OMG GUYS IM BACK I WROTE A THING! I've got two dates for ya: Pepper's and Clio's (who you guys haven't seen a pov of yet so I'm interested to see what you guys think of her!), and LITERALLY SO SORRY I've been gone so long! It's been literally months omg. Like almost 5. That's insane. This chapter isn't even that long. Hopefully I'll do better next time lol sorry my frands!

Thanks to wolfofstark, XOStarbrightXO, rysaspirit, The Pocketwatch Ripper, and Cookiedoodles168 for your continued support and love! You guys 'da real MVPs. Love ya!:))

Anyways: DATES! Enjoy!

Lady Pepper Hearst

I have made it a point not to judge any person without first getting to know them. We are not the sum of our parts: we are the thoughts behind actions; the defined by the choices we make. Being kept quiet for most of my life, being the there-but-not-really observer, I have noticed that. Sometimes it's the most beautiful people who have the ugliest souls, those with the most vacant resting faces who think the most, and people with the fanciest degrees who really know so little about the way the world operates. Some of us are not how we appear.

To say that Prince Cameron Havillard was a "kind person" may be overshooting the facts, but I had my reservations about calling him a "mean person", or a down right "cruel person". And upon closer examination, he never really did look like a nice person. He discharged thirteen girls with a flick of the wrist and didn't think twice. He seemingly was raised with no manners: there was not a please or thank you to any of his waiters or butlers. And he never looked people in the eyes. I did not know him well, and I'm not the psychoanalyst type, but I knew, down in my very core: Prince Cameron is exactly how he seems: cruel. Cruel enough to make me want to cry. Some people are just like that.

So far, Prince Cameron had shown no mercy. After eliminating more than a third of his original 35 Selected, he also sent home every girl after every date. And today, after my date (9 o'clock AM, on October 3rd), I will supposedly join the eliminated girls. We're like a pile of dead bodies by now, plowed over and disregarded. It hardly seemed like he cared about any of us, but today of all days to send me home… Illéa will be a cruel nation ruled by a callous king, and as if I wasn't already familiar with fear…

I wait on the edge of my bed, inner turmoil racing through my brain at the speed of light. Trigger words in my fast-tracked mind make my heart contort and at times I feel a limb physically twitch or fall numb. I've already brushed my teeth three times, changed my shoes twice (with my maids, dismissed by me almost fifteen minutes ago, having no say in whether I can wear open-toed suede with unpainted toenails), and stared disappointedly at a new, blank page of a brand-new sketch pad, pencils in hand and creativity nowhere to be found. He was already five minutes late for our rendezvous. I do not like late people, but I figure Prince Cameron does not like me. No one really seems to.

I'm nearly knocked out cold when the prince comes to retrieve me with four raps on my door. And with a speeding heart and deceased breathing, I open it. I'm less than surprised to find that he isn't smiling. In fact, he looks like an executioner. His abnormally green eyes are dead, just like my chances of lasting another day here.

Doesn't it make such a sad existence: the universe destinationalistically pitted against you?

"Lady Pepper," the prince greets, as we exchange a formal bow and curtsey. Then he does something strange: he takes my hand and laces it with his. And as we leave, my heart is stopped but my breathing revived, and every emotion and expectation I have is flipped. Dread is replaced with regret, and brain function is now, somehow, completely halted. "You look very beautiful this morning."

Ah, formalities, I realize suddenly. He tells me I'm beautiful because he's supposed to; he's holding my hand because that's the custom. I'm entirely oblivious to royal culture, there's really no way I could have known.

"Thank you, Your Highness." I respond curtly, my free hand clutching the modest inverted-scallop skirt of a cream midi with printed black roses. "You look very nice, yourself." As long as we're sticking to formalities, I figure it's only polite to return the compliment.

"Of all the days to dress up, today, I thought, was the right day." He offers me a smile like a peace offering, looking at me quickly. I think he's looking for a reaction from me, but all I can reciprocate is a quick motion of eyes darted from him and back. I will not give him the satisfaction. He will not make me feel anything, and I will turn my emotions off. I will leave with dignity and no reservations. And with that, I can survive the rejection.

Also, eye contact makes me uncomfortable.

The rest of our walk to outside is spent in merciful silence. In fact, until we wander past the palace gardens, past the area of the grounds where the Royal Estate is even visible, I manage not to think anything at all.

"Wait a second," I ponder aloud, suddenly very confused, "where are we going?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Prince Cameron replies. "We're just kind of wandering right now."

This strikes me as more than insulting. What, so another girl gets a fancy dinner, or a nice movie, and the prince doesn't even have the decency to plan something for me? If he cared so little, why on earth did he bother keeping me past the first elimination?

I keep my mouth firmly cemented shut. If I don't deserve a proper date, he doesn't deserve a response.

"Alright, I feel like this is a good a spot as any." He says, halting our stride suddenly. On the climax of a small, neatly-trimmed, dandelion and daisy-infested hill, Prince Cameron releases my hand and sits. I spend a wobbly second standing in confusion before joining him on the grass, curling my knees to my chest and picking at the blades beside me. We spend time in conservative silence for a while, with him staring at me obsessively and not a care on my mind as I stare at the ground. My father once told me that I shouldn't kill people with kindness, because not everyone deserves my kindness, but that it was better to kill them with silence because not everyone deserves my attention.

"So, tell me about your family. Did they send you anything for your birthday?"

"No, they didn't." I say, strategically avoiding the first part of his question and finally meeting his eyes. They're sparkly and inquisitive, and his small, hopeful smile catches me off guard. It's as if he's actually interested in what I have to say. I watch the emotion fall off his face at my response.

"Nothing?" I shake my head, pushing a non-existent flyaway from my meticulous beachwave-infested ponytail and hug my knees tighter. "Not a card, a gift, nothing?"

"No. We don't have much money, it's not like we can afford a lot. I don't really mind. I've told you already: I haven't celebrated my birthday since I was eleven."

"But today… You, Pepper Hearst, turn eighteen today. And you're spending this with me, not with your family. And they didn't even waste the postage to send you a card?"

"I thought you had to call me 'Lady'." I object flatly, not caring much about his opinions on the obscurity of my family's birthday non-traditions. I'm more hurt that he remembered my birthday and is still going to eliminate me.

"I'm sorry." He responds politely. "Actually, would it be okay if I just call you Pepper? You can call me Cameron if you'd like, I just feel like it's easier than addressing people by title."

I look him unblinkingly in the eyes for a few counts. "That sounds alright." I tell him. He smiles at me again.

"Anyways," he says, bringing us back to our previous conversation, "I still think you should get something. I mean, you can drink and stuff now."

I almost laugh. "Is that what your eighteenth birthday meant to you?" I inquire, trying not to laugh. "The day you can legally drink?"

"I've been enjoying this privilege for more than a year now, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that it was legitimately the only upside to becoming a legal adult." He smiles at me (with those perfect, white teeth and smooth lips) as I chuckle, even as reluctant as I am. "Here, hold on a minute." He says, uprooting various daisies.

"What are you doing?" I ask, implying it must be stupid.

"You'll see. Could you hold these for me?" Without waiting for permission, he hands me a daisy bouquet of seven. Every twenty five-or-so seconds, he'll take one and tie it to the others. Occasionally I remove one inflamed hand to wipe my runny nose or itchy, watery eyes, but we say nothing while he works.

Cameron finishes his project and places it on my head: a daisy crown, fit for non-royalty like myself. He smiles at his finished product and I laugh through the itchiness in my throat.

"Stunning." He marvels at his work. I chuckle, to show my doubt, "You laugh; it'll be a trend someday, you'll see."

"Ah yes, a new staple for designers everywhere."

"That's right. Oh! And one final gift for you." Cameron pulls an in-full-bloom dandelion from the grass beside him and hands it to me. "Make a wish."

I think of what I want with closed eyes, trying to stop the itching, and blow when I know exactly what to wish for.

"What was your wish?" Cameron questions excitedly.

"For a Zertec." I say, followed by a sneeze. "I'm allergic to daisies."

His smile quickly falls off his face, and Cameron very quickly looks worried. "Oh! Oh my god, sorry!" He removes the crown from my head and places it on his own. I laugh again, through watery eyes. "Don't make fun of me, my fashion is unisex. God, as a person who's so involved with fashion you really aren't good at identifying

Intended Accessory Gender."

"I don't think that's a thing."

"This is blasphemy. You don't even know what Intended Accessory Gender is."

"It's not real."

"I will sue." I laugh. But as the air goes flat and Cameron stops smiling, now looking suddenly serious for no reason, I'm at a loss for words, or even breaths. The damn fool tricked me. I said I would turn my emotions off; that I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Cameron gives me a little bit of an uncomfortable smile and takes my hand once again.

Some people are just crueler than imaginable.

"Pepper, I'm sorry for this…"

Lady Clio Smirnov-Athans

Another two days and three more girls gone. I think it'd be safe to say I've never been more terrified in my life. Soon, the allure and romance of a date with the crown prince wore off, only to be replaced by terror and dread. Getting a date was a synonym for being sent packing, which wasn't something I could do just yet.

"Trina? Does the bodice of this dress look a little tight to you?" One of my maids, Marley, asks the head of the trio. Grace pops her head out from the closet, where she's picking shoes, and Trina stands firmly with her arms crossed.

"We're going to have to get her re-fitted, I think." She remarks under her breath, a little frustrated with the nuisance. Grace rolled her eyes and smiles at me.

"Hey, I'd rather have to get re-fitted in the bust than have my flat-as-a-board body…" She laughs.

"There must have been an issue in the sizing. Sorry about that!" Marley quickly apologizes.

"Oh, yeah," I stutter awkwardly. "I'm sure that's it. But it's ok, though. No big deal or anything." All right and now I'm babbling. Never a good sign.

Marley stares at me hard. "Trina, is it okay if I change her outfit? Like, something a bit looser fitting on the top, just until we get her refitted for a new wardrobe?"

"Sure, whatever you want. Just fix that-okay?"

"Sure." Marley purses her lips and heads back to the closet.

I suppose it wont make much of a difference. This may be the last time I have to wear one of these dresses again. The last time I see my maids again. I may not even get to the resizing.

Dates just shouldn't be causing me so much anxiety, right? Dating is about passion and curiosity, infused with tension and chemistry! Then again, dating has never been code for doomsday for me, but for the guys I've dated in the past…

Damn. My medicine is bitter.

Maybe it'd be better if I were eliminated, anyway. There are other things to worry about, time sensitive problems that have to be addressed as soon as possible. Now if I could only get out of the palace for a day…

'The only way out is through.'

So maybe it's all for the best anyway. Sadly. I'll be back to Spencer, my wont-leave-me-alone-since-that-night roommate who gave me his stupid fire helmet as a keepsake without my permission (as if he doesn't know what I'm here for). No more covering the Selection for The Illéan Woman magazine,and that probably means no promotion either. Back to the bottom again.

Hopefully not the exact bottom I'm currently afraid of.

Marley reenters the room with a smile and a new outfit. She strips me of the gauzy white dress I had originally been wearing for a cream pencil skirt with scoops along the hem and a matching cream top, exposing the skin on my midriff but not the bellybutton piercing she promised to keep a secret from Trina. The top fits snugly, but still looks appropriate. Grace follows closely behind her with the accessories she had hunted for earlier: Strap gold heels, dangly gold and diamond earrings, and a gold and diamond mini-bib necklace. She hands me a clutch as well (both silver and gold, with black velvet on the inside) and loads it with the same shade of crimson lipstick already applied to my lips, my cellphone (in case of emergency), and some breath mints. Trina throws my hair up quickly into a fashionable, curly topknot, and Grace reapplies some mascara and perfume (called Better Than Sex Cake, and I above anyone would know). They then make some polite conversation with me until Prince Cameron arrives.

I take a deep breath and steel myself before opening the door to let him in. We have a quick exchange of hellos and he kisses my hand politely after I finish my curtsey (which was officially Avery Caxton approved), and wave goodbye to my concerned-looking maids as I wander away.

News travels fast. None of us wanted to say it, but they knew almost for certain that I would be gone by this time tomorrow.

"So, where are you taking me?" I ask casually, smirking at the handsome (if a bit mean, as far as I could tell) prince.

"Dinner." He states simply, not bothering to look at me but around the hall I'm sure he'd wandered down millions of times in his nineteen years living here. "I thought I said that on the invitation, my apologies if I was unclear."

"No, I know that." I insist, trying not to sound stupid. "I just meant where. And also, you don't have to talk so formally around me, if you don't want. Or, unless that's just the way you talk naturally, because that's fine too."

Prince Cameron gives me a look, and I take that as an immediate hint that I'd need to slow the speaking and not talk unnecessarily if he was going to keep me. "We're going to the balcony on the second floor."

"Not near any of the Selected's rooms, I hope?"

"No, it's on the other side of the building."

"Great, wouldn't want any spies, right?"

"Right." He responds lamely, letting out a bored sigh. So we're not off to the best of starts.

"So… How was your day today?" Not sure exactly where to start the conversation, I awkwardly land here.

"Good." He concedes, as if it troubled him to answer my question. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but keep my mouth shut.

As we eventually arrive to our dinner-destination, I relax our looped arm to sit down. I fix my skirt and put my napkin on my lap, sucking in the purity of fresh air, soft candle wax, and good wine. This is an environment I could get accustomed to.

"So," I start, trying again to get a conversation going, "do you think, in a relationship, that it's the little things or the grand gestures that mean more?"

"What?" The Prince looks confused at my question. As if it's rocket science or something…

"Well, which is more important to you?"

"I like a mix of both," he says after a little thought. "What about you?"

"Little things." I decide instinctively. He nods, finally giving me his undivided attention. "It's the way a guy notices a change in your hair, or pulls out your chair before you sit down. The little acts of chivalry that prove romance isn't yet dead. Take notes." I joke.

"Oh, I'll be sure to." He smirks, turning his gaze away from me to his menu. "Tell me when you know what you want and I can call over a waiter."

"Ready whenever you are."

Prince Cameron does as discussed. For him, steak cooked medium with mashed potatoes. "I'll have the salmon filet, with an arugula side salad, please." The waiter nods and takes our menus.

"Hmm… Salmon?" He ponders.

"Yes salmon, what's wrong with that?"

Prince Cameron makes a face "Never mind…"

I switch up my expression for mock seriousness. "Excuse you, if you have problems with my salmon I think you should put it on the table. I need to know what I'm getting into here."

"Ah, is being a salmon-hater a deal-breaker?"

"Why yes it is."

"I can keep my mouth shut." I stick my tongue out at him but can't help but smile.

"So does this mean you're a generally picky eater, or just discriminatory against fish?"

"I'm not, and I even like other fish too. Flounder, soul, swordfish…?"

"Ah, so now you'll get mercury poison." I retort, arms crossed. "That's good, though. Just what I'm looking for in a mate."

Prince Cameron rolls his eyes, any trace of joking either gone or well hidden. He doesn't smile for a second.

By the time we actually get our food, we're talking enough to sustain real –albeit slow- conversation. I practically inhale my meal, and then have to wait while Prince Cameron chews slowly.

"I see Miss Avery hasn't taught you about how to eat." I, quite honestly, can't tell whether or not he's joking.

"Rude." I say, wiping my mouth with my napkin. "Also, screw you. Screw Avery."

"Better not let her hear that…"

"You're right, she'll have my head. I swear to god that woman is such a witch. She made one of the girls cry one time!"

"Should I even ask?"

"Maybe it's not my place to tell." He chuckles humorlessly.

He swallows a final bite and clears his throat. "We should probably get you back up to your room now…" He says, looking at his watch.

Umm… so no elimination for me. And despite that the fact that there was no kissing, slow conversation at first, and I'm going back to my room before eight o'clock, I'd say tonight was a success. I'm a lil' bit bored but still competing, and that would have to be enough for now.

The end. Sorry if that was kind of boring for you guys, but we got to see our first two dates up close (and also it's like 1:15 right now at my house)! Which date did you like better? Who has more chemistry with Cameron, do you think? What POV did you enjoy more? Tell me in the reviews!

ALSO! For character-creator ppl, I want to do "tags" for the characters! Creds to wolf for the idea (but then again it's also kinda a Kiera Cass thing so shoutout to her too…?), but I think it'll be really interesting to get ideas! This would go out for ANY still-surviving contestant, the mains in particular but remaining ma, and supporting! If you're kinda confused about this: it's basically just "the" followed by a tag. Like, America was "The One", and Marlee was "The Favorite", Celeste was "The Diva", etc etc etc. THAT! That's what I'm interested in for the girls! What are your character's tags?:) You can either leave it in the comments or PM me!

Love y'all lots! Remember to review!

XOXO,

xx. Scarlett