They're split into two groups: Dauntless born and transfer. Already Emily sees there'll be a challenge; half of them have trained for sixteen years already, yet the other half – Emily's half – are starting new. Emily herself has a few years training advantage, bur for people like Will who only exercised his brain and Christina and Al who exercised their mouths, they've got a lot of lost time to make up for. It's unfair in every sense of the world, but looking around the dark place as they walk through it Emily doesn't think the word fair is in Dauntless' vocabulary.

They walk quietly through the compound, each room whether titled Pit or Chasm has Dauntless members who stop what they're doing at the sight of "fresh meat." It keeps the group docile as they're led around, seeing in the eyes of others how much they don't yet belong. Not to mention one of them already got themselves in trouble; though no surprise, Christina was known for her big mouth.

Emily though, she appraises it all. The Pit is huge, intimidating, there's so many people. Doubt creeps in, she questions Evelyn's authority and whether they could ever hope to destroy Dauntless, realizes just how wrong things can go if anyone finds out who she really was. But the moment passes and she remembers who she is, that Evelyn and all the others were counting on her do to this and do it right. She shakes off her traitorous second guessings and holds herself higher.

They're lead to a wide room made of cold concrete with beds lined in rows from wall to wall. "You're gonna be sleeping here for the next ten weeks," Four tells them, not slowing even a little to let them look around – they'd get used to it, or they'd defect.

"Girls or boys?" Al asks seeing too many beds for just one but the idea of it still seems barbaric.

"Both."

Not all are dismayed by this, some either don't care, joke, or look to the person they don't mind sharing a room with at night. Every reaction is different, as they are, but at the sight of the bathroom they're all the same. There are a few quiet groans, a seriously, a question asking if there was no other area, and an are you kidding me.

The back wall has two long sinks, nozzles lined up as if they're pigs at a feeding trough. To their right are the showers, or rather they're tiled areas with shower nozzles hanging from the ceiling without hope of covering themselves. And to the left might've been the worst of all, a row of toilets, so that even as they shit they might shit together. It's disgusting, filthy to boot, and even the most strong hearted feels queasy at the thought of using any part of it.

Even Emily, a born and raised Factionless girl, doesn't like what she sees – granted the idea of warm water and toilet paper, luxuries she only had starting three years ago, pleases her but there's little else that does.

"You should feel right at home Candor, everything out in the open," Four snidely remarks as he moves past Christina. "Get changed," he orders them before leaving.

"So he's got a sense of humor," she mumbles quietly, feeling Will nudge her having been close enough to hear. She tosses him a look over her shoulder but she meant it, Tobias will be insufferable if all there is to him is stone; it'd make her job easier if she liked him, make her care more.

Emily isn't surprised to find Will took the bed beside hers. From what she saw he didn't converse much with the other Erudites and when he did it wasn't pleasant – even she and Peter had a rare conversation, before he said something that had her eyes rolling and her giving up. "What do you think so far?" she asks him as they get dressed.
It's second nature for her to think of how much someone she knew needed the black pants she was taking off, or the white blouse she unbuttoned. Until three years ago she'd been the one needing the clothes. But still she removes them, pulling on a fitted black shirt, even tighter dark pants, and to change it up black boots.

Removing his gaze from her half dressed body Will opens his mouth to say one thing but instead blows out a puff of air and shakes his head as he says another. "A little daunted," he admits, testing the proverbial waters to see how she responded.

"I'm sure if you tell Four he'd give you a hug and tell you everything'll be okay," she says sounding convincingly sincere, her face and her forcibly pursed mouth give her away though and he snorts. "I think Eric would too."

"Maybe pierce my ears while he's at it," Will continues for her making her laugh, something he's never heard and is surprised to find sounds more like a giggle. "Did you see the size of them," he says motioning to his ears for good measure, keeping her laughing, before pulling on his new shirt.

The two are interrupted by an intruding voice. "There's a sound I haven't heard in a while."

Both Will and Emily turn to see Christina, her dark skin her dark hair, her short stature – she looks so small, and with her pretty smile she looks almost too good for Dauntless. "Wish I could say the same, but you never did know when to shut up."

Tris stares doe-eyed between the two girls not knowing if there was a long standing animosity between them, but then Christina laughs while the other girl smiles. Though it isn't much of a smile, not like before with Will, this time it's faint almost cautious as if something is holding her back.

"This is Tris," Christina says by way of introduction, jerking her thumb to the girl on her right.

"Emily," she greets in return, offering her hand to shake. From the gray wad of clothes in her hand Emily realizes this is the Abnegation transfer, impressive in and of itself – already Emily thinks she must be pretty tough, though maybe in spirit because Tris is not only small her rounded eyes make her look terrified. "It's nice to meet you."

Tris watches her go wishing for even a little of her self assuredness. The space Emily took in this world she took with purpose, like she meant to. Mostly Tris wanted to stop feeling small. "She seems nice," she says more so looking for confirmation.

"Oh she is," Christina easily replies. "She used to be nicer, used to smile a lot too. But then her mom left and it's like she took part of Em with her."

As they walk Tris nods along to all Christina says, getting used to the amount of words that come out of her mouth before she took a break. Tris thinks of her parents and how much of them she'd taken with her when she left, if Caleb had taken the rest. She wonders if there's anything left of them now that they'd taken it all.

"Look at that," Christina says nudging her. "It's like being back home."

Tris strains to see Emily's head, shorter than the guys behind her, but finds her walking with Al towering beside her. "Who's behind Al?"

Christina rolls her eyes. "Peter, he loves messing with her. After her mom Al turned into her guard dog, like if he stands in front of her it'll block out everything Peter says."

Whether or not that was what Al intended it didn't work, she always heard everything Peter said.

"When did you get hot?" he asks thinking all this time she was carrying extra weight. But in her new tight fitting clothes he was seeing the curves, the definition, mostly her ass because that's where his eyes are focused. At least until Will steps in front of him blocking the view.

"Don't listen to him, Emily," Al tells her, what he always tells her without ever confronting Peter – mostly because he doesn't like confrontation, and because Peter was cruel.

She glances up at Al glad she stayed to make sure he jumped; whether or not he belonged in Dauntless he at least deserved a chance. "Why not, he's saying such nice things: calling me beautiful, how much he likes me, that he's glad to see me in Dauntless. He's being very sweet today." Her voice is innocent non-condescending, she turns to peer around Will to see Peter's greatly unhappy face with his mouth pulled tight and his brows drawn together. She says these things because there's nothing that shuts Peter Hayes up faster than saying nice things about him, mostly because no one says nice things about him whether or not she really means it. Turning back around she winks at Al and continues on down the hall they're being led down, clothes still in hand.

With her never belonging in Candor she parts with her clothing easily, finds it an incredible waste when the Factionless outnumbered every other faction and continued growing which means more clothes are needed, but she drops them in the fire to burn all the same. It's supposed to be a symbol, burning ties and facing their new faction completely as their family – cause faction before blood and all – but for Emily it's a pointless ritual. She belongs nowhere, to no one, and in the end she's just burning string.

And then they're callously moving on, now donning the color of the Dauntless they leave their past behind them to burn. They're lead down another hall, their destination untold but they quickly figure it out at the sight of tables and benches with people sandwiched together eating. And with the hundreds of new faces somehow Emily finds herself next to Peter. She wanted the seat between Al and Will, where she'd be most likely to sit quietly or at least not hate her entire existence. But no, instead she's between Al and Peter and Peter's finally found what he wanted to say in response to her sarcasm.

"Do you know what people say about parents who abandon their kids?"

She knows he won't stop until his peace is said, until he cuts her. So while she turns to him accepting his invitation to converse, she allows irritation to enter her voice as she says, "I'm dying to hear it."

He's undeterred. "They say it's actually the kid's fault. And it's not that the parents are abandoning them it's the kid driving them away."

But she knows Peter, she's had three years growing skin thick enough that his cruelty barely leaves a dent. "You wanna know what else they say," she tells him around a bite of hamburger, "when boys are mean to girls it's cause they like them." Her face is smooth of all feeling, her voice free of tone, her hand rising to take another bite.

It's why Peter would always keep going, his comments getting meaner and nastier the more time passed. But his smile comes easier, he's more willing to admit he's not entirely serious; especially when he didn't even like her before her mother left. But that might've been because she was different person, a different Emily. "Touché."

She almost thinks they could be friends, a low kind of friend where she doesn't like him most of the time but she'll choose him over a stranger. But then he opens his mouth again, because he always opens his mouth again, says it's more an effort into her pants, which make her ass look great by the way – and it's ruined. Her response, which is more or less a suggestion of what he should do to himself, is silenced by the sudden clattering of a hundred metal cups being slammed repeatedly against the table.

"Initiates."

Though only the new are being called upon all of Dauntless in the dining hall look up to see a middle aged man standing at the railing of the floor above them. His face, though not unpleasant, is aging toward the middle of his life – already his dark skin is creasing, made all the more apparent under harsh light. Emily remembers something she was told once by an older woman who defected: the Dauntless have an expiration date.

"Stand," Max commands.

Emily, already looking at Peter, draws her brows together in questioning but he only raises a shoulder knowing no more than she did. With little else to do Emily stands with the other initiates wondering when 'initiation' would end. She's getting tired of the tests and the rituals, god the meaningless rituals that never seem to end like any of this actually matters.

"You have chosen to join the warrior faction tasked with the defense of this city and all its inhabitants."

She stands immobile, expressionless, face upturned to her new faction leader resisting the urge to roll her eyes. These so called warriors were doing more than defending the city, she doesn't know what yet but she has every intention to find it out.

"We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, and the courage that drives one person to stand up for another. Respect that. Do us proud." His tone is firm, detatched, an edge carved into his voice as though he speaks a warning.

As he steps away from the rail the hall erupts in a chorus of clapping and cheering, the others all rising to their feet. At their symphony Emily lowers her chin and looks at their numbers, feels that same doubt creep into her mind and settle in her chest. And then suddenly she's scooped onto someone's shoulders. For a sliver of a moment she thinks it's all over, they figured it out and she's being restrained. But people are still cheering, other initiates are hoisted up with her over a sea of hands.

They're welcoming her, all of them. This is happy. She forces her mouth to smile as Peter to her left is doing, though his is far more convincing and much less contrived. A hand above the ones on her back grabs her arm, and she turns to see Will with a bright smile on his sharp angular face. His grip slips down her arm as the hands beneath them pull them in different directions and they're left holding onto each other by the tips of their fingers, and suddenly her smile isn't a thought anymore. And she's laughing, thinking maybe not all Dauntless rituals were a waste of time.

…

She lies awake in the dark listening to the sound of even breathing, now that Al has cried himself to sleep the others are able to follow suit. Except her. It's been so long since she's had to sleep without the stars watching over her; Aaron Bird found her asleep on the floor under the skylight her first night in Candor and after the sun had risen and fallen again the couch had been moved so she could sleep on it and still see the sky.
As a child her father told her stars were the souls of all who'd been let into heaven and one day the sky would be filled with their light. There aren't many things she believes in but she believed in him, and his star shined the brightest every night. She'd watch the remnants of his soul blink in and out and pretend he was still with her letting her lay her head on his lap as he ran a hand over her hair. But he was always gone when morning came, and the sun did nothing to warm her.

With a heavy heart she sighs and rolls onto her stomach forcing her mind to think of anything else. It sticks on all that happened that day, all the questions she has and all she doesn't understand. She grew up without choices, with no opportunity, no hope to dream of anything better.
Everything about today was strange: they took a test to tell them their faction and were then given a choice as if they had free will to do so, and now they'll be forced to compete to stay in the faction they're told to put above family. She shifts her weight on the thin excuse of a mattress and wonders why the test alone doesn't decide the faction – there would be no need for an initiation, for decision and error as teenagers are certain to make, finding divergents would be a thing of the past as every inconclusive test result would reveal them.

It's one of the reasons Evelyn had noticed her, why she'd had it in mind to use her – they share similar thoughts, believe in the same ideals. And she was just vulnerable enough for Evelyn to mold her into the perfect weapon.