Wires and Gears

[Deleted]

Syren's chest heaved as she hauled herself out of the shut down machiene. The cooling system in the metal contraption had crashed sand shed spent the entire day repairing the steel pipes that held the water. Dirt and grime covered the short women from head to toe. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, smearing a bit of grease onto her skin. She'd finally gotten the darn thing fixed and exhaustion was beginning to take its hold, making her want nothing more than to get into a hot shower and sleep the night away.her shoulders ached as she stretched her arms over head. She walked into the locker room. She pulled off her white shirt, that now needed to be bleached, again, and yanked her pants free from her sticky legs. She stood infront of the cracked mirror in her underwear, hoping to whatever higher power that no one would walk in, she was right infront of the door, as she pulled her the hair ties off the ends of her closely knitted French braid. Her fingers ran through her mahogany tresses working the braids loose before her hair hung in waves down past her shoulders. Her head whipped around to the right as the door suddenly opened...

(always making awkward meetings XD and yes she's in her underwear XD )

[Raeoki]

What was he doing there, amongst cold, unfeeling machines? What right did those greasy, noisy robots have to be even looked upon by James Dirk? What right did those steel mechanisms have to take up any moment of his precious time? What right did man's invention have to take James Dirk away from his sisters? Especially from the beautiful, sweet, twelve-year-old Kayla Dirk, who was nearly thrown into a game of murder and mayhem a few days ago?

They didn't. Machines and robots were cold, soulless creatures that didn't deserve any man's attention. But the government of Panem was cruel: they happily inflicted taxes and poverty on the districts that had dared to show dissidence, and annually threw children into a televised, blood-filled event. That was why James Dirk walked to the factory that morning. Not for himself, necessarily, but for his sisters, one of which having come very close to being another twelve-year-old tribute in this year's Games (District 6 having reaped a little girl by the name of Selkie). A day couldn't be set aside to make sure a child's emotions wouldn't be manipulated and darkened by her relative brush with death. Eating and surviving mattered so much more in the cruel country of Panem.

With these brooding thoughts plaguing his mind, James had been distracted most of the day. Frustration caused his heart to writhe and his mind to become frazzled. To hear the brassy whistle blow, signaling the workers to leave, was more relaxing than any massage. Usually, James would go straight home, his work clothes still on him, but on this night he couldn't wait a five minute walk to get out of the work uniform. He didn't want to bring home the stench of the workplace. There was no need to remind the girls of the reason why there family remained separated until late into the night. James didn't want to do that to them. That was why he opened the locker room's door.

When he stepped in, he was soon met with surprise. James's head jerked back, and he opened his mouth a little to say apologies that never came out. The door closed itself behind him.

As he looked on, it occurred to him that she was, indeed, quite pretty. Oh, forget that - she's a damn knockout! The surprise soon melted. His heart began to beat rapidly, but not in the alarming way that it does when a body is surprised or frightened. This was a swift beat that warmed the heart and made it tingle with a loving want. Even the dirt and grime she was coated in made Syren appealing. James had never minded women that were willing to get dirty: it proved their worth, independence, and strength, something that they'd need if their mate should ever die or abandon them. 

Suddenly, it occurred to James who this woman was. So enwrapped by her looks, he had forgotten who this "knockout" was - a kinswoman of his own boss. The very person who could get him fired if he looked at her the wrong way, and James had the disheartening feeling that he had been looking at her quite the wrong way. James squeezed his eyes closed and turned his face away, though he found them both rather difficult tasks to accomplish.

How could he have been so stupid? James had seen Syren around the factory a few times before; how could he not have remembered her face the moment he spotted her? Had today been such a troubling day that he had forgotten, at the least, his manners? James, having been living with two girls and having courted women, knew the feminine mind, and ought to have known to look away the moment he spotted Syren. What's the matter with you? he scolded himself. At least apologize to the poor dame!

James twisted his mouth around. Without looking at her, he said, "Sorry about that, really."

[Deleted]

((i'll write the post later. please be patient with me))

Syren

[/size]
I can see there's so much to learn
It's all so close and yet so far
I see myself as people see me
I just know there's something bigger out there!

Syren felt her face flush, her cheeks turning a to delicate pink color. She turned around as he did the same and ended up facing her reflection. Her hair was a tangled mess from being in the braid and her skin wore all the wear and tear mixed with machiene grease and grime. She wanted to hang herself for this. She'd seen James around the factory, but had never really talked to him. She'd been a bit too shy to. That guy definatly worked the the factory dirt in the hottest way possible, and his height didnt help to take things down a notch.

Syren had always like tall men, they got to her in the same way Jame's looks did and she'd never even said to words to the guy. And... now was standing right in front of him... in her underwear... fantastic. She tried to think of a way she could play this to her advantage without making herself look like a whore. "No it's... it's fine I guess... I mean a swimsuit covers less right?" She turned on the faucet to one of the sinks below the mirror and started washing the grime from her skin, the water rolling of her pale arms in a dark shade of grey. She washed her face clean, a fair amount of water dripping down her front, and patted her skin dry with a towel. She tried to smooth out her hair but she decided to just leave it wavy. "You're James right?" Idiot of course he is. She shifted her weight to one foot and turned back towards him.

[/justify][/blockquote]

I wanna know!
Can you show me?
I wanna know about these strangers like me
Tell me more, please show me
Something's familiar about these strangers like me

Tagged:TAGGED HERE
Words:WORDS HERE
Clothes:Link
Health:750/750
Hunger:100/100
Damage Done:DAMAGE HERE
Attack:ATTACK HERE
[/center]

[Raeoki]

He was surprised and insolently pleased at how she merely brushed off the situation with a small comment on swimwear. James' mouth twitched into a small grin, and he raised his head slowly. His eyes lit up at the sight of her; his grin grew. James straightened his back, drawing himself up to his full, great height. James drew in one large breath through his nose and exhaled, his chest rising and then falling as he did.

James waited patiently as she cleansed her skin of grease and sweat with tapwater. As she turned around again to face him, disappointment gave his heart a slight prick, and his smile faltered. Some of that confidence and dominance had left her, taken from her the moment the water touched her skin. Syren was, of course, still beautiful (James had a rather mawkish sentiment that Syren could never stop being beautiful, no matter what happened), but now she seemed exposed in every sense of the word.

Syren asked him to confirm his name. James grin became larger than it had been originally, and he took a bold step forward. "Yeah, that's it," James said with a slight nod. He paused, hesitated. To take another step or not to take another step? That was the painful question. Lust urged him forward, in it's obvious, subliminal sort of way; courtesy and the reminder of hierarchy shouted in his ear about how they wished to nail his feet to the floor. James leaned forward a little, trying to ignore the sensations. "And your Miss Jones, right? The boss's sis?" he added.

His gaze never left her. As James continued to stare, lust grew restless. It thrashed at his heart like a psychotic demon; it roared and wailed and moaned unceaselessly, begging for its pleas to be heard. James fidgeted a little. Hierarchy still weighed heavily on his mind, but the desire to draw closer to the elegant lady standing before him was a greater burden. James began to close the gap between Syren and himself, his stride sloe. His gaze was wary for signs that she was about to cry out and fire him. If there were any, he didn't catch them.

James halted in front of her. His grin was still on his face, but it was smaller now. It showed that he was still cautious, courteous, and evidently still mindful of social order. He leaned in slightly, just to get his face closer to hers, but he didn't come too close, and he didn't dare be aggressive about it. "Hey - did you get all washed up for me?" he said pleasantly. "Yah didn't have to do that, y'know." He paused, his mouth contorting thoughtfully. "If - if it helps any, I've been worse. Just sayin'." That was true. On some nights, his golden hair became so tainted by grease, sweat, and oil that it was dyed a distasteful, light brown color that was slimy to the touch. 

(ooc: Sorry - terrible ending. Dx It's just...it's two in th morning, and I'm kinda tired, so... )x )

[Deleted]

Syren

[/size]
I can see there's so much to learn
It's all so close and yet so far
I see myself as people see me
I just know there's something bigger out there!

Syren's head tilted back as James moved closer to her. He was so tall that her head wouldnt move back anymore to look up at him. Her face flushed darker as he spoke about the grime that the water, currently dripping from her finger, has washed away. She'd never liked the way the grease had felt on her skin, even though there was no avoiding it. Still, she tried to keep her skin as clean as possible. It wasn't acceptable for a woman of her standing to be covered in grease, it was just how she was raised.

James was so close to her that she could feel his body heat radiating from his skin. "I-I... just dont enjoy grease ground into my skin, but I do enjoy other things." She winked before ducking around him, laughing a little as she walked around one of the sets of lockers. James disappeared from veiw as she opened her locker and pulled out the clothes she had worn coming in this morning. She tugged the clothing on before walking back into view and leaning against one of the lockers. She crossed her ankles her eyes drifted up and down his body. He may have been poor, but damn he looked sexy even with the grease. A smirk trailed across her lips as she stood straight and walked towards him. She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and made a split decision before she could talk herself out of it. "You're not doing anything later are you?"

[/justify][/blockquote]

I wanna know!
Can you show me?
I wanna know about these strangers like me
Tell me more, please show me
Something's familiar about these strangers like me

Tagged:TAGGED HERE
Words:WORDS HERE
Clothes:HEY LOOK AN ACTUAL LINK XD
Health:750/750
Hunger:100/100
Damage Done:DAMAGE HERE
Attack:ATTACK HERE
[/center]

[Raeoki]

James couldn't help but grin a little when she stepped out from behind the lockers. He was surprised - and almost refreshed - to find that she looked even better in clothes than in undergarments. The clothes seemed to add to her personality, give her a flare that James hadn't noticed the first time he had seen her. The way the bodice hugged her upper body, the skirt and its ruffles - it made her all the more attractive and appealing. It made him shuffle slightly closer to her. It made him grin.

There was a small pause as she leaned against a locker and looked him over. James found this rather thrilling; he stood as straight as he could, stretching his body to its full height as he did. James wished he could stand straighter without looking like a fool. He wished to please her; how looking taller pleased her, he didn't know, but he didn't care. All James could think about was having her; earning her, in some strange way that was equivalent to a mating ritual between two animals. And why shouldn't he? Syren was attractive. Syren was rich. To him, she was perfect.

Syren moved closer to him, a smirk on her face. James's own grin grew. "You're not doing anything later are you?"

James felt his heart leap joyfully in his chest. Most of the time, it was he who asked a lady out on a date, and he found it an honor to be asked out by such a beautiful woman. And not just any beautiful young lady: she was a woman of higher standing, the heiress of her parents' riches and spoils; a queen dressed in gold among greasy wires and gears. Of course James was excited. Since he was a boy, it was his dream to wed and become a gilded monarch's king. A farfetched hope, to be sure, but in Syren's presence, there was no doubt of it now. Though he felt excitement and wonder stir and flutter in his chest, he made sure he gave a calm and pleased air. "No," he said evenly.

It didn't occur to James that he was basing everything on appearance. After all, he didn't know her personally; in the past, they had only seen each other around the factory. They had never spoken before. The only reason he said "no" was because he wanted a queen, and Syren most certainly looked like one. Yes, the queen herself seemed humble enough to soil her regalia with a machine's grease and undress in a public area, but the willingness to perform manual labor was not an actual, viable sign of a good heart. As for the undressing - that could mean an entirely different, most disgraceful thing indeed.

However, James did seem to regret saying anything at all the moment he had replied. At that moment, he remembered his Kayla and Bella – his most precious, most beloved sisters. How could he forget them? They were still waiting for him; waiting for their stupid, forgetful brother to tuck them into bed. They were probably worried about him; yes, James often returned from the factory at a late hour, but he had the suspicion that he would be at home now if he hadn't discovered Syren. James's eyes darkened. He dipped his head, crinkled his brow; he closed his eyes, paused to exhale loudly through his nose, and then opened his eyes again. "Yes." James fidgeted uncomfortably. "Y'know what? I've been an idiot. I gotta - I gotta go home, y'see." Why had he put it like that? Was he not man enough to explain that he was a fool and had forgotten that his sisters needed him? Admit that the queen wasn't fit for a foolish, forgetful peasant like him? James squeezed his eyes closed. No. He wasn't brave enough. If he told her that, she would know exactly that was what he was, and she'd never return to him. For who wanted to be with a man who forgot his owns sisters, who were practically daughters to him?

James opened his eyes slowly, and looked down at her apologetically. "An - anyway I can take a rain check?"

(ooc: Sorry for making you wait. DDDx )

[Deleted]

Syren

[/size]
I can see there's so much to learn
It's all so close and yet so far
I see myself as people see me
I just know there's something bigger out there!

Syren felt herself smile as James replied. A flicker of hope sparked inside her. She had always thought that he was sexy, incredably so, but she didnt really know him. A subtle yearning for the company of another person had grown since she was a child, all alone in her parents house. She used to get lost in the mansion, when she was a kid. Now she lived in a smaller complex still large in size, and she was still alone, surrounded by the gadgets she build and the soft whirring of her tinker toys. The good thing about having money, she was able to acquire the tools and other things needed to tinker constantly. The bad thing was that she was still alone, but she was somewhat content, finding little ways to pass the time.

Syren felt her smile fall as James gave his second reply. She found herself nodded, slightly dazed by being turned down. "I understand..."
She backed up a little, accidently bumping into a set of lockers as her spark of hope was diminished. She tried to hide the disappointment from her face and wished for it to work. She should have known he wouldnt be able to do anything, having heard about his family from other workers. He was single of course, but he had sisters to take care of. Syren continued to back towards the door. "I guess I'll see you around then... Just... let me know when you're free." Syren nodded in farewell and spun on her heel, walking swiftly out the door.

[/justify][/blockquote]

I wanna know!
Can you show me?
I wanna know about these strangers like me
Tell me more, please show me
Something's familiar about these strangers like me

Thoughts:lol not a happy one is she? XD
Tagged:TAGGED HERE
Words:WORDS HERE
Clothes:HEY LOOK AN ACTUAL LINK XD
Health:750/750
Hunger:100/100
Damage Done:DAMAGE HERE
Attack:ATTACK HERE
[/center]

[Raeoki]

James winced as the smile fell from Syren's face. He felt his stomach churn and writhe angrily as she replied; the vexation of his stomach seemed to reach the ears of his heart, which began to lurch in dismay for its friend. James watched Syren back into a locker, cringing a little. He opened his mouth to apologize, but his mouth felt dry and rough, and his tongue numb. Syren headed for the door. As James watched her exit the locker room, his heart shook itself free of its grief and began to beat at its cage of ribs furiously. "Go after her, you fool!" it screamed in desperation. "Reach out your hand; call her back! Are you not attracted to her? Go forth! Go forth, and end the suffering of my dear friend - my bosom pal (if I had a bosom) - your stomach! Go! Go!!"

He hesitated, running his palm over his chest. Why did James feel so terribly about declining an offer of courtship? He had done it before, and with girls who were just as pretty as Syren - well, perhaps, almost as pretty as Syren. Why did this cause him so much grief? Was it because of fear? The terror of watching a long sought for dream slip out of his hands and shatter as it landed on the floor? No, that couldn't be it; the way Syren had put it, it seemed to him he could offer her a date whenever he was ready. James's declination could be thought of as merely temporary; he could hook up with the heiress - the royal queen of the factory - whenever they had the time to.

James sucked in a deep breath, and marched for the door without thinking. He'd speak to her; he'd tell her that she needn't feel so disappointed. A date was going to happen, by God - sooner or later. He pushed open the door, and headed out of the locker room.

So there was love here. There was more to it than sexual desires and passions. In a short amount of time, a man and a woman had formed affections for each other. Romance had blossomed like a rose in that place of cold steel and slippery grease. 

James saw her, walking hurriedly away from him. He sprinted to catch up to her, extending his hand out. "'Ey - 'ey! Syren - ah, crap, sorry - Miss Jones!" She was foot away from him now. James lurched forward, grabbing her gently by forearm to stop her. "Lissen for a moment, a'right? Look - I'm sorry for turnin' you down an' all that. I mean dat. But lissen - the date? Tomorrow. Tomorrow night, I promise you. I'll make it da greatest night of your life. Just tell me what yah wanna do, a'right? You wanna go dancin'? We'll go dancin' till we're sore. Dine at some fancy restaurant? We'll eat like kings. Yah wanna go to da moon? Goddammit, we'll go to da moon! A'right? So - so just - don' look so sad, a'right? We're gonna have a blast tomorrow."

He spoke hurriedly, making wild gestures with his free hand and twisting his body around to give her an idea of what he was saying. 

(ooc: So sorry for the short post!! Dx And sorry for any typos. I didn't have enough time to write a lot, or proofread it, for that matter. )x )

[Deleted]

Syren

[/size]
I can see there's so much to learn
It's all so close and yet so far
I see myself as people see me
I just know there's something bigger out there!

Syren was halfway out the door to the factory when she felt a hand gently pull her to a stop by her forearm. She felt idiotic for acting so foolishly in front of him. Embarressed by how she'd run off without giving him the chance to respond and humiliated because she was on the verge of tears. She'd kept her head down low and avoided as many people as possible as she'd walked through the factory. But then a large hand pulled her to a stop. She spun around and found herself very close to James, his face barely a foot away, due to his height, her chest grazed his andher blue eyes were wide with a subtle shock. She swallowed and stepped back a little from him as he spoke. She could here the thick accent of the poorer side of the District in his voice. Most would find it repulsive.

Only Syren didnt think so. She found it endearing and it only added on to her attraction to him. "Please call me Syren, 'Miss Jones' sounds way to formal one who works in a factory." She wiped a bit of grease onto the brown ruffles of her skirt. Her head snapped up, her eyes searching his as he spoke. "Lissen for a moment, a'right? Look - I'm sorry for turnin' down an' all that. I mean dat. But lissen - the date? Tomorrow. Tomorrow night, I promise you. I'll make it da greatest night of your life. Just tell me what yah wanna do, a'right? You wanna go dancin'? We'll go dancin' till we're sore? Dine at some fancy restraint? We'll eat like kings. Yah wanna go to da moon? Goddammit, we'll go to da moon! A'right? So - so just - don' look so sad, a'right? We're gonna have a blast tomorrow." She felt herself grin, giddy like a school girl. "Alright.. I mean yes. Tomorrow. That would be great. Honestly I'm up for just about anything." Syren swallowed her sudden rise of nervousness and walked closer to him, standing on her toes and kissing him lightly on the cheek. "How does 7 oclock sound? That way you have time to get things um.. settled at home?"

[/justify][/blockquote]

I wanna know!
Can you show me?
I wanna know about these strangers like me
Tell me more, please show me
Something's familiar about these strangers like me

Thoughts:lyey
Tagged:TAGGED HERE
Words:WORDS HERE
Clothes:HEY LOOK AN ACTUAL LINK XD
Health:750/750
Hunger:100/100
Damage Done:DAMAGE HERE
Attack:ATTACK HERE
[/center][/quote][/quote]

[Raeoki]

It was a very soothing thing, to see Syren Jones smile. It was like watching the first rays of sunlight burst through the horizon, causing the darkness of night to flee from its soft, golden fingers. Perhaps, in the days before Panem, humans found the sunrise to be a frivolous and over-romanticized thing, but in this brave new world that had been ravaged by wars, plagues, and a lesser form of the apocalypse, the sunrise was a thing needed and craved for by humankind. It was a thing of absolute assurance when the freedoms of the people were constantly changing (and usually for the worse). It reassured the diurnal creatures, telling them that there shall be a tomorrow; that the starving and caged residents of the districts shall pass through the night there own government inflicted upon them to a welcoming and warm morning.

In comparison to Syren's grin, the sunrise was exactly the same. Just as beautiful, just as pleasant, and just as reassuring. As James examined her face, all of his worries and troubles immediately slipped from his mind. He felt lighter as he listened to her reply. His eyes gleamed with delight, and his lips pulled back into a large, pleased grin. There was nothing to worry about now. The factory worker would court the heiress until a wedding forged an eternal bond between the two, or they got sick of each other before either could have their fingers measured for a golden band. Hopefully, James wouldn't have to worry about the latter, but instead search the future for the former. But there was no need in thinking such thoughts at that moment; what truly mattered was that he had brought delight into a woman that had looked so distraught and lonely only a few moments ago; a woman who made James's heart flutter joyfully, as he realized how close they were to each other; a woman whom James was half-tempted to say that he loved.

She had to raise herself up onto her toes for her face to be anywhere near his. At first, James didn't realize what Syren was trying to do (which was rather silly of him, as many of other the women he had dated had to find a way to stretch themselves taller in order to kiss him), until he felt her lips on his cheek. James drew in a small breath, and closed his eyes slowly. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in excitement while performing spectacular, delighted somersaults at the same time. There was a pleasant tingling sensation at the base of his spine. 

The emotions and sensations James went through as he felt Syren's lips caress his cheek were delightful and strong; far stronger than when past women had kissed him. Deep down inside him, he almost wished that she would never withdraw her face from his; that they'd always be this close; that she would always be kissing him on the cheek, and he'd go through the exact same, pleasurable emotions as he did now. But the wish was not granted; soon enough, James could feel Syren's soft lips departing from his cheek. He expected to be disappointed; he wasn't. The fact that Syren had kissed him delighted him; his grin grew; he opened his eyes, which softened with content as he looked down at her.

"How does seven o'clock sound?" Syren asked him. "That way you have time to get things, um...settled at home?"

James nodded without pause. "Sounds good, sounds good. Guess we can meet at the front of the factory, or somethin'," he replied. 

It was a challenge, to keep the excitement from his voice and keeping a look of calm on his face. He had been waiting for this day: this day in which he made plans for a night out on the town with an heiress; this day in which he finally found a woman of prosperity who was more than willing to give him a quick peck on the cheek. It was almost too good to be true. Perhaps James wouldn't have thought of Syren's money so much if he lived in a country where the denizens were happier and more fortunate, but such was not the case. For his entire life, he had been surrounded by misfortune, starvation, and plague, only surviving by a hope that is shared by all people who bear the yoke of poverty: a hope - perhaps even a prayer - for a better life, in which they and their relatives may lie on beds of gold, not of stone. Only James's was slightly different: his included romance and marriage, and when compared to the average poor person's dream of riches and luxury, his was the most elusive. Not only was he expecting too much of the woman in terms of class, he was also demanding of her love and a family. It was hard to find a rich woman in District Five, not to mention one who would immediately fall head over heels for a commoner like James. But James had found her. He was finally looking at a lady of higher standing, a lady who could protect his sisters from disease and hunger; a lady he could love, a lady who could love him back. 

At that moment, James realized he had been staring at her. Immediately, James lowered his gaze to his shoes. "A'right - a'right, well..." James sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils, exhaled, and looked up at her face again. "Guess Ah'll see yah dere - Syren." His grin faltered. He lowered his gaze, hesitated, and then added, "Yah, uh - sorry, s'pose Ah'm kinda cuttin' dis short. It's just - y'know - it's just as you said - gotta 'get things sorted at home', an' stuff." James side-stepped, and moved past her. "G'night, Syren. See yah den."

He plodded a few steps away, then stopped. A great reluctance was causing his heart to lurch angrily, urging him to turn back and look at Syren one last time, before their date began. James hesitated, then slowly turned around, finding himself facing her. He hesitated again. James felt a strange desperation; an urge that kept trying to draw him forward and stand at Syren's side a little longer - perhaps even for eternity. Responsibility and love for his sisters kept him rooted at the spot long enough for him to deliberate whether he should at least say one last thing to her. To take the opportunity and thank her for making his dream a reality. For inspiring hope in him when he was at his grimmest. 

James fidgeted, and creased his brow. After much thought, he took a small step forward, hesitated, took another step forward, and then stopped. He suddenly darted forward, snatching Syren by the arms and pulling her gently inward. James bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers almost politely, their lips caressing tenderly. His kiss was just as soft and light as the one she had laden on his cheek, but his was slightly longer. 

After a few moments, he drew back and released her, letting his hands fall to his sides. James stood silent for a moment, his face blank as his mind fought to process what he had just done. Slowly, his mouth stretched into a small, sheepish grin, though his eyes revealed his pleasure and delight with pride. "Ah hah hah hah - ah hah hah hah." He could hear the nervousness in his laugh, though he knew not why. Was apart of him still wary of the fact that Syren was of blood relations with his boss? James had forgotten about that the moment she kissed his cheek. He gave his head a slight shake, and then said, "Ah hah - sorry, guess Ah thought dat was - kinda necessareh. But, eh. Probubleh wasn't, but - eh." He shrugged his shoulders. He turned on his heels, then looked over his shoulder at Syren. "See yah soon, Syren."

He left her in a haste, suddenly spurred on by a new spurt of energy that affected every muscle and organ in his body. It made him streak through the factory and burst out the front doors, a zany and frankly idiotic grin on his face. Once outside, the crisp night air added to his burst of energy. James glanced around himself, checking to see that no one was around to see him, and began to swing his arms in a circle as he bustled for home. He unconsciously refused to see where he was going; his trail was a zig-zag instead of a straight line, and he staggered over pot-holes and rocks many a time, but once he had regained his footing James would continue onward as if nothing had happened.

As his body moved in hyperactive jerks and spasms, James's mind was racing. He thought of many things: the places he'd take Syren for their date, how'd he describe Syren to the girls (should they wish to hear her about her), what tomorrow would be like. The more he thought, the more restless he grew; for tomorrow felt like an eternity in and of itself.

(ooc: Well, I feel like a sap now. >_> )

[Deleted]

Syren

[/size]
I can see there's so much to learn
It's all so close and yet so far
I see myself as people see me
I just know there's something bigger out there!

Syren somehow maintained eye contacted as James looked down at her without shying away. His eyes, cool and warm at the same time, were so inviting with their. Much unlike her deep blue ones. They seemed to hold her in some kind of trance, making her want him, to be with him, to be his, but she was unsure of how that was possible. She didnt care much for her social standing, being forced by her brother to formal events. She wasnt exactly Miss Social Butterfly but she did try, sometimes, not wanting to be the Life of the Party in the process of not wanting to be the one everyone ignored. Talking to people was hard for her. But... It seemed easy with James, with the warm pools of melted chocolates for eyes. They had shining flecks of gold that made her as molten as they appeared to be. If he had been a girl, and someone she had known for a long time, she'd have died to get out her eye shadows and really make the gold in his eyes pop with reds, browns, and purples along with a thick ring of eye liner. Both good and bad for her, he was definatly male, not swinging the other way because she'd tried that when she was younger and deciding that it wasn't for her, and unfortunatly not being able to make the gold really shine in his wonderfully warm eyes.

Syren was jerked out of her trance as the gold left her gaze, James having a sudden interest in his work boots. Her cheeks flooded with a delicate pink color, the edges fading out into her pale skin. They'd been staring at each other, him breaking away first. She'd been lost in those eyes and she hadn't wanted to be found. Her head nodded slowly as he said his goodbyes, her heart slamming against her petite ribcage so loud that she was sure the pounding was audible from where he was poised. She swallowed the nervous protubence in her throat and took a step toward him, but stopped when he traipsed closer as well. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she stood erect, stock still and nervous as hell as the distance between the pair collapsed slowly and hesitantly on itself. The musky smell of leather filled her nose. Her body leaned foward slightly, taking in the smell that caused her subtle yearning to burst forth into something else, something more passionate. Lust.

James' lips brushed with a softness against hers, pressing into Syren's lips. She could feel their fullness as her mouth molded to fit the shape of his lips. Oh please... never let this end... Her slender hand raised and gently cupped his cheek as they kissed one another, her fingertips carressing the soft locks that made up his hair. His large fingers wrapped around the lean muscles of her arms, gently bringing her closer to him, the space between their bodies still slowly decreasing within the few moments their lips were almost meshed together.

A dismal feeling flooded Syren's system as James pulled away from her sharply and said goodbye for the second time. A somewhat dazed shine in her deep blue eyes as she nodded. "Bye James, I'll see you tomorrow." She could barely keep her thrilled emotions out of her voice as he turned to walk away, looking over his shoulder at her. "See yah soon, Syren.". She practically skipped out of the factory, going the back way to where her car was parked. She'd built it from the ground up, the nonfume-creating car stuttered to life and she sped home, careful of pedestrians. Not many people in the country of Panem could say that they owned another mode of transportation besides their own two feet, but she'd found all the parts and pieced them together in a way that was clean, running on the air itself. She left the vehicle in her large round-about drive way, letting one of the few servants that worked for her, for quite a bit of money, take care of the contraption and park it where it belonged. She raced up the dark polished wooden staircases and slammed open her rather luxorious wardrobe, raiding the clothing in her search for the perfect outfit for tomorrow...

(wow long ass post, anyway time skipety to the next day i guess? XD)

[/justify][/blockquote]

I wanna know!
Can you show me?
I wanna know about these strangers like me
Tell me more, please show me
Something's familiar about these strangers like me

Thoughts:o.o wow wordy
Tagged:TAGGED HERE
Words:WORDS HERE
Clothes:HEY LOOK AN ACTUAL LINK XD
Health:750/750
Hunger:100/100
Damage Done:DAMAGE HERE
Attack:ATTACK HERE
[/center]

[Raeoki]

-A time skip later…-

Funny, how things work out. On the same evening that Syren requested their engagement, James and other factory-workers were permitted to quit the factory early and return to their personal lives (this was set up as a weekly occurrence, to keep workers from striking – a predominant fear in the minds of the disturbingly few private-owned factory owners in Panem). On most days such as this, he’d hurry to Kayla and Bella at full speed; but tonight that was impossible, even if he hadn’t a meeting with Syren. Tonight was Student-Teacher Night, an event held yearly in the nation of Panem, to honor education and the relationship betwixt teacher and pupil; master and slave. It wasn’t much of an event, or so was James’s opinion; it was comparable to being sent to stand in the hallway and await a great bout of scolding and whining from the teacher. But such was the culture of Panem; to make a great, glorified holiday to honor things that didn’t deserve such positive attention. One of these things was teachers; another one was murder.

Good did arise from Student-Teacher Night, however. With Bella and Kayla occupied and surrounded by dependable adult supervision, James could spend the majority of the nightly hours with Syren, without neglecting his dear sisters. He pitied his beloved siblings, of course – James often associated this holiday with memories of aged, satanic Mrs. Rebbertson screeching at him for not working hard enough, and boring, smelly Mr. Leapinnow droning on and on about things James never bothered listening to; so obviously, his heart went out to the pair – but he still felt a great deal of excitement tingling within his chest as he thought of the approaching night. It was a terribly distracting thing as he worked amongst the wires and gears of the factory, but the tingling was still a pleasant and welcomed thing that James refused to contend with. A slightly foolish thing to do, of course; his labor often demanded his full attention, and though James was trained well enough to complete his tasks adequately, he still found himself slipping up. Most of the time, he noticed his mistakes with his own eyes and fixed them swiftly, before his colleagues could notice. Every now and again, however, James would be lost in his own thoughts and dreams, and one of the other workers would remark:

“‘Ay, Dirk – yah missed somethin’.” The fellow would then go on to point out James’s mistakes.

“Ah – ah, yah. Sorry ‘bout dat.”

As James hurried to correct his error, his colleague would usually go on to make some snarky and/or petty remark (as was how the factory workers often treated one another), something along the lines of: “Looks to me like yah got yer ‘ead in dah clouds, Dirk. ‘Ope yah don’t lose yer job, by dah way yer goin’.” If one had merely listened to the words, one would have thought it something to simply ignore; but if one had noticed the sarcasm in the fellow’s voice and had seen the smirk on his face, a jolt of indignation would have surely passed through him.

James would simply grunt, “Shuddap,” and the colleague would be off, sometimes snickering, depending on the person.

When the whistle bellowed out its loud, hoarse voice, declaring that it was time for the workers to be off, James felt such a tremendous thrill that he was paralyzed for a moment, his feet seemingly magnetized to the floor. The time had come at last for Syren Jones and James Dirk to meet beneath the shadow of the very factory of which they both labored in. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, until it speeded up to a point where James thought it would burst from his chest. Suddenly, he regained the ability to move, and burst from his spot, darting to the locker room at a remarkable speed – the very locker room that Syren and he had come across one another, in fact. James hurried to his locker, weaving his way around the figures of undressed and barely dressed men, who in their nakedness showed the marks of depravation and labor. Scars from career-involved accidents and punishments dealt by Peacekeepers ran white and jagged on the men’s bodies, the former usually being found on their limbs, the latter often times being discovered on their backs. James could glance at many of his fellow male workers and count the ribs that protruded grotesquely from their torsos, and quiver with pity as he observed how slender and stick-like their appendages appeared. Such sights of hunger often startled James, though he knew the cursed feeling of having an empty, demanding stomach as well as any of the other men there; but noticing hunger often brought questions to his mind: Now, is District 5 really that poor? I mean, we’re one of the middle districts. We CAN’T be that bad off! If things are so bad here, I shudder to think what’s goin’ on down in places like Twelve. I mean, the lower the number, the hungrier the district, right? At least, that’s what it feels like, if yah look at Twelve’s and the other lower district tributes closely during the Games. The ones from places like Eleven are skeletons, compared to the tributes from here. But, if that’s the case, then what’s it like in the upper districts? How bad off are they?

Then James would be reminded that most of the workers here were from the poorer parts of District Five, and reassurance soothed him, though he did feel slightly foolish for forgetting; but when one sees the marks of poverty on fellow human-beings, one cannot help but feel that all hope is lost, and forget that not every corner of the world was filled with darkness.

Presently, James stood before his locker, which he had now opened. He snatched the clothes that he usually reserved for formal events, such as the Reaping, and changed swiftly. James felt that he was pressed for time, as it was around 6:50 P.M. – approximately ten minutes before the clock struck seven – and James wanted to be early; that way, he would have the assurance that he hadn’t arrived late. The work he had accomplished that morning hadn’t required him to crawl on his belly through greasy machinery, so a shower was not necessary – a rather fortunate thing indeed, as that would have certainly wasted precious minutes of James’s time. However, James did feel the urge to wash his hands and face. Now fully dressed, James slammed his locker shut and hurried to one of the faucets that lined the walls of the locker. It let out a small squeal of protest as James turned it on, and scalding hot (the faucets apparently refused to produce cold or even lukewarm temperatures) water came gushing from its spout. He thrust his hands beneath the running faucet, ignoring the stinging pain of hot water touching flesh, and washed his hands furiously. Once James was satisfied, he brought the sides of his hands together, forming almost a bowl as he filled his hands with water and splashed his face.

After rubbing a clean rag across his face and hands to dry them, he bolted out of the locker room and streaked for the exit of the factory. James’s spirits and energy were surprisingly high that evening; very rarely did James feel the need to run so quickly and grin so widely, unless he was in the company of his sisters. Not even when he went on dates with other women did James rush to meet them so ardently. Syren Jones truly had an effect on him, and if James wasn’t in such a rush, he would have noticed his strange feelings and be surprised by them. No one that was not a member of the Dirk family had ever brought him such an intense and expressive desire to be around them.

The reason behind his enthusiasm was not Syren’s status, was it? Heavens no; Syren’s wealth hadn’t been brought to his mind once since he had quitted the factory last night. The reason by the pauper’s joy was that his queen was not just a queen, but also a woman of lovely personality and countenance, of which James found himself trapped and attracted to, and the very thought of Syren urged James’s feet to move faster.

It was 6:58 when James bounded past the heavy steel doors of the factory, and trotted down the three stone steps that led up to the doorway. He walked a few paces onward, and then stopped. James turned around, and tossed his head back, his eyes meeting with the face of a small, black clock that hung over the pair of doors. There was a small pause that seemed to drag on for hours in James’s mind. He swiftly grew restless; he fidgeted and shuffled side-to-side as the hands on the clock’s face remained perfectly still. Suddenly, the minute hand twitched; it was now 6:59. Almost on cue, the doors swung open, and the entire ensemble of factory workers filed out as one great, massive crowd. They bustled past James, some avoiding him as if he had contracted a horrible disease, others bumping their heavy, sagging shoulders against his; these people would jostle him a little, but before one could blink he’d make a slight side-step, and he would be standing at his original place once again. The majority of the men and women of the factory were silent; every now and again they’d mumble to themselves something that James couldn’t make out, but aside from that, very little chatter rose from the mass of mechanics and operators. The mass of people passed him by as quietly, simply, and swiftly.

James glanced up at the clock; the evening’s seventh hour had arrived while the mob of people had come filing out. James’s back stiffened, and he stretched himself up to his full, large height; James felt his heart quicken. He stared at the clock, seemingly expecting Syren to pop through its face.

Every now and again, a worker that had moved too slowly to join the crowd would burst through the doors and rush out. James barely paid attention to them, but their presence was still noted. As he stared at the clock, excitement slowly waned into anxiety. Though the clock’s hands had remained perfectly motionless, an hour seemed to have already past in James’s mind. He fidgeted under the strain of worry and nervousness, and began to glance around himself. Where is she? Is she alright? Did she mean seven o’clock on the dot? Did she expect me to be a little later? Did I mishear her?

Worry was swiftly mounting, gaining control of his mind and actions. James turned his back on the door, his gaze darting to and fro in search for her. He contorted his mouth around; his mind raced. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and with some slight hesitance, called out: “Syren?”

(ooc: Yeah, this...isn't my best. Dx Sorry that the ending's kinda confusing, and most apologies for any typos at the end; I didn't have enough time to proof-read it. x( But anyway...sorry for making you wait. DDDx )

[Deleted]

Syren was running a tad late. There. She admitted it, but she was adamant about arriving at the front of the factory on time. She'd had to finish her work early and haul herself out of a grease covered machine, covering her skin and hair in muck before her brother let her leave work early. Doing so had made her do twice as much work in a day and she'd accomplished the feat in a single afternoon. Currently the time said 6:30 and she was just then toweling off from her shower, the steam billowing out from the open bathroom door. She had to rush and she new it. After towel drying her auburn hair, she shed the one around her waist and pulled on her underwear. Her eyes flickered over the mirror as she headed for her closet, glancing over her pale skin that was now desmudged and soft from her body wash. Slight curving slopes gave shade to her thin frame as she slipped into a small black dress that flowed like water over her skin. The soft satin was tight around her waist and hips and loose around her chest and thighs, allowing movement while looking like a date at the same time. It was almost Greek in the way it was cut. She applied her make up dark around her pale eyes, making them more noticeable and painting her lips with a soft pink stain.

It was already 6:45. She had to leave or she'd be late. Syren quickly pulled the side of her hair where it parted back with a deep red flower clip. Grabbing her purse and spraying a clean scented body spray on her skin, she walked out the door. Her slender hands scrunched her quickly drying hair in the chilled air that surrounded everything that night. She ended up with soft waves framing her face, shoulders and upper arms before they were cut short just under her breasts. She rounded the corner of the factory to see James standing just outside the door. Her ears picked up her name being called. "Syren?".

"I'm here James." Syren breathed a sigh of relief as she walked up to the spot beside him, her head tilted back to look up at him with a smile. "Hi there." Nervousness danced inside her stomach as her hand found his. It was rough and calloused from the hard labour of the factory, but she didn't mind. Hers weren't much better off any how. "Ready?"

[Raeoki]

A voice James recognized to be Syren’s resonated from the right of him. Though James’s mind did process the voice to be Syren’s, she still had taken him by surprise, and by instinct he turned around sharply to face her. He looked down; there stood Syren, smiling up at him pleasantly. “ Hi there.”

James fought the sudden and intense to urge laugh aloud. Not at Syren, of course; more at himself than anything else. It was just slightly funny, how all that worrying earlier had come to nothing; and a strange part of James had always found irony to be amusing. James was a little glad he hadn’t been forced to go through the suspense of waiting for Syren for long; then he would have certainly started to chortle at himself for being such a worrying fool, and what would Syren think of him then, laughing at something wasn’t immediately apparent? After all, it was the first date; impressions meant everything on a first date. The meeting was just one simple prologue that held no real importance whatsoever – just something funny and romantic to share with the children, should a couple be fortunate enough to last and have a few – except, of course, the actual meeting. First date meant first chapter, and romance was like a book; if the first chapter was boring and/or irritating in whatever way, then there wasn’t much point in continuing to read the book. The initial book, now despised, was tossed aside and ignored forever; another one would be sought for. Such was love – or, at the very least, courtship.

Now that the urge to laugh at himself was gone, he turned his attention onto Syren, his countenance brightening and softening as he softly smiled back at her. His gaze travelled down from her face and onto her dress. For a moment, his eyes lit up in surprise, before he mentally rebuked himself and the emotion left his face. He should have known that Syren would wear something he would never be able to afford in a day in his life. After all, she was the sister of a factory owner, one of the richest people in the district - why shouldn’t she find the money and time to wear dresses from satin? Yet – yet James still found it a little startling, to be facing a female dressed in satin, when he was so used to women dressed in simple and practical homespun. A part of him hoped that the satin wasn’t from silk; no one in District 5 could be that rich; after all, it was just puny, mostly middle-class District 5 – not a poor district, but certainly not a rich one, either. Then again, Syren certainly wasn’t a member of the majority. Maybe it is made of silk… James wasn’t sure why, but a part of him was disheartened by this prospect.

She slipped her soft, warm hands into his, and thoughts of satin and silk immediately flew from his mind. James looked up at her face again; his grin grew. “Ready?” Syren asked.

His heart leapt with excitement. “As I’ll ever be,” James replied with a polite nod. He then gestured to her dress, and added with a small laugh, “Feelin’ a lil’ underdressed, d’ough.”

In comparison to Syren, James did look slightly undignified. His apparel was rough, as it was sown from undignified cloth, and had to have been fixed of tears and rips many a time. Syren, however, was lovely and regal looking enough that looked as if she had stepped straight from the fantastic world of the Greek gods; a mortal Nyx in her own right.

(ooc: Okay – this post is really short and really lame and…sorry. DDx I think my muse is dying. Dx I’m really sorry!!)

[Deleted]

Syren

[/size]
I can see there's so much to learn
It's all so close and yet so far
I see myself as people see me
I just know there's something bigger out there!

Syren felt her stomach flutter with nervousness as James said he felt underdressed. She cracked a shaky smile. "Don't. I tend to feel over dressed most of the time. Then again I usually am." she gave a small laugh and Looked up at James with her clear blue eyes. "So where are we headed?"

[/justify][/blockquote]

I wanna know!
Can you show me?
I wanna know about these strangers like me
Tell me more, please show me
Something's familiar about these strangers like me

Thoughts:sorry it's so short >_> I'm on my phone.
Tagged:TAGGED HERE
Words:WORDS HERE
Clothes:HEY LOOK AN ACTUAL LINK XD
Health:750/750
Hunger:100/100
Damage Done:DAMAGE HERE
Attack:ATTACK HERE
[/center][/quote]

[Raeoki]

James couldn’t help but smile a little as Syren’s mouth stretched into a shaky grin; his smile grew wider as she spoke. That was sweet of her, shrugging off the seeable differences of classes in their clothing and turning his comment into an almost self-deprecating joke. Then again, Syren seemed like a sweet lady. It was a pity that the members of her class were often stereotyped as being greedy and cruel. James had never thought that was fair, and had often found himself feeling offended for the members of the upper-class when he heard such tales – or other mentioning’s of this characterization - evil and miserly rich men who took pleasure in looking meanly down their long, hooked noses at poor orphan children. After all, James dreamed of becoming a member of the aristocracy; and though he wouldn’t be surprised if this dream turned out to be futile, he still found himself already considering himself a member of the higher-class. It was, admittedly, a highly ambitious and overoptimistic fantasy, but do not judge him. James was far too much of a dreamer and far too hopeful for his own good; and when a man is overfilled with dreams and hopes, very little can kill the mammoth-sized and wistful desires that occupy his mind.

If the relationship between Syren and James lasted (which James truly hoped to be the case) to the point where they introduced one another to their families, then James had a feeling that Kayla and Bella would enjoy Syren’s presence; in fact, a part of him knew they would. They’d like her; maybe even more than he did.

"So where are we headed?" she asked him.

James’s head jerked back for a moment, and glanced to his right; during his wait for her, he had almost forgotten the locations he had selected for their outing. James’s gaze darted back to Syren’s face, and immediately, the names of the places and their locations flew back to his memory. A large grin lit up his countenance, and he replied, “Ah, well, ‘bout dat – I was plannin’ on takin’ yah to dis park and to dis restaurant dat I dake mah sisters to on special occasions – y’know, fer birthdays? You can decide which one tah go to first, d’ough. I d’ought dat would be dah gentlemanly d’ing tah do.” He shrugged. “If yer ‘ungry, we can go eat first, but if yah’re not, we kin go to dah park first, basically. It’s all up to you.”

He looked away from her, and extended his hand towards her. He set his hand gently on her shoulder, preparing to lead her away from the factory. “You’ll like dah restaurant; don’ ask me why I know, I just do. It’s a fun place. I mean, not so much in dah A.M., but right now – it must be swingin’ in dere. It’s kind of a dance ‘all, yah see. Ah take a peek through the windows while Ah’m walkin’ ‘ome, an’ Ah see all dese people just losin’ demselves and havin’ fun. Hell, sometimes Ah’m ‘alf-tempted to go in myself. Course Ah don’t, but…”

James stopped talking for a moment. He tossed his back, gazing up at the sky. Night had crept in, the stars and the moon poking round holes of light in the inky black blanket that covered the sky. There were no clouds to hide it; the night was there, pure and clear, for all to behold and be held in awe of it. The stars were twinkling happily; the moon was full and glowing silver. It was lovely. It had been like that for a week now – which was odd, for District 5 was often times a rather cloudy, gray, forlorn place, and James was rather bewildered to find that the sky could be so untainted for so long. He blinked slowly, his eyes softening and growing wistful. “Ah really wanna show you dat park sometime, d’ough,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her. “It really is nice out, yah see, and I bet it looks better out d’ere, where dere ain’t any buildings.”

His wiry body flinched suddenly; as it had occurred to him how long he had been speaking and how many words he had spoken. James laughed aloud, slightly embarrassed at his rudeness. “Ah hah! Sorry. Didn’t realize that I was bein’ such a chatterbox tahnight. Dunno wut got intah me.” He nudged her softly, affectionately. “Aftah all, it’s your opinion that counts.”

(ooc: Sorry for making you wait so long, Kates. Dx And sorry for the shortness, to.)

[Deleted]

Syren

[/size]
I can see there's so much to learn
It's all so close and yet so far
I see myself as people see me
I just know there's something bigger out there!

Syren found herself looking up at the stars. It was a clear and beautiful night, warm with low humidity and a slight breeze that lifted her wavy hair fromm time to time. The park sounded like a nice place, good for privacy since no one was at the park after sunset. Although, the resturaunt, more of a club by the way it sounded, would be fun to go to as well. She blinked for a moment, coming to the realization that they'd stoped walking. An intersection lay just a few feet away, thhe park to her left, a crowded block to her right where music echoed through the buildings. She turned to face him, her slender hand sliding into his. "How about we go to the resturaunt, and then the park afterword?"

That actually sounded like a good idea to Syren. They could eat then maybe dance, afterword cool off at the park, and maybe... just maybe she'd invite him to her house. She wanted him to see her for what she really was, not just an heiress but someone who was mostly alone, able to take care of herself, and well... other things. All that depended on how the night went.

[/blockquote]

I wanna know!
Can you show me?
I wanna know about these strangers like me
Tell me more, please show me
Something's familiar about these strangers like me

Thoughts:
Tagged:TAGGED HERE
Words:WORDS HERE
Clothes:click!
Health:750/750
Hunger:100/100
Damage Done:DAMAGE HERE
Attack:ATTACK HERE
[/center]

[Raeoki]

She had made him a wise decision; it was always of his opinion that dinner should come first, as no one wanted to go through half of a date starving. That would completely kill the mood, in James's opinion. He nodded his head curtly and decisively, to show his willing consent. "Right."

Before she had voiced her decision, Syren had extended her hand and enfolded it softly around James's. He glanced down at it for a short moment, to admire it; to mentally note how thin it was, in comparison to his. James couldn't help but think about what his father would like tell him back when he still breathed; that hands revealed much about their respective masters. He supposed that he was right about that; after all, it didn't take much to realize that the very lady whose hand James held was living proof of that theory. Syren's hands were fair and petite; but James knew they were capable; he wouldn't have discovered her slick with machine oil if she didn't hold the certainty that she was able to wriggle inside the steel contraption and fiddle with it properly. Hands tell a lot about a person, he mused. James's gaze darted from Syren's hands and then to her face. A whole lot. His grasp on Syren's tightened, but not so much that he would cause her discomfort.

"Right!" he declared, turning sharply. "Less go!"

James led her onward, a bright smile on his face. He kept his eyes on the sidewalk, to make sure he didn't lead her (or himself) into some pothole or bring her straight into some rock for her to trip over. Though the night was beautiful, it was terribly dark, and blackness had settled in, as obscure as a dense fog. Fortunately, street-lamps had been set every five yards; however, they gave very little light; simply small orbs of illumination in the murky black, barely revealing the ground beneath their feet. District 5 was only allowed to use candles for their street-lamps, as the Capitol harnessed all of District Five's energy for themselves; for Panem is a selfless and honest country, practically destroying the bodies of its people as they toiled earnestly to create as fine resources as they could, only to watch with satisfied grins as a kind-hearted government who obviously needed it more than they did snatch their products from their hands.

As they stepped beneath one of these street-lights, James took his eyes from the ground for a moment and looked around himself. They had an older section of District 5 that was mostly inhabited by the district's poorer residents; the Dirk family being one of these inhabitants. The restaurant was also in this section, and James could tell by looking at the buildings and other landmarks that they were nearing the street that the establishment was on at a rapid pace. As James continued to look at the buildings, it occurred to him for the first time how run-down they were. Some had been abandoned for years, and their walls were slowly collapsing and deteriorating, creating holes and cracks of all shapes and sizes into their exterior. Many of the buildings had become so worn that they were beginning to lean, threatening to collapse under their own weight.

Looking at the buildings surrounding them made James think of the restaurant he was leading her to. Though the building wasn't as broken and feeble as the brick shells of the ones surrounding Syren and James, the restaurant wasn't very strong and elegant in design, either. It was rectangular and sagged a little; the paint of the interior (which had been reportedly green when it was first applied) had become a dusty gray color with a green hue; the floor was wood and creaked beneath people's feet as they danced; and one thing was wincingly apparent: the restaurant had been built by the poor, for the poor. The people who didn't understand plush, velvet-colored carpeting (or perhaps understood, but were not used to it); the members of society who had too little to be picky about where they had their fun.

Syren wasn't one of those people, however. She could afford the finer things in life, so obviously she was accustomed to the finer things in life. Would she mind the atmosphere? A part of James doubted that would be so; after all, Syren hadn't seemed to pay much thought to his rather wearied formal apparel, and James hadn't received any vibe that she was hiding an intense disgust; still, another part of him couldn't help but worry. Their knowledge of one another was making itself wretchedly self-evident now; and their separation of classes made it even worse. 

James creased his brow, and scowled. Goddammit, why didn't I think of asking her what she would like before we left each other yesterday? Now I'm gonna make a fool of myself and her...goddammit!

He pressed his lips together, and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. James figured that he might as well ask her now; though he wished that the timing was better. His lips parted, and he let out an inaudible sigh. 

"Syren?" James asked, forcing any hints of frustration and weariness out of his voice, and making it light and pleasant. "Wha' do yah like? I mean, yah got any favorite d'ings or whatevah?"

(ooc: Yeah, it...really fizzles out at the end. Sorry. Dx I was being pressured to get off by my parents. x( Apologies for any typos; again, I was being forced off by my parents, and I didn't have enough time. Sorry! D: )

[Deleted]

Syren looked around the resturaunt thoughtfully. She'd never been inside, but she'd always wanted to. Compared to her hidy hole home, this place could be considered dingy. The paint was grey and hinted at what was once probably green, the floor was a rouge uneven clay tile; almost like brick but it wasn't. The table clothes had begun to yellow with age and the people inside had a sort of grimness set into their faces even if they were smiling. She decided she liked the place immediatly. Her shoes clicked softly on the clay as they made their way to a table for two and given a pair of menus. She gave a polite and quiet 'thank you' to the waiter, and set the menu down on the table cloth. She leaned forward on her elbows slightly as James asked her a question. "Hmm? Oh yes. Well I like to read... and erm... well I like to tinker with things. Make repairs on electronics and... umm... funny I cant really think of much at the moment."

Syren silently cursed herself, it seemed to her that she didnt really know herself at all. She cleared her throat quietly. "But what about you?"

[Deleted]

*next day- just after the lunch break*

Syren was kneeling down at the top of one of the machienes, repairing it. Her mind wasn't focused on her work though, instead she thought about her date the night before. She'd really had a good time with James. They ate first, the food had been good, then they danced until she literally couldnt stand anymore. Her legs were still sore that afternoon. Lastly they'd strolled through the park too cool off. Afterward, he had walked her home, and she kissed him for what felt like an eternity, yet no time at all at the same time. She was grinning like a fool, James had really stolen her heart. She almost wished she'd let him into her house for the night...

Syren shook her head, immersed in her own thoughts, when suddenly the wrench she was holding slipped from her grasp. She lunged forward to try and catch the tool, only to slip into the machiene, kicking the on switch. She tumbled down, down, down, hitting still slow moving parts until she crashed to the bottom. She gasped for air, the wind knocked out of her, as the giant fan above her moved faster and faster until she could see right through it. The giant metal blades sucking the air upward, making it harder to breath. The inside of the machiene began to glow with radiation. The exposed skin on her face and arms began to tingle, and sting. She curled into a ball and tried to protect her face from the radiation.

[Raeoki]

“Have yah seen Dirk today?”

“Nah. Wassup wit’ ‘im?”

“He’s actin’ like a machine. It’s weirdin’ me out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What do yah think’s up wit’ ‘im?”

“Beats me. Didn’t we get out early last night?”

“Yup.”

“Huh. D’ose are usually da days when he gets laid.”

“How can yah tell?”

“Yah just can.” The worker – a broad, leathery-fleshed man – shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Yah just can tell, by the way he acts.” His lips twitched, and his eyes became narrowed and darkened by a scornful amusement. “Like a douche.” (Which was more-or-less not true; for though James did have a tendency to roam the factory with a triumphant, almost superior, glint in his eyes, he did not exactly exert his will or ego upon them.)

The other worker, who was older, and had wide eyes that always gave him a rather stunned air, tilted his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yah!” A corner of the first fellow’s lips pulled itself up, forming his thin mouth into a supercilious smirk, and he added with a dry snicker: “Maybe da lil’ a-hole finally got spurned last night, yah know?”

The dialogue between them – though crude and disparaging – was quite true. Not once in his life had James been so diligent and efficient in his work. By nature, he was a good worker; however, as it is the curse of humanity, he was still quite fallible, and thus errors and incongruities in his work were to be expected. However, on this day, James was – as the first man had described him as – a machine; a thing with only one purpose, one overall design: to work and produce. He did not think of Syren, though she had haunted his dreams last night and had flitted before his eyes as he fed Kayla and Bella breakfast; when he entered the factory, there was no Syren, nor was there a James; there was no world; no sisters; only the task at hand. They would be there when he retired from his work, when he could afford to think of them; when the factory was behind him, not around him, and no longer demanding of his attention and soul. Then he would think of them – Syren especially.

Last night had been different for him. First dates often began on the threshold of the lady’s home, and – depending on how well the middle went – ended in the lady’s quarters. From thence, the appeal of either individual took a steep and rapid decline, till they forgot about one another almost completely, only to be shortly reminded by very swift glimpses of one another days afterwards. However, in the case of last night, the date proceeded beneath the shadow of a factory, and ended at Syren’s threshold, and did not go any farther. When this had occurred to James as he had plodded from Syren’s home and towards his own, he found himself in a state of hesitation, while also of hopeful expectation: it almost worried him, that they did not go past some kissing (which had been delightful, of course, but still worrisome), for he knew that the possibility to go farther had made itself very evident as their lips met. However, James could not help but feel encouraged; for the emotional and physical attraction to her was still so very clear, and hugged his mind and heart as tightly and warmly as a sloth’s glorious embrace. For many of his past relationships had ended quickly, usually the morning after, for the appeal had been flattened and killed; quite different than the appeal that he felt for Syren, and he preferred to think – to believe – perhaps know - that she felt for him as well.

It was when he was bustling across a catwalk, with hulking mammoths of metal and steel glaring at him from either side, that the alarms went off. They released a loud, very bass cry of alarm that sounded off repeatedly, with only less than half a second between each blast of noise. The white lights that had illuminated the factory became a blood red; before James could blink, everything in the factory was now a blazing shade of gules: the machines; the thick concrete walls; his own flesh had been new-dyed, and gave him an appearance that he had obtained a very serious and rather horrific skin condition.

The moment the first cry of the alarms had reverberated all throughout the factory and into James’s ears, his feet stopped suddenly, so that the upper portion of his body lurched forward slightly. He paused; looked to the right; then over his shoulder; he twisted his head around and tilted it back, so that he could see on the ceiling the cup-shaped light that now pulsated the red glow. James merely stood there, for that was all that he could do; a red light (obviously) signaled a sincere and terrible emergency, not just some hapless fellow had gotten his limbs caught in some contraption; and not once had the factory-workers been drilled – or even instructed – on what to do in such earnest situations. And James’s mind was still in the void that had turned him into a machine, and machines could not go beyond into a realm of independence; they needed to be guided by higher matter, if they wished to work.

Fortunately, the second worker that had been introduced earlier was there, standing on the side opposite to James, and he knew what to do, for he had once worked at a nationalized factory, where accidents of this nature were surprisingly frequent. He rushed to James from behind, and his hand fell on his shoulders, clasping around it; he then jerked his hand forward and back, James’s shoulder moving with it. Immediately, the moment of machine-esque stupidity had ended; James whirled around, and looked upon the older worker, his brows knitted together in complete confusion and his mouth forming a small “o” – a very human expression. The other fellow gave James another shake, just to make sure he would not relapse, and cried out, his voice competing with the alarm’s bellow: “Somethin’s happened to da nukes!” (“Nukes” being the loving term for the reactors there.) “C’mon, Dirk! We gotta go! Move! What’s da matter wit’ yah? Move!”

(ooc: Ugh...this post...sucks. Sorry, Kates. DDDDx )

[Draco Malfoy]

Syren immense heat on the tops of her shoulders as she sat against the wall of the machine with her face buried between her knees. How could she have been so immensly stupid? The one time she didnt tie herself to the railing she fell in, but then again that rope was so aged that it probably wouldnt have held up her weight in the first place. She should have remembered and follow protocalls and had someone with her then someone would have known she had fallen in. But surely someone on the catwalks must have seen her slip right? That was the only way she could have gotten to the top of the reactor in the first place and lifted the panel to do a minor repair job that should have only taken a few moments. The immense heat made it increasingly difficult to breath along with the fan sucking the air from around her. Her breathing had gone shallow and rapid, a feeble attempt to get enough oxygen to the brain. If she hadnt of been so damn distracted and dazed, none of this would have happened, but she didnt regret the actions of the night before. Those had been marvelous and she wouldnt dare regret them even though she may have very well been dying because of them. She had never let James come in past her doorway. She almost wished she had, but she knew what that would involve. Maybe that had been his intentions but the thought of the intimacy terrified her as much as it did when she was a teenager. Maybe she should have been ready for sex by now, she was 24 after all. Her mind drifted to what it would be like to have James's body covering her like a bedsheet.

Syren shivered at the thought but jolted herself out of her own thoughts, ridiculous thoughts for being in situation such as hers. Distantly, she could hear the faint siren call of the alarm, insinuating that something had gone terribly wrong. She could hear the muffled shouting and banging of metel on metal, like steel boots pounding along the catwalk. Someone might be coming to save her right? No... she doubted anyone had seen her fall. She hadnt seen anyone on those catwalks before she fell so why would anyone be there after she had looked away? 

Pain suddenly peirced through her forhead as she rubbed her face into her fore arms the wrong way. Her head lifted momentarily to find her skin dyed red from the low lighting and a black liquid dripping onto her arms. Blood. She must have gotten a nasty gash when she hit the fan, funny how she never even realized it had happened until then. She shrugged off her needless thoughts and ignored the pain as she returned to her position, knowing there was nothing she could do except wait for imminent death from radiation...

[Raeoki]

It had never once occurred to James that, someday, he would enter the factory and never return. It was probably one of the most realistic nightmares a factory-worker could ever have, but it was the hardest and most reluctant thing to be touched upon by one's imagination. It was a secret to be buried within the elusive subconscious; the awareness and the fear to be cloaked in general acknowledgement that men have been maimed by the varying machines that he handled, and never once had been led to the true, seeable outskirts of his mind. And thus James had never thought of it, till at that moment, as he ran along the catwalks.

Scarlet had flooded the entirety of the factory. The scream of precaution was inescapable, and filled James’s brain till it ached, making it nigh impossible to think, but wretchedly easy to feel: to feel fear, to feel death, to feel pain, to feel the necessity to flee; the instincts and feelings that mindless beasts are only capable of knowing when predators are upon them. It was disorienting, to transition from robot, from human, to animal, and this jerk-like shift of mindsets had made the instincts and sensations more realistic and blatant than they should have been. To add to the animalistic cocktail, the reactors – the very things that had stirred such Cain within the factory – heaved their massive and bulky bodies on either sides of the catwalk that he and his fellow worker crossed. With the blood-colored light flashing upon them and new-dying them, they seemed like a blood-lusting gods, standing over a pair of vulnerable and fragile mortals, and mocked them with hateful eyes as they attempted flight, to avoid their unexplainably awesome wrath.

As James looked upon them, his smarting brain dared to raise questions: Da Hell’s goin’ on? Then came the realization of death, which made his guts shudder and become wintery within their vessel. Shit, are we screwed no matter what we do? Kayla and Bella…are we…are they…goddamn it, this sucks! Wonder how’s Syren’s doin’…better than me, probably…I hope…

It was with these thoughts that humanity flickered into James’s being again. Death became not a thing that could be fled, but could be repelled; to reason mingled with the ability to feel once again; to observe and to process the sights for the sake of exploitation became an ability once more. And, because of the return of these talents, he glimpsed (in the sense that he could process and reason it’s purpose and origin, not just only see it and stash it away in his memory banks) as he was passing, out of the corner of his eye, a fairly thick sheet of metal that stood erect on the top of one of the reactors. The acknowledgement of this flared in his mind, with such suddenness and violence that it forced him to skid to a halt; the messenger of the baneful news almost ran into him as he did, but managed to stop himself by grabbing on the railing of the catwalk with both hands. “Dirk, yah dumbass!” he cried out, more out of alarm than in anger. “What da Hell are yah-”

James whirled about, with the same speed of a top when it spins; there was an intensity and stone-like hardness in his gaze that was not muffled one bit by the redness that currently stained his face, and it muted the worker for a moment. James proceeded to move towards him, muttering a quick and impolite order to move; the worker promptly did so, as if he had been waiting to do so for a rather long time.

He side-stepped, and twisted his body about to watch James; stood silently as he moved for the reactor; only noticed the opened lid when James started climbing atop the reactor. The forever-stunned worker paled, and he breathed a curse. “Dirk – yah think?”

James had placed one foot on the railing of the catwalk, his hands and one of his knees on the flank of the reactor; he held onto the lip of the reactor with his hands, and lifted himself atop it in a yank-kick action. The moment he was on it, he saw the switch, flipped into its position of activation. It gave him some pause, for a state of dumbed disbelief had settled in and blanked his brain; a refusal came over him, to believe and to understand the sudden realization of the fragility of fortune and life. He did reach out for the switch, but in a gradual and hesitant way, as if he feared that the switch would transform into a poisonous serpent and inject his hand with its venom. It did no such thing; James paused to pray that it wouldn’t be easy to pull into the deactivation position: his heart shuddered as he gave it a quick, entirely effortless jerk, and the switch slid gracefully off.

Perhaps he should have learned it when his parents died – that death and suffering are the easiest things that a person could fall into. Perhaps he had deluded himself into thinking such things; because then it would mean that the world was an evil and vile place, where men could not even dare dream of being a member of the aristocracy, for there never was such a thing as an “aristocracy” – just a band of men and women who were a few bucks more comfortable than the majority of society. And James had always been an optimist; a dreamer; an oblivious and delusional idiot – why would he have the gall to condemn Earth to such banes and plagues?

It is an unfortunate fact of life that these aforementioned adjectives used to describe James Dirk are fragile and airy words that are so easily shattered by small things that spawn mammoth realizations. The small thing being, in this case, the easy turn of a switch; the mammoth realization that, because of the simplicity and nonresistance of the switch’s tug, someone’s life could have very well been ruined – that someone’s body might have been very well deformed and bastardized by the cruelties of the reactor. And with that realization came forth another: that things of that sort could very well easily happen to anybody, such as innocent Kayla, with the same effortlessness. James didn’t bother to resist the shudder that then consumed and vibrated his body for an instant.

The other factory worker snapped his grim and vile revelation. “It was on, wasn’t it?”

James’s body jerked back slightly; he turned away from the switch, and his eyes flashed, as a signal that his mind had returned to the matter at hand, as he looked down upon the fellow. “Ah…” His voice, initially, was husky with stupidity; as he continued, it became lighter as his brain sopped up intelligence again. “Yeah.”

“Crap!” the worker spat through gnashed teeth. “Check’n’see if someone’s d’ere, ahright?”

James hesitated; his face, at that moment, had gone pale (which, fortunately for his reputation, was not visible in the red aura), for it had occurred to him what he might glimpse as he peered into the reactor. However, James was not a man who cared to dabble in fear, and he forced his head to turn about and look into the opening of the reactor. It was slightly difficult to see, however, for the reactor was quite deep, and the red light made it difficult to differentiate the color of flesh from the color of metal; and James was very much reluctant to stick his head within it. So, for the sake of compensation, he bellowed into it, forcing his voice to be as loud as the alarm (or at least fairly close to its noise level): “‘AY!”

(ooc: Well, at least she's no longer being microwaved...

Yay! Progress!!!)

[Draco Malfoy]

Syren lifted her head sharply as the whirring of the fan above her slowed to a crawl, then a stop. The could se a faint patch of red light above her and the silhouette of a very familiar looking man. The sound of his voice echoed through the massive chambers but it blended softly with the raging sound of the alarm in her ears.

"HELLO?" Her cries were barely heard in her own ears. If only the alarms would shut off. She settled back down miserably and looked down at her arms, pale in the darkness with black patches on her skin. Surely there was something that could be done to get her out alive? She shifted uncomfortably as the object digging into her back registered. She reached behind her and gripped a round object, pulling out from behind her back and thumbing the short ridge. Light blossomed in her face, blinding her with its starkness. Relief flooded through her as she saw that the black patches on her skin were merely pink splotches showing the signs of the radiation just beginning to hit her but with the reactor shut off then it would have stopped.

Syren looked up as the white beam stretched to the top of the reactor. Maybe the men up top could see it. She flipped the flashlight on and off, on and off, on and off, the light flickering in the darkness. It was her beacon, her way out, maybe shhe would live through this after all. Soon enough, the light sputtered out with a wasted battery. She flung the light into the wall behind her and it sputtered back to life as the dull sound reverberated throughout the reactor. She repeated the noise making several times until her out flashlight broke in her palm.

"HEEEYYYYY!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Syren's voice was rough with pain and effort as she screamed, begging for freedom from the reactors depths. "CAN ANYONE HEAR ME? I NEED TO GET OUT!" Tears choked her throat as the realization struck her that no one would hear her. She was going to die inside the reactor because they were going to leave her there. There was supposed to be some kind of protocal if something like this were to occur but the instructions had been so worn down and rusted that no one knew what they said anymore.

Innapropriate timing, but the memories of the night before dazzled her again. "James...", the name whispered across her lips like a secret. That secret being the man that had wormed his way through his head so that even in dire situations she could not stop thinking of him. His charms had warmed her heart from the ice like walls she surrounded herself with. She'd been alone for so long and now she'd been thrust into a world whole and new. A world that was full of colour and strange from her day to day life, the rut she was stuck in. James had showed her what life could be like without even trying. He had showed her what it was like to actually have a life full of friendship and other people effecting one's own life. Everything was different because of him and now she would never be able to thank him. Never be able to see him again, never be able to touch him and feel his body against her.

She wanted out so badly, wanted to live from this incident, wanted to be happy maybe with James even. She wanted to feel her lips brush his like the night before. She wanted to feel his arms around her like the night before as well, his large hands had touched her gently despite the callouses. She wanted to be with him because she was so alone in her big house with no one but the workers there to keep her company. She wanted so many things and was so young to die without having yet lived her life. She hadnt even felt the sweet relief of intamacy with a man, hadn't had the chance to love liked her parents had once loved each other. She wanted to live..

[Raeoki]

From James's perch in Heaven, the light of Syren's liberty torch could not be seen as a ray of white illumination; instead, James could only see a streak of pink, as it had been dyed by the alarm's gules glow. Because of this, it was difficult to differentiate it and - once the differentiating had slowly but surely been completed - it's meaning was mostly lost to him. All he could glean from it that some pink was viewable in the red; and, because of the graduality of his noticing it, James did not realize immediately that it hadn't been there before. It wasn't until the pink light started to shudder, and then to flicker, and then to die that it dawned on James.

Once, during James's childhood, a mouse had crawled beneath his bedsheets as he was dozing, and its furry, petite form had brushed against his arm. James's eyelids - having been drooping by fatigue - now shot up, and his eyes became as wide as he could make them. However, he hadn't move; hadn't reached to feel the place where the mouse had touched, nor did he let his hand wander across his bed to see who the invader was. It wasn't till the mouse's whiskers accidentally touched the back of his hand that James decided that he had ought to seek out his unwanted roommate, and chase it from his blanket. In the same way did James realize that the pink bore meaning; initially too soft for one to decide whether or not it existed, till another soft brush or fondle-like action occurred. And when it did - when the mouse came flying from his bedsheets as fast as its little legs could send it; when the girlfriend lost in radioactive Hell tried to send a message to Heaven - did it hit him like a truck.

"Well?" the older worker piped up.

James lifted his body from his all-fours, animalesque position into a kneeling stance. "Yah. Yah, think so." 

"Damn!" he breathed.

"Wait a minute-" A very soft tap echoed from the machine, as light as a fragile whisper, due to the terrible wail of the alarm; it was barely audible, even to James - the nearest and youngest (thus having more acute senses than his chafed companion) person there. James bit his lip, and got into his kneeling position once again; the tap's noise volume remained the same. He paused; clenched his jaw; realized that he was hesitating - and forced his head into the machine. There, it became more evident that the tap was not supposed to be a tap; it was meant to be - and probably was, to the noise-maker's ears - a harsh and sudden bang, created for the sake of drawing attention, and thus help. 

James yanked his head out. "W'at? W'at now?" the worker demanded; the older fellow was shifting from one foot to the other, and his hands were clenched into fists.

"Alive'n'kickin', by da sounds of it."

The bridge of the fellow's nose wrinkled. "Stupid-ass oughta feel lucky," he hissed, and his gigantic, forever-dilated eyes had clouded over with an intense irritation. He began to twist his body around, and put one of his feet before him. "Gonna get help! Try tah keep da moron company, ahright?"

"Right."

He flew across the catwalk; the clamor of his boots against the platform's metal was soon drowned and hushed by alarm. James lowered his hands down, so they could share the weight of his body with his knees; he put his head into the reactor a little more confidently now, as it had yet to have been seared off by any leftover waves of radiation, and his eyes had yet to glimpse some horrific product of grizzly mutation (two fears that he doubted were likely, but still rather followed him about whenever he was in the presence of the reactors). The banging had ended; the damned was attempting a new and more commonplace method of communication with Heaven - but Heaven was too noisy and too distant to hear. All that echoed from the chambers of Eternal Damnation was silence; for voice is far softer than metal, especially metal upon metal. However, James did, in fact, notice this silence, and after some pause to see if the damned's noises would continue, worry started to chill him. He hesitated for a little while longer, his ears strained - to no avail. James gnawed on his lip, and decided it was best to attempt vocal communication with the accursed soul: "'AY! YAH ALRIGHT? 'AY, THERE! YAH KNOW THAT BANGIN' YOU WERE DOIN' EARLIER? DON' STOP THAT! AHRIGHT? 'AY! YAH'LL BE JUST FINE! JUST 'OLD TIGHT, AHRIGHT?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, it had not been long before the aforementioned worker remembered what hazmat suits looked like - or, rather, what it was like to see them. He had always thought that they looked rather thin; bulky, of course, but the skin of the suit itself seemed too close to the width of paper. It had never made sense to him, that a thing of such thin flesh could defend itself from such a terrible, unseeable killer, such as radiation; a thing that the worker had known of friends - during his time with the public's various factories -  who had fallen to the bane and burn of those waves/particles. Never once had the sight of their carcasses been desirable to paint or remember; never once had their deaths been easy to forget and depart from.

"Good thing yah got 'ere when yah did," he grunted to those suits; he could not see the band as men - merely specters, occupying some plasticky armor. "C'mon. We found someone for yah."

(ooc: Yay!!! More progress!)