A/N: Why am I publishing something when I already have a full workload? I do not know. All I know is that I typed up a few of these chapters (around 5) and so I wanted to get them out since they were just sitting there and collecting dust. I'm actually getting through it quite quickly.

Anywho, here's my little adaption of 'Divergent' by Veronica Roth! I may do the whole trilogy, but let's see how this goes. Also Meliodas does not appear until a bit later on into the story. Like chapter 4 :I

Till next time,

D.L.D

P.s. For those of you who don't know what Divergent is, it's about a dystopia in which people live in factions. Each faction is centered around a different virtue and no-one can change factions: factions are for life. But some people, the divergent, belong to more than one faction. However being divergent is extremely dangerous - so enter the drama and cause of the plot!

Chapter 1: Third Day of the Month

There's only one mirror in my house. It's behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs, right next to the closet. Only once every three months, on the second day, does my faction allow me to stand in front of it. It's on this day that my sister, Margaret, cuts my hair.

I sit on the stool in front of the mirror now, patiently silent as she stands behind me. The familiar clicking of scissors fills the room, silver strands falling delicately to the ground. The hair falls in a halo, surrounding the stool in an angelic fashion, however I know that this is just part of the tri-monthly routine. It's always been like this.

When she finishes the task, Margaret pulls my hair away from my face and twists it into a knot. I note how delicate and calm she is, how diligent and serene she appears, as she lightly hums a tune. Warm brown eyes are filled with concentration, her expression thoughtful as she grabs a hairpin. My sister's so focused on the task at hand, that she seems a pro at forgetting herself. In fact she is. Margaret is well-versed in the art of forgetting herself and that's why she's still part of Abnegation. She's so good at being selfless that I feel guilty for not being the same.

But I can never call myself selfless.

When my sister isn't looking, I sneak a look at my reflection - not for vanity, but out of curiosity. It's been three months since I've last seen my appearance, and I wanted to see how I had changed. A person can change a lot in three months. Losing weight, gaining it, even going through small changes such as puberty can affect a person's appearance. Plus I never got to see my progress often, only every once in a while.

In the mirror I see a pale face, wide, round blue eyes and a button nose. The tight Abnegation style bun makes me look a little more formal and plain, my silver hair tied with no loose strands. My long outgrown silver bangs had been swept from my eyes, the familiar slope of the grown out right side reminding me of my now revealed hidden eye. I try to search for some sign of maturing, for some sign of change, but I still look young and innocent despite turning sixteen sometime in the past few months.

Since my faction doesn't celebrate birthdays, I can't really remember exactly when it was. Although I do know the day, my birthday had never been anything special. It was just another day, and unlike other factions we passed them without celebrations.

Celebrations such as birthdays were self-indulgent.

"There," Margaret smiles as she pins the knot in place, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. Her cinnamon eyes catch mine in the mirror, capturing me in the act of looking, but instead of reprimanding me, Margaret offers a soft smile. A tender smile. The smile causes me to blush profusely, my face turning red as I wonder why she won't reprimand me. I shouldn't be looking in the mirror: it's selfish.

"So, today is the day," My sister's voice comes out gentle and guiding. It matched the way a comforting hand rested on my shoulder, Margaret's expression softened as she looked at me. "Are you nervous?"

At that question I look into my reflection's eyes, my bottom lip automatically caught between my teeth. Today was the day of the Aptitude test which will reveal which one of the five factions I belong to. Every sixteen year old had been resigned to complete it from as long as this city's been around, the rule being that the faction you choose will forever be your faction until you die. The test's meant to help me with the Choosing Ceremony tomorrow, the one which will seal my fate in whatever faction I choose to belong in; but the problem with this is the choice I have to make. The fact that I will have to remain with my family or abandon them.

"Not really," I finally answer, eyes slightly downcast as I continue to chew my lip. Instinctively, I wring my hands. "The tests don't have to change our choices. They only help to guide them."

At that Margaret nodded, some loose tendrils of her lavender hair spilling from her bun.

"Right," She gives me another soft smile. "Let's go eat breakfast."

My sister then gives my shoulder a firm squeeze, sliding the panel and locking away the mirror. It's as she does this that I notice Margaret would be beautiful if she wasn't Abnegation. Soft, graceful features as well as airs were her gifts. Owning a frame that was neither too skinny nor fat, delicate cheek bones and warm chocolate eyes, my sister would have been called pretty. In fact her long lavender hair that curled slightly at the ends was also an attractive feature that many would adore.

Yet Margaret chose to hide it all away in Abnegation. She chose to remain here, her initiation being around five years ago. After our mother passed, Margaret vowed to be there for me and Veronica and so chose to stay within Abnegation when given the chance to leave. As a result she still wears their grey standard clothing and pulls her hair into the tight standard bun. She isn't seen as attractive to many, her only admirer being her childhood friend Gilthunder.

They're due to be married later this year.

After clearing up the hair, we both make our way to the kitchen. On these mornings Veronica, my other sister, makes breakfast; my father reads the newspaper as he asks me how I'm doing; and Margaret sets the table. I on the other hand have nothing to do. I stick out like a sore thumb. All I can do is sit and wait, offering assistance but always getting shut down. Therefore on these mornings, these mornings when they are all so selfless and peaceful, so happy and calm - I can't help but feel guilty.

I can't help but feel so guilty that I feel as if I don't belong.

But then when I think of leaving them all, it makes me want to cry.

The bus always stinks of exhaust. Every time it runs over an uneven patch of land, it jostles me from side to side despite my attempts to stay still by gripping the seat. Every morning I find myself sliding into some stranger's lap, the force of the bus being too great for my underdeveloped muscles.

However my friend, Mael, is standing in the aisle, a strong hand firmly grasping the pole above him. He easily adapts to the motion of the rattling bus, a large hand gripping the poles that were installed to help others stand when all the seats were full. It was like his natural habitat.

From childhood Mael and I have been inseparable, often following each other around since factions liked to stick together. As a result we often were spotted together, going around and doing things within the restrictions of Abnegation's lifestyle. Cleaning after classes, volunteering for community work and even doing plain, old boring things were made fun with Mael. He was also quite good-looking too, his silver hair and pure blue eyes being his best features. I'm pretty sure that if Mael wasn't Abnegation, all of the girls would want to ask him out.

However despite our closeness and likeness, Mael has mastered the life of Abnegation without even trying, while I have not. It just seemed like second nature for him to act selflessly, and it especially showed now. He had given up his seat on the bus for a burly Candor businessman. No questions had been asked or anything, Mael just offered up his seat. That was something I could never do unless someone clearly needed it, like an elderly person.

The business man was dressed in the standard black and white of his faction, his suit and tie looking awfully formal for a city bus. Since Candor valued truth and honesty over lies, their dress-code and workforce reflected that too. Much like how Abnegation wears grey to value selflessness and often does jobs that help the community, the other factions have colours and jobs that represent their ethos. As as result all Candor could be recognised from their distinguishing black and white clothing, much like all the other factions could be recognised from their own colours.

Deciding to distract myself, I look out of the window. The gaps between the buildings are now beginning to narrow, indicating that we are nearing the city center. That meant that the roads were much smoother, and taller and glassier buildings were approaching. The building that was once called Light of Grace Tower - we now call it the Hub - emerges from the fog in the skyline. It looks like a shining pillar, glass and metal mixing into one.

The bus jostles slightly as it goes over the elevated tracks, shaking me once again. Those tracks are for the trains, which only the Dauntless ride. The tracks run everywhere and all the time, allowing the Dauntless to reach whatever location they desire. However everyone else either drove or took the bus. The problem with that though was the roads.

Five years ago, volunteers chose to repair the roads. They started inwards and worked on the city center, neglecting the outer areas until they ran out of material. That left the areas further out of the city, like Abnegation, without safe roads. But that didn't mean much to me or Mael - none of our families owned a car after all. Plus it was better knowing people who used roads more frequently actually had safe roads to drive on.

So it was a win-win in a way.

The bus comes to a shaking halt and I spot Mael glance at the people around us, his mind most likely focusing on who might need his help. I find myself also doing that, but instead of with a natural air I have more of a forced way of thinking one. As a result when the bus actually stops in front of the school, I scoot over from the Candor man. In the process of doing this, I nearly trip over and fall face-first, my slacks and natural clumsiness working together.

I had never been graceful.

Getting off the bus, I take in what will probably be my final glance of my current school. The Upper Levels school was the oldest of three school buildings, being the final one for the children of this city. As a result it was akin to the others, glass and steel being the primary foundation of it. However there was a green in front of the building, the grass and white marble standing out against the metallic gleam of the building.

Students were already on the grass, some heading into the building but most loitering or waiting for friends. Some Amity were talking animatedly, clasping hands and dancing in silly ways; while the Candor entered some sort of debate. It was often like this every morning, the factions all talking in their separate groups, doing things that matched our traits. A prime example of this is the group of Dauntless who were around a large, metal statue that they all liked to climb. They often dared each other to go higher and higher, fear being something they were immune to. A girl broke her leg once adhering to the dares; I had been the one to call the nurse to help her that day.

"Aptitude tests today," I look to Mael and he gives me a nod.

We pass through the front door, immediately thrust into the crowd of students rushing to get to class or their lockers. The atmosphere was hungry, many students probably wanting to remember this all before never seeing it again. This will be the last time we walk these halls. Plus classes were cut in half so that left us even less time to remember and enjoy this place for a final time. That being said, I had a lot to commit to memory.

"You aren't worried about the results?" I raise a brow as I look to Mael again, this time studying his reaction.

He seems so calm and composed right now, his expression and stance seeming nothing but prepared. In fact he seemed ready for whatever came his way next, face straight and relaxed. I envy that slightly, wishing that I could take his calmness to soothe my jittery nerves.

We soon come to the split between our paths, his lesson being Advanced Mathematics and mine being Faction History. Other students part to let us talk and I watch as Mael raises a brow at me, his expression seeming concerned.

"Are you worried, Elizabeth?"

My lip gets caught between my teeth at this, my thoughts seeming to buzz. I could tell Mael about my dilemma. I could tell him that I was unsure about what I wanted and whether leaving my family was right. I could tell him that I couldn't be selfless, but then couldn't see myself being anything else. I knew I could, but I also knew that it wouldn't do any good. Telling Mael my problems would only complicate things and then he'd want to help me.

I can't have that happening. Not at all. If so he'll end up living unhappily because he wants me to be happy.

So instead I give a smile, "No, not really. I'm just nervous about the whole ceremony thing."

Mael gives out a laugh at that, shaking his head as he rests a hand on my shoulder.

"You'll be fine, Elizabeth," His smile is genuine, however a veil of sadness seems to cloak it. "You're one of the most selfless people I know."

I go to protest this, but he is already heading to his class and so I must head to mine. The hallways are always crowded towards this part of the day, the small space seeming even more cramped and smaller with the students all in here. The light emitted by the windows often gives the illusion of spacious hallways - but really it is just that: an illusion. The school was really quite cramped, and so it was often a battle to get to class in one piece. As a result I'm not surprised when I get shoved by a Dauntless, before an Amity girl with long curly hair calls to a friend. Her call is sent directly into my ear, startling me slightly. I stumble back and end up getting shoved to the floor by an Erudite.

"Watch where you're going Stiff!" He growls as he walks away.

I fall roughly to the ground, my butt and palms hurting from the impact. No-one comes to help me up, people stopping but not coming. Instead they all continue on their way, talking and laughing and joking as I dust myself off and try to hold back the tears.

For a while now, many of the Abnegation had been targeted by the Erudite. Antagonist reviews and articles had been published about us, our plain, forgettable existences suddenly becoming targets. I had always thought that the loose, grey clothes, uncomfortable, tight buns and close haircuts were there to make us Abnegation be forgotten. I thought they were made for us to sink into the background and just be there. I had always imagined that it made it easier to blend in and become no-one.

But recently we had become someone. We became those who were pushed around and couldn't defend ourselves.

We became subservient victims.

Holding back tears, I continue on my way to class. I'm more outraged than upset, my upbringing forcing me to try and mask those emotions. But even so I can't deny that the way we're being treated right now isn't right. It's completely wrong. But no-one in Abnegation will speak up because we are too selfless to do it. We are too busy ignoring ourselves to even care that we are being treated like dirt. They don't even care enough to stand up for themselves.

So when I pause at the window in the E-wing and wait for the 7:25 train, I know why I am looking. I know why I'm watching as groups of black-cad Dauntless jump from the moving cars and roll, stumble or fall onto the grass. I know why I watch wherever they go - why I want to see what they do.

It's because no-one can demean them or treat them like dirt. A Dauntless would stand up for themselves, whereas Abnegation do not. The Dauntless were people who wouldn't allow themselves to be bullied. They're the sort of people to start a fight over someone trying to walk all over them.

My father calls them 'hellions' and says that people shouldn't put metal rings through their noses or dye their hair crazy colours; my sisters say that the Dauntless are too brutish and reckless to be people; Abnegation says that Dauntless are something we should not aspire to be. They're loud, spontaneous and brutish, while Abnegation are quiet, reserved and polite.

But then, when I see the Dauntless jumping off their trains and being so happy and free, I can't help but long for that too. I can't help but wish to be loud and brutish with them, to feel the rush of air as I do things that make my heart race and mind tick. I can't help but wish to be part of it all - be a part of something different.

However when the bell rings, I'm brought back to reality and know that I cannot do such a thing. I can't abandon my family, nor can I go and become a Dauntless. It's a foolish dream anyway, one that belongs to my childhood days.

So I walk away from the window, tears dried up but mind still feeling stormy.