December, AD 2880
New Taipei City
Arzenal (formerly Taiwan)
New Taipei City
Arzenal (formerly Taiwan)
"Let's see.. Flour, butter, a can of bug spray, and a new blanket. I think I got everything." The young woman walked down the sidewalk of a street in the somewhat bustling city street of the capital city of the former island of Taiwan. As she got to a crosswalk intersection, a chilly breeze whirred past going from west to east along the intersecting road. She clutched her cheap-looking satchel's shoulder strap as she instinctively turned away from the sudden gust of wind. Her eyes closed mostly as her free hand held down the front of her uniform's miniskirt; a half-hearted attempt to retain some modesty here in Arzenal but old habits died hard.
Emmaraldi Ro Brittania felt the chill breath of winter subside and she gingery turned to face towards where she'd been heading. The hand that had held down her prisoner's attire reached up and brushed her long-ish dark brown hair out of her face so as to not obscure her vision. The whole outfit was mainly white, with bared midriff accented by wine-red panels and black straps. The aforementioned miniskirt and a pair of boots with thigh-high socks completed the ensemble and marked her. As she crossed the street and glanced at the other people with a quick flick of her eyes that purposely avoided the face it struck her for the billionth time that everyone else in sight was in the same semi-embarrassing outfit. A light sigh escaped her lips as she continued down two more blocks before reaching her destination.
Such was the life of a 'citizen' of Arzenal. "Prisoner's more like it," she bitterly muttered to herself as she made to enter the building. Her training over the years of growing up here made her pause at the threshold and per into the dimmer interior; more specifically the blindspot she knew was a few steps in and to her left. Turning her back towards the wall to her right she cautiously began stepping sideways to the point where she would be able to lean and peek to get the jump on any interloper awaiting her for dark purposes. Thankfully the ambush spot seemed empty today. Maybe things were looking up. Moving along and up the stairwell - because if you were in less than a full crew elevators were prime places to get ambushed for robberies or far worse - Emmaraldi came up to a particular door and stopped before it. She leaned forward and inspected the various tells she'd placed on spots around and on the door. It seemed she was in the clear here as well.
She unlocked and opened the door, giving it a firm push open and giving it a few seconds as she listened for intruders who had somehow gotten in anyways. Nothing presented itself, so she finally entered and inspected her surroundings. It was a small single-occupancy apartment that was actually in good repair. Closing the door behind her and making sure to lock it firmly, Emmaraldi's khaki-hued eyes ran over her belongings as she set the satchel down on her small dining table. It wasn't much - a small hotplate, a counter-top toaster oven, a refrigerator that was more than a mini-fridge but less than a full-size one, and her bed that had a simple floral pattern on the cotton sheets - but it was home and it was as secure as she could make it without it being a concrete pillbox she welded herself into each night.
Her eyes glanced down at the letter that she'd been waiting for since she had put in for the pilot program of Arzenal. Her heart fluttered and wavered as she gently ran her fingers across the blandly printed text of her orders to report to the military base for suit fitting and final certification to be assigned a Para-Mail. Was she ready for this? No. Was she going to do it? Yes. Her erstwhile blood family would probably laugh at her for her current state. She could still hear the wild accusations and still-raw lies that had been spewed at her during that sham of a trial. Her face blushed with embarrassment and not a little bit of impotent rage as she remembered the cold look the Emperor - her own grandfather! - had given her as he passed his self-congratulatory judgement and cast her into this den of thieves and killers. What even had really happened to her father; who had preceded her own fate? She didn't even know.
She considered for the umpteenth time about sending a letter to her mother to ask, but she somehow knew that the woman had gotten the message from the leader of the Brittania family to sever ties. Emmaraldi couldn't blame her. To see father and daughter struck down without even a full breath each would scare the resistance out of any sane person. Self preservation would have long ago kicked in for the woman who'd birthed her, and not being in contact would serve to keep her safe. There was no use in lamenting what was gone and never to be. This was her reality. A girl whose only crime was having a heartbeat that offended some pompous jackass on a distant throne had no business on an island like this, yet here she was.
In the end, Emmaraldi could take a sad little comfort that each beat of that heart was a little laugh at the man who cast her towards a seeming death. But as she turned back to her satchel her thoughts drifted back to the orders on the table. This was a chance to do something all her own! She refused to let that man ruin it for her when he wasn't even in the same hemisphere as her.