia heard the familiar locking of the car, she smiled softly and turned to glance at Vincent. Her chauffeur walked into the gym, just tucking the car keys into her front pocket, and waved hello to Emilia. Emilia beamed at the woman and then smiled sheepishly when she gestured to her unconscious “soul mate”, who she stood next to.


They both contributed in picking Vincent up and carrying him into the car. However, when they got to the door, the chauffeur went first, pulling the door open with one smooth move and sticking her foot out to catch it before it fell.


As they exited, Emilia heard something come from a room in the back of the gym. Turning her head around to glance over her shoulder, Emilia exited the gym and the last thing she saw was a large and rather muscular man staring right back at her.


@Lucem Tenebris
 
"Annnd now it's your turn to sign your soul over to the Devil. Make sure he can read it."


Takeshi smiled, knowing it was all in jest. The woman had a couple jokes up her sleeve, but he didn't mind. In fact, he appreciated it more than anything. The ability to enjoy life's trivial things and life's ironic situations was all the more accepted in his book.


He took the paper in his hands as thoughts raced through his head like a neuron NASCAR. So this was what marriage was like? Takeshi could remember old photos of his great-great-great grandmother, a young adult at the time, wearing a marvelous white dress. A thin veil covered her face and he gloved hands were clasped in front of her, a small bouquet of crimson roses tucked between her palms.


Beside her, stood her young and bold husband, looking dapper in his classic black and white tuxedo, his bow tie not the tiniest bit slanted. They both had very different clothing but they shared the same genuine smile.


That was marriage back then. Now it was very different. The once sacred promise between two souls in love became instead a blood promise to the government. A promise where defiance meant eradication, a treasonous move that only ended in death. What love still existed in this special union called marriage, especially in this day and age?


Takeshi bit his lip as he skimmed over the contract. He didn't know truly what love was apart from what he received from his parents. He was lucky enough that they worked well with each other. Would he and Novi work out? Were they truly compatible or did science get it wrong?


Takeshi took a deep breath, realizing the gamut of everything. After a hesitant pause, he signed it. He handed the paper to Marge as he stole a glance at Novi, the woman who was to be his "wife". For a second, he was lost in her eyes, those darkened receptors.


Taking the sonic collar off like the couple had done before them, a grin tugged at his lips as he said,


"Is this the part where I kiss the bride ?"


The lady behind the desk didn't look impressed. Dammit Marge, you make me feel so inadequate.


@Agent Nine
 

Novi's eyes wandered as she stood in her spot, her palms down on the table, body weight leaning into it as she waited. Every so often her gaze would fall upon Marge, and on those occasions when the woman happened to be looking back at her at the same moment she was quick to divert her attention to something else. At the moment, Novi was staring over at Takeshi, specifically down at his hand as it clutched the pen, the inky point hovering precariously above the paper.


Would he really sign it...?


She quickly answered her own question. Of course he will. He doesn't have a choice, anyway; I'll bet they'd force him to sign it if he refused. Either that or a bullet in the back of the head.


...Did he want to sign it? Another odd question, though this one seemed to have more merit. She got the feeling that the guy wasn't as miserable as she'd seen other people acting within the last ten minutes, the ones who'd been aimlessly walking around with their faces so long and droopy that Novi expected them to fall off. Did he actually enjoy being here, or was he just skilled at hiding his true feelings? He certainly seemed to like staring at her a lot, which Novi couldn't pinpoint as being either a good or bad thing. She stared, too, but only out of curiosity. The whole thing was just so strange.


Then again, of course it'd be strange to her. Novi was a young woman who kept to herself most of the time, and the last few Love Harvests she'd been a part of had ended in her strolling away as a free woman. Now here she was, finally matched to someone. Actually, she was a bit thankful that he wasn't a crying, pessimistic mope. Novi wouldn't have had the patience for him. He wasn't a squealing optimist, either, finding sunshine and lollipops in every speck of dust that floated in the air. The guy was...balanced.


The paper was signed, and he handed it off to Marge, whose only response was a slow, indifferent blink. Someone needs a gin or two, Novi mused, glancing at the woman, again, before her eyes flicked back to Takeshi.


"Is this the part where I kiss the bride ?"


On the inside, out of his line of sight, she could feel herself become flustered at the comment. On the outside, however, Novi's expression remained unchanged save for the single eyebrow that raised itself. "You could try to," The young woman said, looking steadily at him as she un-clipped her own collar. "But I'd probably have to tear off your mouth."


@CommodoreOlaf

​
 
After being knocked out during his match against Colt, Vincent's body had been rendered immobile. His mind was perfectly blank and was unaware of everything that was going on around him. While being knocked out was a serious cause for concern, his body had grown to tolerate it somewhat after suffering through it multiple times in the past and all for the same reason.


After being taken away, Vincent's condition had started to improve, but he was nowhere close to waking up. He hadn't regained the ability to think clearly or move his body, but he had some of his senses return after awhile. In the times where he would come out of the darkness for a brief period, he could feel what was happening, despite being unaware. However, he would soon slip back under.


There was the constant feeling of hovering, as if he was flying or being carried. He could also feel the force of vibrations, along with the sense that he was moving. Of course, being able to simply feel meant nothing when you were unable to do anything about it. He was practically a stone.


Eventually, his time of forced rest would come to an end when he would be brought to a house by his captors. Despite the very purpose of his escape to keep himself from being forced to go along with his new bride, his actions had caused him to arrive at her very doorstep. Well, at least he wasn't conscious to suffer through the experience.


Several minutes after being brought into the Jarvis household, Vincent slowly opened his eyes. Upon waking, Vincent felt a very soft sensation. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. While he couldn't tell what it was, he did know that it was big enough to support him while he rested his back on it. Besides the softness, it was very cool to the touch.


Rising into a sitting position, Vincent winced and rubbed the injured area of his skull. "What happened?" After a moment of pondering the question, he soon remembered that there was a certain incident that involved him being hit by a very large boxing glove that belonged to a very large man.


Feeling the pain being replaced by irritation, Vincent clenched his fist tightly as he took on a glowering expression. "That damn ape!" Once again, he had lost to the man that never ceased to get on his nerves. "If I had only swung to the right..."


In the middle of his thoughts, Vincent had failed to notice the new area he was now in. Of course when he did notice, his mood shifted to one of confusion. "Where am I?"


Taking a look at his surroundings, the first thing Vincent noticed was the bed. It surprised him a bit, being more than twice his size. The surface was embroidered with a spiral pattern that was formed by a series of blooming flowers of pink and lavender, the sheets giving off an aroma that made it seem as if they were actually there.


Identifying it as the source of the soft sensation he had felt before, Vincent bounced up and down on the bed, similar to a child. The closest thing he experienced to a bed was the cot in the storage room of the gym. He had never actually seen a real one.


Investigating it a big more, Vincent laid down and felt the cooling touch of silk. The bed felt very much like sleeping on a cloud. However, as wonderful as it may have been for its owner, Vincent didn't feel that comfortable having his body pressed against the bed. The sensation was too foreign and varied greatly from the hard surfaces he was used to. He would be much more content with sleeping on the floor.


Now standing up, feet planted on the carpeted floors, Vincent observed the rest of the room. It was extravagant to say the least. Everything from the dresser drawers to the sheets of the bed he had just been investigating were colored the same two tones of blue and white, making the room resemble a vast and tranquil sky. Even the walls were made to have the same light azure. The only objects that stood out were the chrome fixtures that adorned the adjacent bathroom and the golden chandelier in the middle of the room that hung from the ceiling. There was not a spot of dust to be found on any of the dozens of lightbulbs that resembled stars, fitting with the room's apparent motif.


After his exploring of the room, Vincent came to stand in front of a body-length mirror. Observing himself, Vincent was glad that he had time to change out of that ridiculous white outfit before being knocked out. That thing was absolutely horrible, with or without the collar.


Rather than his Love Harvest uniform, Vincent now wore what could be described as befitting of someone with his upbringing. Rather than the top of the white jumpsuit, he now wore the solid black shirt from earlier, the lack of sleeves revealing a good portion of the scars he obtained throughout his life, the lines adorning his body a lighter color than his usual skin tone. Going along with the rest of his morning wear, the lower half of his body was covered by a pair of worn, dark jeans. They had noticeably been around for a long time, based on the holes that took to exposing his skin to the elements. While they may have been cut up here and there, they did manage to reach down to his black and red sneakers, providing some warmth for his legs. Besides the usual articles of clothing, a pair of blank, silver tags hung from the chain around his neck. In addition he wore a pair of black, fingerless gloves, along with a roll of bandages on his forearm on account of some injuries that hadn't quite healed yet.


Unsurprisingly, Vincent didn't have a large selection of clothing and what little he had was unsuited for cold climates. The one thing he owned that could protect him from some of the harsh conditions of winter was an old jacket. He was sure he had been wearing it previous to being knocked unconscious, but had been unable to find it after waking up. It would be a bit troublesome if the weather took a turn for the worse when he returned. Then again, this brought back the same question from earlier. Where was he?


@Darth Pai
 
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There are three types of silence; awkward silences, emotional silences, and still silences. An awkward silence is when the quietness is caused by an awkward situation and there is nothing being said. Emotional silences are the silences that are often used in novels to make the readers' hearts beat faster with anticipation. Be the emotion anger, happiness, or sadness, emotional silences tend to be very passionate and almost always lead up to a big event. Now, still silences. Still silences are absolutely natural. They are the silences where those who are apart of the silence all mutually agree that silence is best.


By those three definitions of the three types of silence, the car ride home was deemed a still silence. There were only three people in the car; the chauffeur, Emilia, and an unconscious Vincent. After setting Vincent down in the back seat, the two women had sat down in the front seats and sighed with fatigue. Even the chauffeur, who wasn't used to lifting things, had struggled. Although, she was the one who had to open the doors and lead Vincent into the back seat without slamming his head against a door or letting him drop to the ground like a rag doll.


The only sounds that could be heard were the noises coming from the engine of the car and anything that could be heard through the shut tinted windows. The silence was rather comfortable. It was pleasing to know that after a tiring day, they would get to take off their shoes and fall asleep immediately when they got home. Well, that's what Emilia felt. However, the young woman could tell by the look on her chauffeur's face that the other woman was fatigued as well.


Emilia had leaned back in her seat and stared out the window, watching as the scenery rushed passed her. Correction. She rushed passed the scenery. Emilia's eyelids began to drift closed, wanting to follow Vincent's example and fall asleep, sprawled out on the ground. However, the moment Emilia heard the sirens ringing through the Middle Class streets, her eyes shot open as she stared in shock in front of her.


As the law ordered, the chauffeur easily moved over to the side and cleared the street of any cars to allow the ambulance to pass. The whole street seemed to be dead as the ambulance rushed through, followed by a group of the military soliders who were there to control whatever crowd there was. After sll, that's what the military did. Control the general public under the government's orders. Emilia always found the military service to be honourable. To serve the Community in such a way was very great thing to do. Especially if you have to commit your entire life to it.


When traffic began moving again, Emilia felt herself release a breath that she seemed to be holding for quite some time. The cars all smoothly drove back onto the roads and began to drive as if nothing happened at all. And nothing did. Occurrences such as the ambulance and the military rushing through the streets was completely common and it didn't faze people as much as it did before. Now, death is just a number.


Even Emilia was able to admit that she was no longer as sensitive to the word death as she once been. Time and time, over and over, the frequent sounds of the ambulance has desensitized the Community. And it was not a good thing.


The rest of the car ride went smoothly, there were no other interruptions but this time, Emilia could not fall asleep. She let her eyes rest by closing them, however, Emilia's mind did not allow the young lady to fall asleep. The loud sound of the ambulance's siren still rang in her ears and Emilia found her thoughts on the subject of the young man in her back seat.


Vincent. Emilia had a few questions for him when he awoke from his what seemed to be a forced slumber. For example, "How did you fall unconscious?" or "Was there another person in the gym before?" but Emilia knew for a fact that Vincent would not answer them. It was kind of like asking her father for a puppy. The answer Emilia was given was always a simple and straight up "No".


Now, if Vincent had been knocked out purposefully, Emilia would have had to been brought to the fact that Vincent had been willingly fighting another. Or others. However, the possibility that there were multiple people that Vincent fought would be a very low chance. There weren't enough injuries on the boy. It seemed that the final blow was to his head, which caused Vincent to fall unconscious.


However, that's what Emilia assumed by connecting one thing to another. A simple inference. She wasn't going to perform a full autopsy on Vincent. He wasn't dead after all. However, he could be brain dead. Perhaps Emilia should call a doctor just to make sure Vincent was alright.


During the car ride, Emilia's tiredness made her slightly irritable. Her positive and usually optimistic thoughts soon turned into passive aggressive sarcastic comments. ‘He's kind of idiotic, thinking he could just run away like that.' Emilia shook her head, causing her chauffeur to quickly glance at the young woman but then turn her attention back too the road before her.


The young woman tucked a stray strand of hair that fell in her face behind her ear and leaned on the armrest. ‘One does not simply walk into Mordor run away from their troubles.' You see, Emilia wasn't an idiot. She could see and understand. However, if you would call someone who would choose oblivion and blissful happiness over intelligence and depressing knowledge an idiot then yes, I guess you could call Emilia an idiot. Then again, some people just don't have a choice.


As the car began to slow down in front of the driveway, Emilia was brought out of her thoughts and found herself staring at the familiar gate that she had seen so many times, she had memorized everything. From the small and intricate shapes to the measurement of the hypotenuse of the triangles that were apart of the design.


One who had never seen the gate as many times as Emilia would've found it extremely impressive, it was made of metal, twisted and curved to create the "piece of art" that kept intruders out. Then again, Emilia only found the gates to be a burden. It was a burden when Emilia was a child and it still is a burden now. The beige walls that surrounded the residence were almost worse but the gates allowed Emilia to peek through but never actually explore the world without supervision.


Emilia hated the feeling knowing that she was contantly being watched, that she was unable to make her own decisions. She wanted to be free! To explore the rest of the Community was one of Emilia's dreams. It's actually really ironic. Emilia just isn't aware of it at the moment.


Getting out of the car by herself, Emilia was much too tired to have to wait for her chauffeur to rush out of the car the door. After all, Emilia was a fast learner. Having opened the total of three doors by herself today, Emilia found that it wasn't that of a big deal to open your own door. It was just a door after all.


Stepping on the blue and white stone tiles of the driveway, Emilia was used to the signature Upper Class look of the patriotic blue and white. The colour blue was for the elites, the Upper Class, while the white represented the unity of the Community. Having a house with the colour theme of blue and white was just a public announcement of the fact that the Jarvis household clearly supported the government.


Stretching her arms and legs while cracking her back, Emilia dragged her feet over to the front double doors and pushed them open. About to walk in, Emilia held back an unladylike groan hn she remembered about Vincent, who was still knocked out in the back seat of the car.


Deciding not to go through the tedious task of picking Vincent up and carrying once more, Emilia informed the servants, who were all lined up, awaiting an order, that there was a man in the back of the car that needed tending to. Straightening her posture, Emilia sent a somewhat tired smile over at the servants as she then proceeded to lie down on the sofa in the lounge room.


Finally, for the first time today, Emilia's tense muscles began to relax. Cuddling a pillow to her chest, Emilia's eyes shut closed and in a matter of minutes, soft snores could be heard from the young lady.

----------

​



"Emilia?" Laura's voice was what the blonde awoke to. Emilia let out a sigh, signalling that she was awake and semi-listening. "He's awake." With the knowledge of Vincent's awakening, Emilia flipped around and used her arm to shield her eyes from the light. A few moments passe and Laura's quick footsteps could be heard as she left the room.


Covering her mouth as she yawned, Emilia sat up but did not dare to open her eyes yet. She could tell that there was still light streaming in through the windows and illuminating the room but Emilia did not want to open her eyes to see what time it was. Finally, after building up enough diligence, Emilia slowly pushed her eyes open. Using her hand to shield her eyes from the light, Emila spotted the multiple colours of red, yellow, orange, and purple highlight the blue and white themed room. The sun was setting, which was understandable considering the long day it was, and the stars were beginning to shine through.


When Emilia saw this, she sighed and rubbed her eyelids. Pushing her hair out her her face, Emilia frowned a little and then flopped back onto the couch, wanting to just fall back asleep. However, as much as Emilia wanted to, she knew that she couldn't. Finally forcing herself to get up off the couch with one move, Emila rolled her shoulders back and quickly exited the room while she was still on a roll.


Passing through the main entrance, Emilia found herself dragginf her feet by the time she got to the foot of the stairs. When she looked up, Emilia frowned and said, "So..many steps.." Shaking her head and massaging her face, Emilia sighed with each step, miraculously not tripping on any of the steps.


By the time Emilia got to the top of the stairs, she was wide awake and quickly made her way to her bedroom. Entering the - still - blue and white coloured room, Emilia opened the door to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. Grabbing one of the white towels, Emilia patted the fluffy cloth on her face before neatly hanging it back on the hanger.


Exiting the bathroom, Emilia was practically beaming as she stripped herself of the white uniform and put on a much more comfortable outfit. Dressed in a simple white blouse and a long, pastel pink skirt, Emilia giggled as she slipped on fuzzy yellow socks and laced up her brown boots. Grabbing a patterned light brown cardigan to keep herself warm, Emilia hurried out her room and towards one of the many rooms of the household. However, this one room had one special thing in it: lavender bed sheets.


Oh, and Vincent, of course. Emilia had to make sure the young man wasn't trying to escape through one of the windows.


Hurrying down the stairs to the first floor, Emilia entered the kitchen to find that Laura was already holding two mugs of hot tea. Beaming at the other lady, Emilia thanked Laura when she handed Emilia the mugs, saying, "Be careful, it's hot."


Taking a sip of her own cup, Emilia then proceeded to make her way towards the room with lavender sheets. Careful not to spill any of the liquid, Emilia soon stood in front of the door, wondering on how she was going to get inside if both of her hands were occupied.


Deciding to simply knock on the door, Emilia stepped forward hesitantly and hit her forehead against the door a couple of times. That should work. With a smile on her face, Emilia waited patiently for Vincent to open the door.


Or for her to have to open it herself, only to discover that Vincent did manage to escape through the window and was now at the edge of the gardens, trying to climb the wall.


@Lucem Tenebris
 
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