Hi guys. So... it's been a while. I'm thinking I might focus back on this, maybe upload more regularly? Only if you want though. If nobody wants that then I probably won't continue this one. It's a lot of effort if no-one wants to read it. So let me know what you think please :)
Obviously I don't own these characters and if you didn't know that then why are you even reading this? The super talented and extreme evil genius that is Veronica Roth made these characters who they are. I'm just pinching them for a bit. Just having a wee shot :)
After lunch finished Four made us gather as a group of transfers. He gave us some speech but I was too full to bother listening. Now here we are, in another old room with creaky wooden floors and dark walls. The wallpaper is peeling, cracking and the room is filled with dust, I hide a cough, trying not to choke on the musty air. It smells like old sweat and tears, a scent that clogs of my throat and makes my brain claggy. On one wall is an old fashioned chalkboard, I haven't seen one since I was young, on the chalkboard is ominous writing. Our names.
Along another wall is a queue of punching bags, the leather broken and cracked. I can see marks on the wall created by badly aimed fists, scratches on the floor from heavy shoes. It seems well used, I don't know if that's a good or bad sign.
I trudge along behind the other initiates, already worn out from the strenuous work we had already faced. Most of us are used to no work at all, and no one here, I'm assuming, had ever shot a gun before today. I can already feel achy muscles along my upper arms and back protesting all the work they had done today. It's not over yet.
"As I said this morning next you will learn how to fight." I hear the other initiates bristle around me, some with nerves, some with excitement. "The purpose of this is to prepare you to act; to prepare your body to respond to threats and challenges-which you will need, if you intend to survive life as a dauntless. We will go over technique today, and tomorrow you will start to fight each other, so I recommend that you pay attention." Well duh. "Those who don't learn fast will get hurt." Way to state the obvious.
He starts to show us different punching techniques, I watch closely, admiring his lean body. In a completely unsexual way of course, I watch his stance and position, knowing that I would need to imitate it later if I want to get past initiation.
We move slowly towards the punch bags, as if we are frightened of them. I hear the first tentative punch hit the leather skin, creating a dull, resounding sound. I stand in my best copy of Four, practising with a few blows before I finally unleash my strength. As it turns out punching is a great way of getting rid of all your problems, I punch the bag as if it is my homesickness, my likelihood of dying or Eric's face. Anything to keep me motivated right? I see Four talking to Tris out of the corner of my eye, moving her body to the correct position. Her face goes bright red, unaccustomed to touching, as are most of the abnegation. I turn back to my punching bag, hitting it time and time again, trying to exert as much force into it as Four did in his demonstration. I feel a well of pride rise up in me when I move the bag a fraction further than before, my pride was heightened when I saw Four watching me, with an impressed look painted over his face.
When the class finally ended we got to leave, time for dinner, a smile stretched across my face.
"What's that smile for?" Will fell into step behind me, we were still a while back from where Tris' small head bobbed up and down along with the sea of initiates.
"Dinner!" I practically squeal. God. Day one and I've already shown that I'm overly addicted to food. He chuckled a warm laugh, one that comes deep from his stomach, coating me in a layer of warmth. Oh my god. What was that? Where did that come from? How could one boy's laugh reduce me to a jelly monster?
"Um, I just need to go find Tris." I mumble, stumbling away from that boy. I walk up to Tris and nudge her in the elbow, images of her red face earlier distracting me from my own embarrassing moments.
"I'm surprised he didn't break you in half," I told her, images of Four's muscular arms coming into mind. And someone else's muscular arms… I shake my head, trying to tell my brain to shut up. Four. Tris. Awkward. "He scares the hell out of me. It's that quiet voice he uses."
"Yeah he's… definitely intimidating." She glances back at Four, her eyes shining, a picture of the perfect storm. I glance around us, talking in the sights. The walls are dark, creating a great environment. I can see heads bobbing along all around us, and, despite the cave like interior, the atmosphere is friendly, inviting. I feel at home here.
"I want to get a tattoo." I look up at Al's earnest face, a hard edge already surrounding his innocent eyes.
"A tattoo of what?" I hear Will ask from behind me, I feel my cheeks heat up, as if sensing him behind me.
"I don't know. I just want to feel like I've left the old faction." Is being here not enough? "Stop crying about it. I know you've all heard me." Damn right, it'd be hard not to.
"Yeah learn to quiet down, will you?" I poke him in the arm to let him know I'm joking, even I wouldn't openly get annoyed at someone formissing their family. That would be harsh. "I think you're right," I tell him, "We're half in, half out right now. If we want all the way in, we should look the part." I give Tris a pointed look; no one will take her seriously if she still looks like the baby little push-over abnegation that arrived here. She's not like that, people need to know.
"No." She says with finality. "I will not cut my hair, or dye it a strange colour. Or pierce my face." I look down with dismay, with a face like hers, so striking, she could really make an impression. Not look so helpless.
"How about your belly button?" I ask, almost laughing at the look I can imagine appearing on her face.
"Or your nipple?" Will asks with a snort. Clearly thinking along the same lines as me. I look up his happy face, a crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he hides his laughter. Tris groans, causing the two of us to erupt into laughter, relishing the scarred look on her face.
We walk out into the pit, our mouths opening, flabbergasted by the amount of people. The floor is filled with people, laughing, hugging, chatting. We squirm through the crowd, coming to a less loud, less full area, I shout to the boys where to meet us and practically drag Tris up the small path to the clothing shop, leaving clattering stones in our wake. I pull her into the shop, standing us in front of the mirror. I look at us, quite a sight. We're bedraggled from out practise, our hair a mess, our faces still slightly red. My tall, willowy frame makes her look even smaller, her tangle of dirty blonde hair covering her face. She looks around in wonder.
"What is wrong with my clothes?" She asks blatantly, ignorantly. "I'm not wearing grey anymore." I hide a small smile, how could someone so striking not know how to dress, I suppose it's not something the abnegation ever think about. She's so thin but yet she dresses in shirts five sizes too big, the hem stopping about id thigh. Her trousers are frumpy, making her look like a boy.
"They're ugly and gigantic. Will you just let me help you?" I ask nicely, for me anyway. "If you don't like what I put you in, you never have to wear it again, I promise."
It takes me all of two minutes to pick out dress, totally daring, noticeable. She turns it down though, of course, due to its tight fit and daring neckline. Woos. A few minutes later I pick out another dress, looser thins time, and send her off to get changed while I peruse the other clothes. Soon she comes out the changing area, her arms crossed and her demeanour uncomfortable. I place her in front of the mirror and watch her eyes widen as she takes in her new look. I pull the tie from her braid, watching as her hair falls around her narrow face. She shakes her head, making her hair even looser, almost with an air of confidence. I gaze at her with a wicked smile on my face, holding up an eyeliner pencil, she gazes at me with almost disapproval.
"Eyeliner." I tell her, confused by her confusion.
"You aren't going to be able to make me pretty, you know." She closes her eyes, giving me free reign anyway. I took it, lining her lashes.
"Who cares about pretty? I'm going for noticeable." She looks at herself in the mirror, as if seeing herself for the first time. Maybe it is almost the first time for her, I doubt she saw a mirror very often at home.
"See?" I tell her. "You're striking." She smiles at me, maybe it wasn't the est compliment ever, but she seemed to appreciate it.
"You like it?" I ask, nervous that she's not happy.
"Yeah..." She gives a tentative nod. "I look like… a different person."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I ask, laughing as she resumes staring at herself, it's not a big headed thing, more like a genuine curiosity as to what she looks like.
"A good thing." She tells me, more confident this time. "Sorry, I've never been allowed to stare at my reflection this long."
"Really? Abnegation is a strange faction, I have to tell you."
"Let's go watch Al get tattooed." She says abruptly, changing the subject. Maybe it was too soon to mention the factions, I kind of meant it to stay in my head. We race down the narrow paths to the parlour, laughing giddily as we ran. We race into the tattoo place, finding Al already in a chair, being tattooed. A big burly bald man is working on him, drawing a small spider on his arm, weird choice.
I walk over to where Will is standing, flicking through the tattoo books. We turn the pages, scanning them. I spot a small silhouette of an eagle, showing it to Will. We start to flick through the books and show each other the ones we like, or the ones we find absolutely hilarious. Such as a large colourful butterfly, not very Dauntless now is it? Will shows me a page with what looks like a horse, but it has a horn.
"What the hell is that?" I ask.
"A unicorn." He tells me, his warm voice almost laughing. "Haven't you heard of them?" When I shake my head a smile lights up his face.
"It's a magical beast, it can fly and poop rainbows, all sorts of majestic things." "Why would someone from Dauntless want one of these on their bodies?"
"You'd be surprised." A gruff voice says from behind us, causing us to jump. The tattooist who is still working on Al turns around from his work to face us. "A whole bunch of idiots think it represents hope or some other crap like that. We sell way more of them than you would expect from people so tough. Usually in compromising places though, nowhere too obvious."
I glance at Will, both of us hiding smirks.
"Stupid I know." The artist sighs, turning back to Al's large frame. Tris walks into the room with another lady, walking confidently towards the chair.
"Tris whatcha doing?" I call out.
"Getting a tattoo." I hear a low whistle from beside me, exchanging glances with Will, we share the same half amused, half worried look. So not what I was expecting.
In the end we all get tattoos, Al and his spider, Tris and her birds, Will gets a small one, at the top of his spine, a small insignia for family, so he knows who he is and where he came from, he also gets the Dauntless badge underneath, to represent where he's going. And me? I get my eagle, to represent my freedom. My freedom from the stupid life I used to live.
So its quite long, I know. Thanks for reading this far if you have. I tried really hard to make this as good as I could get it. Also I'm really happy because I got to use the word flabbergasted, it's almost as good as the word discombobulated.
So thanks again for reading. If you have any questions or queries ask away :)
Bye.