Over-Rated.
It was disgusting really, the way they were treated after the Erudite-Dauntless war was over.
It was like somehow, amongst the blood and death and dishonour, they had all become some kind of deity, some kind of representation of all that was right and good in the world.
People bowed to them, shook their hands, offered up their very lives for them.
Or they turned and ran in awed fear.
It made Christina want to gag.
She knew she was no different than everyone else who had fought, yes; she was Tris's right hand when Tobias was occupied (an extremely rare occurrence these days), but she was still just another soldier in the New Dauntless army, just another weary face amongst thousands.
She was just another member, no different than anyone else.
So why was she special to them?
She wasn't like Tris, who, for all her Abnegation ideals and mannerisms, had been a true Dauntless Leader the moment she jumped from that roof. And she wasn't like Tobias, who had inspired the courage of thousands despite being fearful himself.
She wasn't a leader.
She wasn't a hero.
She was just another girl who grew up to fast, fell in love even faster and lost everything in the blink of an eye. Just like a thousand other girls all throughout the factions.
But no one else could see that- no one else would see that.
So when Tris came by her apartment at seven am every morning with coffee and a tired grin, dressed up in her Dauntless finest and understanding in her eyes telling her that they had a Council meeting in thirty minutes she would just suck it up and get ready.
No fighting, no complaints just acceptance.
And she would do because she was the only one that could do it.
No one else could take her place in the public's eye as Tris's female right hand and complete confident, no one else could be the made up persona of Christina, the tragic love-lost war heroine.
No one else could be their Christina but her, the person their Christina had come from.
So she wouldn't smile (that was Tris, the compassionate leader's, job. Not her, the tragic one's, job), but she would stand quiet and graceful in black leather and cloth with her hair all pretty and she'd accept their over-rated affection and fear and respect because that was what they all did, what every icon did.
Because lets face it, if their characters hadn't been so drastically over-rated and rewritten, if the public believed they were still typical, normal people, it would be impossible to keep going.
Hello my beautiful and lovely readers! How have you all been? Well, hopefully a little better now that I've (finally) updated!
Once again I had some trouble with this chapter (sigh, when don't I?) but I still hope you like it, I went for a bit of a new direction with this one what with setting it from Christina's point of view so I hope you don't hate me for it!
Thanks goes out to: IamDivergent, Awesomet88, HyDrOmAtlc (of course) and quidditchprincess!
With thank yous also going out to anyone currently planning on Reviewing/Favouriting/Alerting!
Bye!
BlackRoseGirl666
(Ps. anyone go to the Avril Lavinge concert October 1st? Completely kickass, right?)