"𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙚
𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚
𝘾𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮
𝙄'𝙢 𝙗𝙚𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚."
𝘙𝘪𝘴𝘦 - 𝘒𝘢𝘵𝘺 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺
▲ ▲ ▲ ▲
You land against the net and immediately suck in a deep breath. Your heart was pounding like it was trying to break out of your chest, but so far you weren't doing all that bad. Especially for an Amity. The net bounced you a few more times and you laughed as your body slowly began to realize that you hadn't died on impact.
There was a gaping hole in the ceiling like an explosion had ripped through it decades prior. If you squinted, you could see a few heads glancing over the side of the building you were just standing on before disappearing again. Adrenaline was pumping heavy in your veins when a hand reached out from the darkness and pulled the net taut, making you roll over onto your side.
You steadied yourself with an uncertain gasp, realizing a split second too late that you were now face to face with the owner of that hand.
He squinted up at you, glancing confusedly between your face and the bright orange cardigan that had fallen off of your shoulders.
"What? Did you get pushed?" He asked stoically, voice like the gravel sidewalks that stretched through the Amity homestead like vines. Frowning, you looked behind him to see at least two dozen Dauntless members whispering and snickering amongst themselves.
You tried to shift your weight without falling off the net with a frown. Yes, as a matter of fact, you had been pushed. But should you tell him that?
"It was more of a nudge, really," is what you settled for.
The stranger's lips turned up at the corners, forming the faintest suggestion of a smile before his face went blank once more. "Alright," he said, trying to shake off the impact of your joke. "Down you go."
You didn't object when his hands reached around to settle against your waist. You clung tightly to his shoulders as he lowered you down onto the cement floor carefully. Only when you felt your feet on the solid ground did you say anything else.
"Tobias Eaton?"
Just when you thought you were getting on his good side, the guy who looked all too much like Tobias Eaton frowned and rolled his shoulders back. "I'm sorry?"
"I was...I mean...I was there when you—"
"My name is Four," he interrupted with a distant look. "I think you're mistaken." The way he said it made it sound like a warning. You successfully tore down and reinforced his emotional walls in less than twenty words. He had this look in his dangerously sharp stormy blue eyes that told you to just shut up. So you did.
"What's your name, Initiate?"
You hesitated. Was this a trick question? Following orders was one of your strong suits, but this guy really had you confused. Four quirked an eyebrow down at you—because without the net you were now at least six inches shorter.
"(Y/N)," you chirped, and he nodded before turning to address the twenty-something people dressed in all black. For a few moments, you'd forgotten that they were even there.
"First jumper, (Y/N)!"
A few people whistled and you awkwardly tried to adjust your skirt that had gotten bunched up near your knees during the fall.
Four - not Tobias - shoots you another look. "Welcome to Dauntless," he says with as much kindness as you assume you'll ever get from him, before shouldering off.
Someone else jumped not long after you. A Dauntlessborn, but they screamed the entire way down, so you could only assume that Eric gave them a little 'nudge' too.
Soon you reunited with Christina and Tris—who had renamed herself after stepping off of the net. It was fitting, but she still had to grow into it. Unlike Eric, Four didn't have to step up onto a platform to get the attention of everyone in the room.
"Dauntlessborn go with Lauren, transfers stay here with me."
All of the black jackets and sweaters filed out until all that was left behind was a small group of kids dressed in an awkward array of colors. You saw Peter standing a head taller than everyone else and squinted at him. He was the one who shoved you out into the open. He practically volunteered you to jump first.
"Follow me," Four commanded, and so you did.
He walked all of you through the twisting stone passages, introducing you to the Pit, which was just a greenhouse that had been hollowed out at least five stories deep into the earth. A few Candor made crude jokes about pushing each other inside, but Four didn't laugh. It would be a while before you saw that smile again.
"You'll be sleeping here for the next ten weeks," he said in a bored tone as he showed you into a long, windowless room lined with short beds on either wall and right down the center.
Initiation happened over the course of the summer months. You were almost one hundred percent certain that this was Amity's fault. The new transfers were trained over the summer so that when the autumn came, they had dozens of new hands to help with the harvest.
"Girls or boys?" someone asks.
Four pauses and turns around. He glances at the boy standing a few feet back and then his eyes land on you as he answers. "Both."
He left without any further explanation but instructs you all to get changed into Dauntless uniform and meet back at the Pit in twenty minutes. Everyone descended upon the room, fighting for the beds closest to the door or furthest from the initiates who looked the most threatening. You don't realize that you were supposed to move until nearly every bed was claimed.
The last cot with a uniform in your size folded on top of it was well out of the way of anyone else. You were wedged in the corner, cradled by two imposing concrete walls. It was perfect.
"Well, well, well," a voice purrs behind you. You turned around and glared at Peter as he dropped his uniform onto the cot right next to yours. You were already embarrassed as it was. First, you were the entertainment of the entire Choosing Ceremony, then you were pushed off of a building, and now you were being forced to change in front of the god of judgment himself.
"Can't you go anywhere else?" you whined, dignity already out the door.
Peter snickered. "Take a look around, sunshine. Every other bed is full."
You peer over his shoulder to see that Tris and Christina were huddled together in the middle of the room. Of course, they'd gotten next to each other. Looking down at the uniform in your hands, you gulp. Maybe you can wait until everyone else leaves or hide in the bathroom to change clothes?
Peter rolled his eyes at your terrified expression, shrugging off his white blazer. "Look, I'm sorry for shoving you earlier."
"Yeah right," you mutter, turning to face the wall. You had no intention of seeing Peter Hayes strip down to his underwear.
"No, I'm serious. It was a dick move. Do you think you can accept my apology?"
You deadpanned. "Which is?"
As dramatically as humanly possible, Peter held up his blazer like a white flag of surrender. Or more accurately, like a curtain that shielded you from the rest of the room. "Do your thing, girl," he said, turning away.
You hesitated before realizing that he was completely serious. Once you snapped into action, it only took you seconds to unbutton your cardigan and discard it on the floor. You had no idea how long his kindness would last before he decided to wreak havoc on you once more.
At one point, you heard a whistle from two beds away, paired with an exclamation regarding a certain rumor about a certain body part of a certain faction. You didn't even have time to register what they said before Peter snapped at them, holding his coat even higher so that they couldn't see your face. "Shut the fuck up and give the lady some privacy!"
When you were all done, you pulled the blazer down and mumbled your thanks to Peter. He shrugged, tossing it into the pile of your combined discarded clothes. The colors to communities you no longer belonged to.
"No problem," he said, not even trying to hide the fact that he was eyeing your new clothes. You didn't blame him. The Dauntless uniform was a far cry from your usual choice of long, flowing skirts and loose cotton blouses. It would be leather, denim, and spandex from here on out.
Later, when they lined you up and ordered you to throw your old clothes into the ritual bonfire, you didn't mourn the loss of your old identity. Maybe because you were already so far from home that it didn't matter what you wore or how you presented yourself. Or maybe because when you threw in your favorite orange cardigan, it blended in so perfectly with the yellowed flames that you figured it must've known that it would one day be set aflame.
(A/N: I don't know what possessed me to update this today. I started working on one of my horror books because it's halloween --happy halloween-- but ultimately started writing this chapter. Uhm so this was unintentional but I like what I did with the color thing. The pile of clothes, Peter's white and y/n's orange/red. It's kinda symbolic cause white is the color associated with purity and red/orange are the colors of fire. And there's a whole idea that fire cleanses or makes pure. I could write a whole book report about my own story. I digress. Have a fun and safe halloween!! comment about any mistakes!)