Fandom Divergent: Faction Before Blood // RP Thread

[Aviator]

Ghost // Male // Age 18 // Training Instructor // Erudite to Dauntless
​

Ghost had learned long ago to trust no one. Now he knew to trust nothing. As he walked the halls of the initiates’ stomping grounds—unnaturally still and silent at a time of day when their usual occupants were carousing in the upper levels of the compound, probably drinking and dancing in trashy clubs—a small stab of fear went through him. No longer could he trust his understanding of the simplest laws of the universe, of the very framework of his reality. After Blair’s sudden manifestation of impossible power, it was clear that the world was playing by a whole different set of rules from the ones that Ghost had learned as a small child, and he would have to relearn everything from scratch. It was like having devoted hours of studying to a physics exam, only to realize at the moment of the exam that European history was the category instead.
The events that had unfolded in the testing room not even an hour ago were about as realistic as the sun failing to rise tomorrow. And what if it didn’t? Who could say anything with certainty anymore? His mind felt like an overstuffed toy, bursting at the seams. The welt on the back of his head pulsed painfully with every step, and his ribs flamed if he breathed too sharply. Ghost vigorously twisted a wisp of hair around his finger, as if the more energy he devoted to the task would dampen the severity of his current situation. Possibly losing his mind was the crown jewel in his rapidly growing list of problems, only this was one he probably couldn’t think his way out of—
Distracted or not, four years of living on the streets had honed a certain survival instinct within Ghost. When rapid footsteps sounded behind him, around the corner, he turned, one hand already reaching inside his coat. A list of potential assailants who had reason to want him dead cycled through his thoughts, but the blond head and soft curves that turned the corner belonged to none of them. Ghost scowled and released his Beretta. “You,” he said, almost accusatory as Brandish Rose bounced up to him in a dark blur of revealing clothes and tattooed skin. It was not a particularly warm reception, but Randi approached as smoothly as if Ghost had welcomed her with open arms. What did she want now? Compensation for keeping his and Leah’s secret under wraps? “A grievous miscalculation on my part, I see,” he deadpanned, unsure if her comment was meant as a joke or the beginnings of a threat. The memory of their public confrontation earlier today had teeth, and they sank into Ghost. Don’t you have someone else to annoy? he seethed.
And so he was surprised to hear Randi apologize instead. Stronger than his surprise, however, was a mix of anger and embarrassment at the way she had called him out in front of the other initiates, and his embarrassment only fueled his anger, redoubling it. People did not humiliate the Holy Ghost and get away scot-free. “You were, and you do not,” he agreed in a cold and brisk voice. “I felt your intrusion deeply personally. However...” Ghost’s expression turned pensive, and he propped his chin on one hand and that elbow on the opposite palm. He stared at something past Randi for a moment and finally admitted, “I suppose they were words I needed to hear. I accept your apology.” The truth beat inside him like a second heart, and the scholar in him knew that he couldn’t fault Randi for speaking it, even if he didn’t like it. Without her criticism, he probably never would have found the courage to approach Leah, and would still be stewing in uncertainty about where they stood.
Considering their business finished, Ghost turned to go. He only got one step down the hallway when Randi blurted something out about whether he would be willing to spar with her. He glanced at her over his shoulder, one eyebrow cocked. “Do you always look to cement your apologies in the kinship of a spar?” he asked, not unkindly. “You are a very strange girl, Brandish Rose, and this is coming from a very strange man.” Not that he would say it, but Ghost did find strangeness preferable to normalcy—most of the time. He turned to regard her more fully. “It’s funny you should ask; I was actually just on my way to train. However, I was not counting on company, so I shall have to turn you down. Thanks anyway.”
Ghost had barely finished when, on the heels of his words, Randi declared that she wanted the opportunity to learn from a master. “Flattery will get you nowhere, strange girl,” he chided, but he was amused at the ridiculousness of her claim. It had to be fairly evident from Ghost’s slight build and pristine suits that his lifestyle was largely sedentary. “Well, there is something I’ve been wanting to try out…” he reconsidered. “So if you can help me with that, then I suppose we can come to an arrangement. What will we be sparring with? I’m probably no match for you in a hand-to-hand fight, and with knives I would slice you apart.” Randi suggested miscellaneous weapons, and Ghost tilted his head, waiting for her to elaborate. Anything except the weapons they had trained with during Phase One of initiation, she said—so no knives or guns.
He frowned. Those happened to be the only two weapons with which he had any real proficiency, simply because they were the most available and often the most effective. However, this called to mind the fact that Ghost knew no weaponry that the average Dauntless citizen didn’t, and this fact didn’t sit well with him. In no context did he like being an average Dauntless citizen. Fine, then. Ghost was a gifted learner, and so he would learn something that set him apart from the crowd. He had one idea in mind already. “You have a deal,” he told Randi with a decisive nod, grimly aware of how much more his aching head and chest would hurt after sparring. He would make the pain worth it. Randi looked at him, asking what was the thing Ghost had wanted to try out. “Oh, that,” he mused, feeling equal parts excited, self-conscious, and batshit crazy. He ran a nervous hand through his hair. There was no one else in the hallway, but that didn’t mean that no one else wasn’t listening. Ghost knew he was probably being paranoid, but he wouldn’t have survived so long otherwise. He ducked close to Randi and bent so that his mouth was next to her ear. He whispered something, pulled away. She smiled. He returned it, just a little.

* * *​

Caspian Maddox was a dumbass. Most of the time he was a lovable dumbass, but it remained a certified, objective truth. Usually Ghost cursed him for it, but today he thanked his lucky stars on account of his roommate and former instructor’s dumbassery. To retrieve their miscellaneous weapons, Ghost and Randi had temporarily split up, Randi supposedly heading to a club at which she worked, and Ghost to the training arena where he and the other instructors had conducted Phase One of initiation. And then after this he would have to make a stop at the chemical storage unit where instructors obtained the serums for the latter phases of initiation… Ghost’s mind whirled, calculating the route that would take him from there and to the testing rooms in the shortest amount of time, so that Randi wouldn’t be kept waiting for too long.
The door to the training arena opened on silent hinges. Now that it was no longer being used on a regular basis, the crisp scent of cleaning supplies slammed into him like a physical force. The room was in a rare state of order; Ghost was a stickler for organization, but despite his best attempts, there were always jump ropes or weights littered on the floor at the end of the day, and the blue mats padding the walls and floors typically smelled like feet. To see it so sparklingly spotless for the first time in weeks was such a precious sight to behold that Ghost paused in the doorway for a moment, committing the image to memory.
There was a quiet grunt from a nearby corner, and he craned past the door to see Harper Day affixed to a pull-up bar, hard at work. Her back was to him, and Ghost’s movements had been as hauntingly silent as usual; he doubted she’d noticed him. He slipped inside the room like a wraith, materializing at her side and just a step behind. When he was positive that all of her attention was focused on her exercise, he spoke. “Did you know that dead hangs can make you taller?” Harper’s head whipped toward him, and Ghost managed to maintain a neutral expression, giving no indication that he was being anything other than serious. “Yes, it’s true,” he continued, pretending to understand her surprise as a reaction to his information. “Dead hangs reverse the compression of one’s spine, making one slightly taller—at least until the spine compresses again. But in tall people, it can make a half inch of difference. Not that being too short has probably ever been a problem for you,” he finished, regarding Harper with large, sincere eyes, hands calmly clasped behind his back.
“Harper,” he drawled, letting her name tarry on his tongue. As a colleague and someone whom he had known before transferring, Ghost had no qualms calling her by her first name. It didn’t feel weird the way that it would have with an initiate. “You are aware of the gravity of the current Divergent situation, are you not?” Most Dauntless, when referring to Divergents, either whispered the word or skipped over it entirely, allowing the scandalous lapse in conversation to communicate their meaning to their fellows all on its own, as if it were a swear word of the worst kind. Not Ghost, though. He wielded the word like he would any other because, after the manic episode he had witnessed from Blair Avalon an hour ago, he felt he had every right to. Unlike other Dauntless, Ghost actually knew what the word meant, and that clandestine knowledge allowed him to say it however he damn pleased.
“I’m not going to insult your intelligence with the propaganda, but I trust that you’re a loyal member of your faction. That being said, I wish for you to make a copy of all the notes you’ve taken so far of initiates’ fear simulations—times, content of the sims, any unusual details you noticed—and please have it ready to give to me during tomorrow’s training. Now that Caspian has been absent for an extended period, it’s my responsibility to write up a full report of initiation’s activities to deliver to leadership, and that includes any strange occurrences that might indicate the presence of Divergents among this year’s class. Your compliance will be greatly appreciated.” Ghost listened to her reply, then started toward the supply closet, which had been his reason for visiting the training arena to begin with. Harper had no way of knowing that the entirety of his implied intentions with the information were lies.
In addition to being a lovable dumbass, Caspian also had a penchant for laziness, especially when it came to going up stairs and making unnecessary trips back to his and Ghost’s apartment. That was why he hid a small cache of personal belongings in a discreet trunk in the furthest corner of the supply closet, supposedly so that after work ended, he had all his workout and sparring equipment onhand. Never mind that the trunk wasn’t locked, or wasn’t quite as unnoticeable as Caspian liked to think, rendering it vulnerable to pillaging by initiates. Come on, please still be there, Ghost hoped as he swatted away all the boxes and bags atop the trunk and dragged it a little ways out into the open. When he flipped the top up, he was greeted by a chaotic assortment of water bottles, weights, knives, ammo cartridges, racy magazines, a yoga mat… and finally.
Buried all the way at the bottom, just as Ghost would have expected of a sword that Caspian almost never used. With careful hands, he unearthed the miscellaneous debris obscuring the black leather scabbard and lifted it from the trunk. The white trim on the scabbard gleamed in the warm light of the closet. He scraped the saber free of its sheath, beholding three feet of steel with a wickedly curved blade and a sweeping handguard. Part of the reason for Caspian’s dumbassery had to do with that handguard: it was a left-handed sword, when Caspian was right-handed. Apparently, he had purchased the blade remotely and claimed he’d never been informed of that detail at the time. As a left-hander, Ghost was always acutely aware of the handedness of whatever weapon he bought, in person or not; it was hard to overlook the fact that the vast majority of pistols were made to be wielded in the right hand. And the fact that Caspian was incapable of using the saber with his dominant hand meant that Ghost had a mint-condition weapon for his sparring session with Randi.
As he reorganized the supply closet, flicked the light off, and left, Ghost passed Harper, who was, amazingly, still going strong with her pull-ups. He noticed that the sword she usually carried around was conspicuously absent. He had never seen her use it, but he knew enough of Harper’s character to trust that she was competent with the sword. Perhaps he would ask her for a lesson sometime… assuming he emerged from his spar with Randi still in one piece.

* * *​

“That just about does it, I think,” Ghost announced an hour later, holding the serum he’d concocted step by step up to the light, so that he could view its contents. The sediment at the bottom of the beaker appeared to have dissolved completely, but he swirled it for good measure. Randi asked whether she had done a good job of reading off the instructions to him, and he set the beaker down, swiveling to where she sat along the length of countertop in Caspian’s—now Maverick’s—testing room, since Ghost’s was still conspicuously missing much of its furniture, including a working computer. One key opened all four testing rooms, and logging onto Caspian’s old computer had been easy enough, when his pin number at any given time was the birthday of his latest girlfriend. Testing rooms were supposed to be off limits anytime outside of training, but after having just suffered Blair’s telekinetic meltdown in an identical room during which no one had taken notice and come to intervene on his behalf, Ghost doubted that threat held much weight. The custodians weren’t supposed to make their rounds for another two hours, anyway.
Randi kicked her scantily-clad legs as she watched Ghost, and he couldn’t help but feel that she was doing it for his benefit. She could try all she liked; what with the recent drama with Leah, Ghost needed a good long break from girls and decided that he was temporarily reverting to his old ways of uninvolvement. “Well, that depends,” he answered, blinking at her from behind the safety goggles that he had filched from the chemical storage unit, along with all the other lab equipment. “We’ll find out soon enough if we don’t poison ourselves and the simulation goes as planned.” Wary that she would try to play a prank on him and deliberately read off false instructions, he’d reminded Randi several times that the consequences could be dire if they ingested the wrong proportion of substances. He removed the goggles and washed his hands for what was probably the tenth time since they had entered the testing room. “I’ve never done this before, but I’ve heard it’s supposed to be fun. Like virtual reality, kind of.” A small voice in the back of his head asked whenever was his idea of fun congruent with that of a Dauntless-born, but Ghost chose to ignore it for now.
He entered some numbers on a window that had popped up on the computer. “I’m going to reduce the perception of wounds—aka pain—to thirty percent of what it would be in reality. That way, you and I don’t kill ourselves, but at the same time, it’s not completely unrealistic, either. A fight where only a fatal blow impedes an opponent is very different from an actual fight.” Ghost used the phrase “kill ourselves” figuratively; in the simulation that he and Randi would be entering, neither of them could die, nor would any wounds they sustained translate to real life upon completion of the simulation. The simulation operated via a variant of the hallucinogens used in the fear serum, which created an artificial environment around the user while their real-world bodies remained unconscious. However, much like in the fear landscapes of Phase Three of initiation, Ghost and Randi would retain their awareness of the simulation while in it. Supposedly, they would appear in their current forms, together in a shared simulation, with all the weapons and other equipment they carried on their persons at the time that they took the serum. It was essentially an elaborate way for Ghost and Randi to use real weapons while sparring without the risk of hurting each other.
On another window, he selected random for the form that the simulated environment would take. That way, neither he nor Randi could complain of being disadvantaged by the other’s choice. Then he snatched up the beaker and the pale pistachio-green liquid it contained, only a few shades off white. Ghost poured and measured the contents into two glass vials. Unlike the fear serum, this one was taken orally, not injected. With the vials in hand, he crossed the room to Randi, who clambered down from the countertop and settled into a chair. Ghost took the seat directly across from her and handed her one of the two vials, the saber at his belt gently jostling against his leg as he moved. “Loser pays for coffee afterward?” he suggested, feeling daring and knowing that he’d be due for another caffeine boost in an hour. Not that the bet would push Ghost to try any harder—his competitive nature would do all that on its own. But robbing a Dauntless-born of coffee afterward would be the perfect way to celebrate his impending victory. Randi nodded enthusiastically. “Noted, then. See you on the other side,” Ghost said as a kind of cheers. He and Randi clinked vials and drank.

 

[Nerdy.]

Charlotte "Charlie" Stark || 20 || Medic || Dauntlessborn

Charlie watched the boy in front of her as his eyes gently drifted over her body. She shivered and struggled to ignore the urge to cover herself as best she could from his wondering eyes. He was tall, certainly handsome, he had a large presence although he did not seem as intimidating as someone might have thought. Yet wondering eyes was always something Charlie felt was terrifying, what was he looking at? Her body? She blushed faintly, still catching her breath from the abrupt stop from her run. Finally he spoke, and she softly laughed, a smile lighting upon her face. "I was not running from anyone. I just had spare time, and thought I should run." She answered, smiling up at Jaxom with soft features and a curious look. She wondered about this boy, he was from.. Candor, from what she remembered, and she was not overly informed on the nature of that place. The only other initiate that she had had interaction from, that was from Candor, was Bastian, and he had been such an ass and a dangerous person that she was almost glad that he had disappeared. He had scared her, and he had been friends with the awful Julian, who had almost raped Aubrey. Shaking herself from her own thoughts, Charlie bit her lip softly, before branching a conversation with the boy in front of her. "Well then, if you are not busy, I am curious about your previous faction, would you like to walk with me? I'd love to hear about it, I know very little about Candor." She gently asked, hoping to get to know this strange young man a bit. It was good to know them... Except when they failed initiation, and then it was sad. But Jaxom looked more than capable of making it into Dauntless.

As they walked, Charlie shivered slightly, because she had taken off her jacket, and had stopped running, she had nothing keeping her warm, so as they walked together, Charlie slowly wrapped her arms around herself in order to warm herself up a little. She was not going to make a fuss, nor bother Jaxom about it, but it was something small she felt. It was probably a bad sign, that she was cold, she probably was eating enough, nor was she sleeping. Yet she couldn't bring herself to make or get food, the events that she'd held with Ghost had sort of shaken her, and she knew not where their... relationship - if it could be called that - was going, or was now. She only knew that when she had finally taken initiative it had gone horribly wrong, and trying to open up to Ghost had failed miserably. Maybe she was being dramatic, she knew that was highly likely, Ghost probably didn't even think about it anymore, and had probably just been sore and tired like he had acclaimed to be. Yet Charlie was, as females usually are, prone to over thinking, and her mind whirred when she wasn't busy, trying to understand the likes of people like Ghost.

Again Charlie had to shake herself out of her thoughts, and back to the boy who was still walking with her, she was glad he hadn't started talking yet, since she had been deep in (stupid) thought about something that was unimportant. She decided to ask a more forward question, curious to the boy's origin. "So, do you have much family back in Candor?" She asked Jaxom, turning her head to gaze at the boy with her chocolate brown eyes.

Interacting with: Jaxom Wolfiee

Aubrey Amber Stark || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn

Aubrey grinned as both Finn and Randi loved her idea, it made her happy that something like that was causing them both to laugh. She wondered if Finn would actually do it. "Can you imagine how Ghost would feel if he saw it? I mean, you literally beat him in a hand to hand combat, which was totally amazing! I mean I also beat Maggie in a knife contest which was also amazing.. I wonder where she went? Did anyone ever hear about her? She sort of just disappeared and then we got Harper, and then Caspian disappeared and we got Maverick! And that was TOTALLY crazy because I totally thought he was dead! Which he wasn't! Obviously, but damn I was so upset at him for that, do you remember hanging out with him when we were all little Finn? Wasn't that fun? And now he's an instructor and I feel like that's so unfair that he just disappeared forever..." Aubrey's mouth felt dry suddenly, and she coughed softly, clearing her throat, ahh, her time to shut up now. She swallowed, trying to cause her mouth to salivate in order to decrease the dryness. Why was it dry? Was she nervous? Was she scared? The mention of the word scared caused her heart to thump hard in her chest and she found her body freezing up, her chest tightening. There was NOTHING around here that was scaring her, so why did she still feel terrified? It wasn't like she was thinking of her fear simulation... However... As her mind brought it up, she began to think on it some more. About how Julian and Bastian had taken her, and had touched her and tried to do things to her. Oh how she hated those two boys, and... how she... was so scared of them. Aubrey bit her lip, her feet dragging across the ground as they finally got to the tattoo parlour. It was good that they were doing something like this, the sharp pain of the tattoo gun would calm her. She took a deep sigh, the bubbliness of previous had gone, and she had drifted to a low depressing mood.

Aubrey looked at the designs for a bit, and finally found a design of a dagger that was very much like the ones she preferred to use, with some delicate embellishments on the handle. She took it to one of the tattooists and sat back, giving them her arm to work on. She was sad her mother wasn't here, but at the same time she was glad. Her mother made her happy and calm, but she also didn't want to feel the way she did right now, around her. She looked at Finn, who sat nearby her, and she blinked slowly. She needed to talk to Finn, right after this. She needed him to know about Charlie, about how someone was hurting Charlie, and her mum. Aubrey nibbled at her bottom lip, ripping up the chapped skin that had arrived due to the dryness of her mouth. She hardly felt the pricks of the tattoist, and she was almost oblivious to the fact that it was done, until the tattoo artist finally told her. She blinked dreamily at the man who had done her arm, then back at her arm, smiling at the tattoo. "Cool." She said simply, jumping off the chair, paying, and then walking over to Finn and Randi. They all oohed and aahed over each others tattoos, before Randi said she had to leave. Aubrey looked at Finn and grabbed his arm. "Come with me, we have to talk." She said, and grabbing his hand, she ran.

They ran for a bit, until they were far away enough from anywhere that they would not be overheard talking. Even so, Aubrey looked around a whole lot before she plopped down to sit, catching her breath. They were outside of the compound, and at a random area where there was simply a few trees and some unused houses, nothing spectacular. Finn sat beside her, his eyes obviously displaying his curiousity and worry for what Aubrey was about to inform him about. She took a deep breath, and then sidled up next to him, so that their shoulders were touching, she needed to be very close to him so nobody could hear them... plus... he comforted her when they were so close. She leaned closely, talking in a low voice, her breath likely to be tickling his neck. "You cannot tell anyone, and you must keep it a secret. This is really important and really confidential... Jeremy.. Jeremy Daniels, one of the leaders of Dauntless, you know him right? He's huuuuuge, and has really long hair and heaps of tattoos... Anyway.. He came up to me, said he was an old friend of mums, and he said he's always looked out for her and us daughters, from afar though, as to not disturb us or play favourites to the initiates etc... Anyway... He said that he found out that Charlie's got a suitor, or a boyfriend, or a lover or something, and that this person has been beating her up! I mean, I know Charlie sometimes got bruises but apparently they're not from training but from someone actually beating her! My sister! Finn this is serious, you have to help me..." Aubrey grabbed Finn's hands, and intertwined her fingers with his, she found that her body was shaking, shivering actually, not from cold, but out of fear. Who was she? Was she a woman of fear? Or of bravery? "I love Charlie, and I can't trust anyone else, I have to save her. I can't talk to mum, because apparently the person beating up Charlie is beating up mum as well... Oh Finn... Who would do something like that to Charlie and mum? We have to find him, and then hurt him... and tell Jeremy, so that Jeremy can... do whatever it is he will do to him. Apparently he's... got Charlie terrified, and she would never let anyone know about him because she's so scared. Oh Finn, you will help me won't you? I need you.." Aubrey almost choked on those last words, not because they were wrong, but because they were true... She did need him. And she hated that. She stared at him, her blue eyes imploring him to help. Her hand gripping his tightly, and her body leaning into him for comfort.

Interacting with: Randi Sanctuaryforall1 Finn Baratheon

Christian "Chris" Parks || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn

Blank unless someone wants an interaction with him.

 

[WanderLust.]

Maverick Maddox // 18 // Dauntless Born // Instructor
Interacting With: Poppy Wolfiee

Poppy’s father was... alive? How could that be possible? Every one had presumed he was dead, granted his body had never been found. There were many in dauntless who believed that Poppy’s father had been responsible for the murder of her mother. If man had dared shown his face anywhere in the dauntless compound surely this would’ve raised questions? Surely he would’ve been caught by now... then again, Maverick has lived in dauntless for years under an alias and nobody had ever suspected that he was the famously deceased youngest Maddox son. Maybe it was possible after all... Any feelings of guilt that Maverick had went out the window as he began to realize there were bigger issues at hand. If this man had really murdered Poppy’s mother, than his presence was putting Poppy herself in danger.

Waves of different emotions washed over Mavericks face. Confusions, suspicion, worry, anger, fear... until finally he set his jaw, and a deep seeded instinct to protect took over. “He wants you to meet him? Alone...? Poppy that’s...” he caught himself before he finished the sentence. He had to remind himself he wasn’t her father or her boyfriend, he was simply her instructor. What right did he have to tell her what she could or couldn’t do? “Are you sure that’s the wisest idea?” He finished through gritted teeth. Poppy was not his responsibility outside of training, and yet there was no way in hell he was about to let her put herself in harms way if he had anything to say about it.

Suddenly his facial features softened. He had been so concerned with her physical well being, he hadn’t stopped to see how this had mentally affected her. He reached out to twirl a strand of her dark hair around his finger absent mindedly “are you... ok?” Poppy was a strong woman, but even dauntless sometimes got rattled, he of all people understood that more than most. Realizing he was still playing with her hair he quickly released his grasp on her dark locks. God why couldn’t he stop getting involved with initiates? He shouldn’t be this close to her, shouldn’t be touching her the way he was, shouldn’t have let that kiss happen in the first place, and yet here he was, inches away from her, doing everything in his power to keep her safe. Maybe he should’ve talked to her about the kiss, maybe he should’ve set some boundaries, but he senses maybe now wasn’t the right time to talk about it. Poppy seemed to have more on her mind that a silly little kiss, and Maverick was daft to think he played such a large role in her life. Clearly that kiss had been a spur of the moment thing... right? It was hardly even worth discussing... right?

Blair Avalon // 16 // Dauntless Born // Initiate // Divergent
Interacting With: Thorn Sanctuaryforall1​

Blair had left the testing room feeling simultaneously hopeful and mortified. There was no turning back now, Ghost knew her secret, she had practically handed him her compliance on a silver platter and she detested herself for it. However, a part of her felt relieved that she no longer had to bear the burden of her divergency alone. As if confessing to Ghost meant he had to share the load with her somehow. The rational part of her knew that wasn’t true. If shit hit the fan for Ghost, he could easily throw Blair under the bus the moment she ceased to be useful to him. Their strained alliance was relying solely on the fact that as of right now, she was valuable to him, but there was no guarantee that she would remainvaluable to him. It was an alliance formed on the thinnest of mutual benefits, and Blair was making the same mistake she always did. She was searching for the best in Ghost. She wanted a reason to trust him, because Blair always looked for the good in people, even if it wasn’t actually there.

Blair did not trust Ghost, but for now, she needed him, so she would have to trust him. Perhaps him letting her keep the gun had been a true gesture of good intent. She was once again reminded of the unfamiliar pressure against her waistband where the gun currently rested against her waist, and the creeping realization that she was walking around the dauntless compound with a gun on her didn’t escape her attention. Perhaps that was why she was walking so fast, she didn’t want to run into anybody and explain why she had a gun. The blonde didn’t know where exactly she was headed, only that it was away from the testing rooms. Her footsteps were light as she paced forward, her hand slowly reaching for the gun to assure herself that it was still there. It was at that exact moment that her body collided with something solid, and the petite girl was sent crashing towards the floor.

In a flash, she felt steady arms grab her, just inches away from hitting the floor. She had squeezed her eyes shut, embracing herself for the impact, but those aqua orbs snapped open when she heard the soft thud of an object hitting the ground. The gun. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she immediately twisted out of her rescuers grip to grab the weapon, only to see a pack of cards on the floor. Son of a bitch. She couldn’t hide the tiny smile that crept to her lips when she realized the holy Ghost had pick pocketed her. However, he hadn’t left her empty handed. He had gifted her a pack of playing cards? The cards he was incessantly fidgeting with whenever he deemed conversation not worthy of his attention. She heard a string of apologies thrown her way and immediately chimed in “No! No…” she said sheepishly, grabbing the cards and tucking them back into her waistband, still remaining on the floor as she brushed some messy tresses of her long blonde hair out of her face. “I’m fine… I wasn’t watching where I was going and I…” That was when her eyes landed on another object that now lay discarded on the ground. It was some sort of thin metal, almost wire like, that had clearly been twisted and bent into a shape that closely resembled a tree. She stared at it a moment, wondering what it was before reaching out and grabbing it.

As Blair rose to her feet eyes landed on a familiar, yet unfamiliar face. “Thorn?” He was another dauntless born, and they knew each other in passing, but they had never been close. That being said, she had always found him to be more tolerable than some of the other brutes in dauntless. She wanted to ask him what he was doing out so late but knew that would only provoke him to ask her the same question, and she didn’t feel like thinking up a lie to make herself seem less suspicious. “I think you dropped this.” She said softly, holding out the metal tree for him to take. As she stared at it, waiting for him to take it, she was once again mesmerized by the craftsmanship, “Did you make this?” she tilted her head softly “It’s beautiful…”

​

 

[Baratheon]

Finn Day

The laughter of the three friends made Finn go back in time for a few moments. Before the initiation, before the struggles of late teenage-hood, before all of their worries became reality. For a moment they were children, the light still shining in their eyes. Finn wondered where that had gone. But moments are only such that, and the laughter soon died off. Still, a smile remained as they reached the tattoo parlor. The boy could only agree with the two girls' ideas for their designs. Randi would look awesome and Aubrey would only look more and more beautiful. And really cool, too.

Aubrey chattered on as they walked, mentioning Maggie, his sister, Caspian, and Maverick all in one breath. He turned his smile to her. She spoke fast, but he could keep up. Harper had even joked that the only reason they were friends was because they were the only two who could keep up with each other's lightning-fast speech pattern. Finn liked to think it was a little more than that, but that could have played a large part. "Yeah! Good times. I wonder where they're all at now. Maybe a secret mission? Maybe someone took them out because they knew too much? Haha, as if-"

His tone was joking; he wanted to say more, but Aubrey's mood shifted suddenly. He frowned at the sight, but as they drew near to the parlor, decided to let it go. He wandered in, eyes gazing across the walls of the parlor. Aubrey even seemed to perk up a little at the sight. There seemed to be new designs every time he went in. He hadn't been here as often as some of the Dauntless initiates, but he still knew the drill. He waited for his two companions to find their ideas, then went to find an artist to explain his unique idea. For a moment, the words caught in his throat. Did he want the wings? Or the ghost? The former was way cooler, but the latter had more meaning to it. Anyways, wasn't Aubrey getting a back tattoo? He didn't want to steal any of her thunder. Was that selfless? Nah, that was just being a friend. He snapped back to reality, blinking hastily. The artist in front of him blinked, looking terribly bored with his life. Finn gave an apologetic smile.

He finally decided on a ghost being pierced by a blade on his upper right chest. The artist seemed fond of the idea, and it didn't take long for him to begin. The needle stung a little, but Finn forced himself to think of other things. Aubrey, his simulations, the train, food, anything. He didn't look down at the needle much except to check the progress. He messed with a loose string on the arm of his chair, heaving a sigh. What to do for the rest of the day? Randi had mentioned getting drinks, which he would like. His brother had mentioned some kind of black cherry seltzer the other day that had sparked the teen's interest. Tasty.

Soon enough, the design was done. The artist had doe excellent shading. Finn thanked him and hopped out of his seat. Both girls were already done. Randi's looked super cool, and Aubrey's was fantastic. He oohed and ahhed over the blade design. He was surprised she hadn't gotten a back one, but the blade was more fitting to who she was. Despite the new ink, though, his best friend still looked down. Thankfully, Randi mentioned needing to leave and was soon heading off on her own. "See ya!" Finn waved and turned back to Aubrey, curious as to what was getting her in such an off-mood. Had something happened to her? He already knew her fear simulation had been bad. Was that it? To his surprise, he didn't even need to ask.

Before he knew what was happening, Aubrey had taken his hand and they were off.

If this had been some kind of cartoon or movie, this would have been in slow motion. Finn's eyes would have stars in them, and he'd be gasping in delight as the girl of his dreams took his hand and ran with him.

But this was reality, and bad news awaited him rather than a night of adventure and romance. They were outside, the area around them unassuming. He peered at her with narrowed, curious eyes. They had to talk about what? There was obviously quite a bit, but what was bad enough to have Aubrey in this state? He sat down next to her and she sidled up beside him, in a position they had often found themselves in. She held him up and he rested on her. She took a breath, then began to speak in a low tone. Despite their positioning, he found he had to really concentrate to hear what she was saying.

As she spoke, Finn found himself getting more and more lost in her story, in his own thoughts, his own fears. Someone was... hurting Charlie? He glanced down at the girl beside him, anger flaring up in his veins. He loved Charlie like a sister, and, even now, she had always looked out for him. He owed her his life. To hear someone was treating her badly and that she was hiding it from those she loved most... the teen's blood began to boil. Aubrey pleaded for his help, intertwining her fingers with his. In any other situation, that would have been magical; now, however, it was desperate and sad. He would gladly hunt down this person, make them feel pain, force them to face justice for their actions. For the first time in awhile, Finn felt pure anger, like fire in his chest. He felt like a Dauntless.

"Absolutely, Aubrey. We'll find this person, whatever it takes," He told her, seething, "I love Charlie. Anyone who thinks they can treat her like that needs to go through me first. And you. I can't imagine why she would hide something like that. And your mother too! Are we not supposed to be brave?! We will find this person. I'm so sorry, you shouldn't have to deal with this." Finn let out a few harried breaths. He released his grip on Aubrey, not realizing he had been holding it so tight. However, as he took his hand away, he felt as if it was... well, sticking to her. Their fingers were no longer interlocked, yet their palms stayed together as if glued. He gazed at it for a moment, not understanding. His anger halted briefly with confusion, and their hands were released. The moment lasted barely a few seconds. He shook his head and stood quickly, whipping around to face her. He didn't care if he abandoned her comforting position. "Do we have any clues? Leads? Can we force Charlie to tell us anything?"

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​

Harper Day

Her arms were burning with effort as she reached the end of her set. Harper lowered herself and was about to lift again when a voice, clear and sudden as a shadow appeared on her side. She gasped lightly and nearly let go; if it weren't for her trained reflexes, she might have fallen. Seeing that it was Ghost, her expression soured. Of course. The young woman lowered herself to the ground, breathing heavily, and placed a hand on her hip. "Is that so?" She responded in a breathy way, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She knew the man in front of her would go giggle about this later on his own. She reached for her water and took a long sip as he continued, mentioning that she would never know what being short was like. She had to smirk at that. Yeah, she was quite fond of her somewhat intimidating stature. "Is this something you've taken a lot of time pondering? Maybe you should do some."

Her retort seemed to fall on deaf ears as Ghost continued his tirade, saying her name in a drawn-out manner as if they were pals. While Harper felt it weird to call the man anything other then his acquired nickname, the fact he used her own real name didn't come as a surprise. They weren't friends, but they had known each other a long time. Had a history, even, not that she would speak of it. However, what he said next did catch her a little off-guard. Divergents? Why would he bring that up? It was something all instructors were briefed on, but her encounter with Fable earlier had been the only recent time she had thought about it. What was Ghost doing thinking about that kind of stuff? He spoke about it like it was an everyday topic; Harper herself probably would have refrained from using such a word in a casual setting. If higher-ups heard, they could be down her back in a moment's notice. She didn't want that kind of attention on her.

Ghost drawled on, his professionalism making her sick. Usually there would be some kind of nasty blow in there somewhere, but for once, this seemed to be a real discussion between two instructors. Interesting. Harper knew Ghost well enough to know he would never do something without being able to get something out of it for himself. This Divergent talk was probably no different. Did he know something she didn't? Was he trying to see if she knew anything? Whatever the cause, he had nothing to worry about. She was a loyal member of the faction. Any kind of Divergent activity she noticed, she would report. Even Fable's. Harper narrowed her eyes briefly as Ghost finished, his gaze calm and sincere. She nodded slowly back at him, letting out a long breath.

'We're supposed to report stuff like that directly to the leaders," She responded, turning her eyes down to her arm. A small itch revealed a loose string there, which she picked off. Her eyes returned to his. "But if you so desperately need it, I'll let you know if I see anything."

She wanted to ask him why, what he knew, what was going on, but held her tongue. As if the Ghost himself would reveal any secrets. He probably loved the fact that she was so in the dark. After all, he was lead instructor. She was under his authority, for the most part. Seemingly satisfied, Ghost walked off and started to do his own thing. The dark-haired woman watched him for a few moments. Really? Just a professional chat? She was surprised, even a little amused. He had something up his sleeve, but both of them had made it out without putting a blade to the other's throat. Were they growing up a little? Accepting responsibility? Whatever it was, Harper felt a little uneasy. His request was odd and his demeanor even more so. She'd keep an eye out, but not for him. If anyone found a Divergent, she would be first.

Harper turned back to the bar and reached up, hoisting herself back into pull-up position. Such exercises were hard for women due to their weaker upper body strength. Good thing she was stronger than most.

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​

 

[paralyzed]

Night Scott | Abnegation-born, Dauntless initiate.


Interactions: Bella/ MWMASkairipa


At hearing that Bella had nowhere to be currently and that she could go for some fresh air made Night glad that he could continue the conversation he was having with her. His mind pondered on what he would say as he walked outside, a cool breeze rushing through the air. He inhaled a breath of it and was glad that wherever he was, there would be air for him to breathe. He could start this off by asking something simple, like what her favorite color was. He would have to tell her his favorite color as well but he would need to think on that. “So,” he said breaking the silence. “Question, what's your favorite color?” After hearing her response, his mind conjured a past memory which he had forgot he owned. “I personally don’t have a specific one I enjoy over the others but I do know that most of my favorite colors are of the pastel shade. There’s just something about them, like once when I was a kid, there was this sunset in the sky but it was covered by clouds which shone with pastel colors of pink, orange, and a bluish purple. It brought so much color into the dullness of abnegation and I was just amazed by it. It looked so, soft, like cotton candy which happened to be a myth to me back then. I still haven’t tasted it, maybe we have it here at dauntless, or maybe they would consider it ‘childish.’ Either way, I wouldn’t care as long as it brought me nostalgia from that day.” He laughed, “Well there’s some of my childhood for you.” After losing the high from his memories, he was brought back to the present, specifically the day in which he was currently living. Something had been bothering him all day and it wasn’t until now, having someone to talk to, that he was willing to face it.


“Something I can't get out of my head is how I performed in the simulation today, I don’t really want to get into the gritty details and all that and I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about yours either, but I’m still dumbstruck as to why I just froze, didn’t put up a fight at all.” He took a couple of deep breaths remembering the subject of which he was discussing. “That doesn’t seem like something a Dauntless would have done and it’s been buggin’ me all day.” He asked his own mind what this could mean while waiting for her response. It responded like it usually did, with doubt.

Maybe your aptitude test was wrong, maybe you were never meant to leave your faction, maybe, you're not cut out to be Dauntless. But Night was used to his mind being like this when it came to speaking about his transferring of factions.

He thought about how this conversation could be affecting Bella, it probably brought back parts of her own fear simulation. He had no clue as to what she could have experienced in it, and while being interested he knew it wouldn’t be right to ask. She could if she wanted to tell him some time but he didn’t expect it. None of the initiates would share their darkest secrets with someone they just met, or at least that’s what he thought about most of them. He knew he wouldn’t, as sharing something like a fear could always be used as a weapon against yourself. Anyways, He should probably change the subject. “Sorry if that made you think about your own sim, I just felt like I had to get that off my chest.” He said, rubbing his neck with his palm. “I guess I’m just excited that I have someone to talk to,” Smiling at Bella. “So, what’s been on your mind lately.”

 

[MWMASkairipa]

~She was powerful, not because she wasn't scared, but because she went on so strongly, despite the fear~
~Atticus~
Bella Quinn | 16 | Transfer Initiate | Amity
The small girl listened to his rambling with a small smile on her soft lips. She had to admit, it was nice to have someone to talk to, though... she wasn't sure how deep this conversation would get. Bella tended to freak out when secrets and sensitive topics came into play. Her home life had been anything but stable, or fun, or any similar word. It had been ugly, and painful and lonely. That last word almost made her laugh, if she was being honest. The small, lonely redhead who was afraid to actually let people in and make friends. It was ridiculous thinking about it. She wanted someone to love her how she was, but she was afraid to let them see her vulnerability. Little did people know, there was a reason behind it. Any time she got emotional in front of her father, it led to pain and suffering, so she shut down and buried herself so deep, she wasn't sure if there was anything left to find.

Coming to Dauntless had been her goal. It had been her goal to get as far away from her father as humanly possible. Well, it had worked, and yet she was still constantly plagued by anxiety and nightmares relating to that awful man. Talking about her fear sim only made it worse. Charlie noticed something; an irregularity. She had only heard stories of Divergent's, but... she had gotten Amity in her testing. Or at least, that's what she was told. The last few days had been all kinds of strange but this... she was pretty sure took the cake.

The small girl blinked when she realized she'd zoned out, and forgotten to answer Night's questions. She... kind of agreed with him. Brighter colors like pastels and orange and red had always been favored by the redhead. They complimented her bright hair nicely, particularly blues and purples. "Umm... I like pastels too, actually. My mother... used to tell me they looked really pretty with my hair," she mumbled softly, absently tugging on her bright ginger hair. She missed her mother dearly. The lullabies and songs she would sing, the guitar she taught Bella how to play... The one thing that Bella missed the most, though, was the nature, the flowers, the willow tree where all the kids used to play. She missed the free spirit kind of feeling when the wind would blow through her hair, almost as if it were speaking to her, giving her heart permission to soar. All of that had ended when her father began to pay special attention to her. So, what was on her mind? Everything that she couldn't tell. "Oh... I-I'm alright... not much going on up here... just... tired, is all..."

//Interactions: Night paralyzed ​

 

[jrink]

As soon as Fable landed the jump to his building with an audible grunt from the exertion, Dante turned away speeding up once more. His feet pounded against the paved roof before he jumped once again. Clearing this next jump was a confidence boost, the next an even bigger one and before long Dante's body had adjusted to the fast rhythm of run-jump-, run-jump. So it was almost hard to stop when Dante reached the last of the buildings that appeared close enough to appear humanely possible to jump.

Dante tried to slow down, he really did. But attempting to slow his momentum sounded easier in retrospect then actually executing it, and as he reached the edge of that last building, Dante found himself sailing off the roof towards an unclear landing-point. There was barely enough time for even a panicked sound to slip from the Erudite-born's lips as his body hurtled through the air for a couple of feet before hitting the previously unseen building a couple of feet below. His feet absorbed most of the impact but the fall hadn't seemed far enough to wreck any damage on them. But that could still be the adrenaline talking.

Letting his body droop to the ground and rolling to his back as a mix of hot relief interwoven with embarrassment heated up Dante's ears, he was surprised to hear an involuntary chuckle spill from his lips, a half-incredulous, half-excited noise. He broke off for a moment, gasping for breath in between the chortles.

"Sorry, that was just so -" he broke off again as the laughter burst free again. "that was just so stupid. Like, next time I have a random plan like that just tell me no, okay. I can't promise I'll listen but still, just say no."

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{ MOOD }
excited

{ LOCATION }
the roof

{ TAGS }
Sanctuaryforall1

Dante Aiken
erudite-born initiate

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)​

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

Randi

Mood: Excited

Location: Testing Center, Fight Scenario

Interactions: Ghost

While most others would have recoiled and attempted to regroup when faced with an angered instructor, specifically Ghost, Randi only continued to meet his gaze. Her jade iris’s holding their focus on his darker whiskey toned orbs which seemed alight with flames of irritation mixed with injured pride. Oh, she was well aware that her prior actions had rubbed him the wrong way and was standing there ready to deal with the consequences. Randi firmly believed in speaking up as well as speaking out but she knew that such beliefs could often lead to trouble and right now it was almost as though she were staring down the throat of a volcano waiting to see if it would erupt or not. She wouldn’t run and hide from this though, she had made her point to Ghost earlier and now she had apologized for any negativity she had caused in doing so, the rest was up to him. Would he lash out? Would he turn the other cheek? She had her doubts. When Ghost’s lips parted and his voice rumbled out from within his throat Randi made sure to listen.

With each word the instructor spoke Randi made sure to take note of the reaction, of his words, and his stance. She noticed all of it and accepted it since there was nothing left for her to do than just that. The ball was in Ghost’s court now and she had no control over how he would choose to react or the words he would speak. Randi had already considered how her interaction with him earlier that day would have made him feel which was the whole reason she came to find him in the first place. Now as he spoke his mind, expressing his frustration towards her, she let him without an ounce of defensive behavior or excuses pulsing from her.

As Ghost’s mood changed Randi shifted slightly and nodded her head when it seemed he had finished his speech. She was glad he accepted her apology but was also glad that he had decided to open up to her even a little bit. It showed he was human and that was acceptable to Randi because she knew better than most how badly humans could fuck up and therefore, she could understand him better because of it. When the dark-haired instructor began to walk away an idea popped into the blonde’s head and she took a step forward. “Would you wanna spar?” She inquired, still tuned in to how tense Ghost seemed.

When the young man turned, his curiosity peeked, Randi took another step forward. “It’s more fun to be out of the ordinary.” She replied with a cheeky smirk. “Besides you look like you could blow off steam and I could certainly use the practice and from what I’ve heard there is nothing better than a private lesson with a master such as yourself.” She added, her smirk growing into a full smile as she gave him a flawless wink though her attitude remained more casual than flirty as she sprinkled him with flattery. “No harm in trying though.” She laughed lightly, her eyes swooping over Ghost’s features again.

As she followed Ghost and they continued to talk about the plans to spar her interest doubled when he mentioned trying something new and then only grew further as they agreed to use only miscellaneous weapons. It would surely be interesting because it wasn’t often an initiate and instructor would fight one another, especially with weapons not used in Dauntless training. She honestly couldn’t wait to see what Ghost would bring to the party and already had a good idea what her weapon of choice would be.

~~~

Around an hour or so later Randi found herself sitting on the chilly countertop of Mav’s testing room. It was interesting to be in a testing room without really being tested but Randi figured she could now mark being in all three simulation rooms off her list of things to do as an initiate if she had one. She had spent the time between splitting up with Ghost and this moment running from the training center to the bar she was an entertainer at, then her uncles’ shop, then met up with Ghost again and spent a good several minutes reading off instructions to the man playing mad scientist. She could almost see the gears turning in his head each time she read off a new part of the recipe. If he wasn’t such a damn good Dauntless Randi was convinced that he could pass for a member of his birth faction easily enough, his brain was impressive enough from what she had seen.

As per usual Randi was in no way able to sit still as they worked on the serum. She didn’t even attempt to restrain herself from swinging her legs as they dangled over the edge of the counter. In her mind it fed her need to move and kept her from doing anything truly annoying such as tapping the counter. She was fully aware that her long, smooth, strong legs were barely covered but at this point, the platinum blonde was used to people seeing her skin and figured it Ghost enjoyed it then good for him, if not, she wasn’t hurting anyone. As Ghost half-joked about the possibility of accidentally creating poison rather than serum Randi smirked. From everything, the instructor had told her this serum sounded like a world of fun. They would be able to fight like this was real combat but without the risk of truly hurting each other. They could feel pain but not to an overwhelming extreme but still enough to create an incentive to not get hit. They would be using weapons they chose and in a terrain neither had prior information on. It overall sounded like a completely thrilling adventure that Randi was more than eager to be apart of. The thrill only grew however when Ghost added the wager of loser buying coffee. “I look forward to drinks on you then.” She teased as she lifted the vial of serum up to clink against his.

~~~

The ruins of a crumbling city wasn’t the most glamourous environment in the world but Randi felt oddly at home as the smell of smoke filled the air. All around her building were crumbling to pieces, some barely standing, others a husk of their former glory, very few still touching the sky. The rubble-filled the streets and instantly Randi began to scan the area knowing that this was the perfect environment for a sneak attack. With the buildings constantly crumbling at the slightest gust of wind and the smoke creating a haze it was all too easy for senses to become confused or muddled. Taking a breath Randi focused on the sounds of the world around her, blocking out the natural audio and listening for things that seemed out of place. She was currently well hidden behind an old billboard with her hand firmly wrapped around the familiar hilt of her bo staff.

Suddenly a slight whoosh on the wind caught Randi’s attention as she jumped out of the way in time to dodge an arrow that lodged itself into the billboard where she had been standing only a heartbeat earlier. “Sneaky bastard.” She smirked as she ran for cover, her eyes scanning the rooftops around her until she noticed the dark figure of Ghost a building or so away. He was quickly making his decent as he used his bow to aid him in a fair amount of tactical parkour from the roof down to ground level. Randi was doing much the same as she did her best to keep an eye on him through cracks in the building. It was clear that for now there was too much in the way for him to get another clear shot on her, a tactical advantage that Randi planned to take advantage of while it was available to her. Making her way towards a crumbled courtyard beside her building Randi ducked between two shattered pillars and slipped her hand into the pockets strapped to her legs. Inside she felt the cold surface of her uncles’ metal throwing cards, a unique ranged weapon she had been playing with since she was a child.

Spotting Ghost stalking along the alleyway just across the street Randi wrapped her fingers around one card and brought it up. With a quick but powerful flick of her wrist and lower arm she sent the metal card across the street and into the wall next to Ghost who had reactions much like her own mere seconds earlier. Taking a heartbeat to look at the unique weapon he had just dodged Ghost gave her a look that told Randi he was about to call her a strange girl again but instead he seemed to refocus on the fight and quick as a bullet he had another arrow lined up with his bow. Randi was ready to meet him as he released the arrow right as she tossed another card his way. With the distance being so close neither of them had much time to react after loosing their weapons. Randi felt a sting as the arrow grazed her side but did her best to keep rushing forward in order to close the distance and try to take the bow and arrow out of play. She noticed crimson weeping into Ghost’s sleeve from where her card must have broken his skin as well.

As the two met in on the sidewalk Randi brought her bo staff down on Ghost only to be met by swift resistance as the older lad used his bow to shield her attack. Reacting quickly Randi brought the butt of her bo staff up and hit Ghost in the side. She heard him grunt and smirked as she whirled around to dodge a kick he aimed for her gut and smacked his leg with her staff. His recovery was quick as his fist rushed forward and was blocked by the staff just before reaching her face. Swiftly Randi planted the staff in the center of his chest and pushed Ghost back so she could try to get out of range for him to attempt another hit to her head.

The moment Ghost recovered his footing the instructor reached for the weapon at his side and drew forth a massive saber with a blade sharp enough to cut through flesh with great ease. Randi had her feet planted firmly on the ground with her staff pointed at him and her jade eyes analyzing his every move now that a new weapon had been brought into play. Light glinted off the blade as Ghost began to swing the saber at Randi. In an instant, sparks ignited between the two metal weapons as they met with great force when Randi used the top of her staff to block Ghost’s blade. The flurry of blows that followed sounded like a rapid melody of metal on metal as the two exchanged blows, dodges, and defensive moves. At one point Ghost got in a good shot and managed to graze Randi’s upper arm with the blade. This almost instantly resulted in Ghost taking the butt of the bo staff to the head as Randi swung it around from behind her with great force.

As the battle continued Randi’s smile never fell from her lips. It brought her great joy knowing that Ghost was unaware of what she could really do with this staff. As the fight wore on, however, she decided it was finally time to show him. Jamming her staff into the ground as she blocked a blow aimed at her legs Randi used that moment to leap backward. With some distance now between them, the young platinum blonde ran her fingers along her staff and as she did so she activated the thermal sensors. In a heartbeat both ends of her bo staff roared to life with dancing flames that lit up the darkening alleyway and radiated an intense wave of heat. With unimaginable grace, Randi twirled the staff around her making the light of the flames dance like a halo of hellfire.

Aviator

code by Stardust Galaxy


OOC: Fable and Thorn's posts will be up this evening!

 

[Aviator]

Ghost // Male // Age 18 // Training Instructor // Erudite to Dauntless
​

Ash was falling from the sky. Or, at least that’s what it looked like until Ghost squinted at the small stream of black particles and realized that it was just the wind pushing them off nearby rooftops so that they swirled and spun before lazily floating to the ground. Ghost turned a full three-sixty degrees, slowly intaking his surroundings. His breath caught at the extent of the widespread, indiscriminate picture of destruction around him. It looked like a cityscape torn straight from the pages of a science-fiction novel, all charred ruins steeped in ash and despair. The skyline was littered with the jagged remnants of buildings, metal spikes clawing at the sky like the prongs of a broken crown. The air was charged with a distinct, smoky scent, like that in the wake of a lightning strike. As the breeze lapsed into stillness, ash settled onto the ground, where it lay in an inch-thick burial shroud across the dead city.
Not even the smallest sign of life split the hair-raising silence. Ghost’s ears strained to pick up a bird call, a distant car horn, anything, but all was nothing. He shook his head in disorientation, mind spinning as it tried to add up the details around him. The land was clearly uninhabited, but no synthetic structures had yet been claimed by ivy. That, combined with the thick plumes of smoke still furling in the air proclaimed that whatever had rendered this city a post-apocalyptic nightmare had occurred recently. Yet the black snow at Ghost’s feet lay in an unblemished sheet. No one had walked this way ever since. And yet, the dusting of ash wasn’t deep enough to conceal anything of considerable size beneath it… Ghost shivered. Somehow, it felt even more eerie that such a thorough scene of desolation would not be accompanied by dead bodies, or any other macabre vestiges of the life that had once been. Above it all, a sun hanging low in the sky watched like a lone, bloody eye. A line of poetry cut through Ghost's mind on a smoky breath: Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, if mankind perished utterly.
The scariest part was how real it all looked. Amid his quiet speculations as to the source of the destruction, he turned in place again, trying to pick out details that would give away the landscape as a simulation. Did ash really blow in such fat, cottony clumps, or was that just his imagination telling him what he wanted to see? Was that evening sun just a shade too red? A feeling of unease settled in the pit of Ghost’s stomach. He twirled an anxious finger through his hair and fought off the impulse to pace. What if he one day underwent a serum that he never realized was only a serum? Was it possible that current technology could produce such a mind-boggling effect? If so, how could he know with certainty that any of his experiences were real and true, rather than just unlived dreams? Was there such a thing as truth in an environment that had been manufactured from a tiny vial?
It’s all just a game, Ghost reminded himself, taking a breath. And games exist to be played. As inclined to delve into his thoughts as he was, he had come here for a purpose. Philosophy could wait until after he had won. Still, he couldn’t shake the unearthly premonition that, restored to its former glory, the ruined city around him would bear a striking resemblance to Chicago. The thought loomed up like a tidal wave, threatening to crash down and swallow him whole, until Ghost needed some sort of proof. That this wasn’t real, that this wasn’t a future that would befall his home imminently, or ever. Letting instinct drive him, he reached behind himself and withdrew an arrow from the quiver that appeared just over his left shoulder. The bow and arrows had been generously loaned to him by Randi, who had ostensibly “borrowed” them from her uncle’s weaponry shop, because those were never in short supply in Dauntless. Acting on a whim, Ghost wielded the arrow like a long knife, and drew its razor tip in a slash across the flesh of his palm. He had modified the simulation’s program to produce pain in a reduced ratio, only thirty percent of what an actual wound would have felt like.
Despite this knowledge, Ghost felt confounded on some deep level when the cut registered as little more than a tickle, yet crimson bubbled to the surface all the same. With a feeling of surreality, he flicked a few droplets of blood aside and returned the arrow to its quiver. Randi was probably far ahead in her exploration of the terrain, and Ghost didn’t want to be left at a disadvantage. Ash softly crunched beneath his combat boots as he started toward a lifeless heap of cramped, densely-packed buildings that looked as though they might have once been tenements for the city’s working class, but Ghost couldn’t be sure. Funny thing, wealth. It was hard to distinguish rich from poor when half of everything seemed a breath away from collapsing in on itself. He bounced up a short set of stairs, dodging the crumbling bits that looked prone to twisting the ankle of the unwary, and tried the front door on the closest house—locked. How very inconsiderate in a post-apocalyptic world, when its owners wouldn’t be coming back to claim anything anytime soon.
But a locked door had never kept Ghost out. He reached into one of many deep pockets lining his trench coat and produced two lockpicks that caught the light of the fiery sun. Ghost pressed them close to his chest, smothering any telltale glints. Best not to give away his position to Randi before he was good and ready. With nimble, precise movements, he crouched and set to disabling the lock before him. Once a thief, always a thief. His lockpicks were more momentos than anything now, not seeing a fraction of the use they once had. But after carrying them every day for over three years straight, especially when breaking into an abandoned warehouse had saved him from being chased down by a gang or picked up by the police more than once, it wasn’t a habit that would go away easily, if ever. A few clever strokes and a handful of seconds later, the lock gave with a satisfying click. Ghost suppressed a smile, but barely. It was good to see that he still had his touch.
The interior of the house was a dark clutter of cobwebs, dust motes, and elongated shadows. Vermillion sunbeams slanted in through the fractured remains of a window, providing just enough illumination by which to see. In his early days as a street urchin, the triumph of a successful break-in used to infuse him with such an intoxicating sense of power that, despite what a property deed may claim, a home and all its contents were subject to Ghost’s discretion first and foremost. The feeling had eventually mellowed out into something more practical and matter-of-fact as time passed, but Ghost had always taken pride in being one of Baneberry’s leading go-to’s for “window” jobs. If I can’t filch it, then no one can, he would always tell prospective employers asking if he was up for a job. But now, in stark contrast to the rush of blood Ghost used to feel upon seducing a lock into giving up her secrets, something about this burglary felt horribly wrong. Like trespassing in a tomb and pillaging the valuables with which a corpse had been buried. As ridiculous as it seemed, Ghost’s thievery wasn’t without a moral code, albeit a warped one.
He crept through the house on silent feet. The artificial city appeared to extend for miles, so it was highly unlikely that Randi was currently within earshot, but he did it out of habit more than anything. Stomping through a crib that wasn’t his, even if its residents weren’t home, was a gesture of unconscionable disrespect. Snorting and peeling a spider web from his face, Ghost descended a flight of stairs and flicked a light on in what appeared to be a basement. Towering rows of shelves dominated one wall. Ghost perused their contents, aware that, with a sizable saber strapped to his hip and a bow and quiver slung across his back, he was already burdened with several pounds of equipment. Best not to take anything that would contribute significantly to that load. A spool of transparent wire caught his eye. An idea, hovering and shimmering like a soap bubble, formed in his mind. Ghost reached out with greedy hands.

* * *​

He used his time wisely and efficiently, as was his wont. Twenty productive minutes later, the maze of alleys threading through the tenements was strung up with tripwire. He’d chosen seemingly random streets to lay his traps, but there was a method to his madness. After all, it wouldn’t do to get tripped up by his own wire. That finished, Ghost, having never shot a recurve bow before, had done some experimenting. Turns out, contrary to Randi’s assurances that a sharpshooter such as Ghost would have a natural affinity for a bow, skill with a firearm does not easily translate to skill with a bow and arrows. His first few shots had gone so awry that he was genuinely glad there were no inhabitants of the city, simulated or not, to suffer the consequences. Had he not been wearing a coat of heavy-duty cotton, he would have shredded the skin on the inside of his right forearm when the bowstring had once snapped against him.
His starting supply of a dozen arrows had dwindled to six as he expended half of them into a pile of smoking debris, just trying to get a feel for the recurve bow. It had none of the pulleys of a compound bow, and Ghost had never been particularly strong, so drawing the bowstring all the way back was no easy feat. Already he could feel callouses blooming on his fingertips where the string had sliced into them. After six practice shots, he’d burned through half of his quiver, but Ghost didn’t feel quite as incompetent now that he was at least able to graze the edges of the target by the end of his session. He’d rather have six half-decent shots than twelve with no shot at all.
As Ghost stood hidden in the shadows of a third-story balcony, with his bow trained on an unsuspecting Randi some thirty yards away, it seemed like a good choice. If he couldn’t get the job done in six shots, he didn’t deserve any further chances. She was crouched atop a billboard almost level with him in height, her back turned to him; she’d clearly gotten the same idea as him, wanting to scan the terrain from a vantage point. Too bad that Ghost had already tracked her down by her footprints in the ash by the time it had occurred to her. From what he’d seen, there was nothing else alive to make those footprints, so they clearly had to have belonged to Randi, which they did indeed.
Ghost’s shoulder trembled. He’d been posing with the bow drawn for too long. Time to take the shot. He wasn’t above shooting an opponent while her back was turned, especially when there was a high likelihood that he would miss anyway. In hindsight of cutting his palm open to test the effects of the simulation, he’d worried that he would struggle to close his hand around the bow afterward, but that wasn’t a problem. During the time it had taken him to rig the alleyways with tripwire, the wound on his palm had healed over until an innocuous pink blush was all that remained. Not only were wounds less painful in this pretend world, but apparently the healing process was accelerated, too. If Ghost was smart about it, he could twist this fact to his advantage; maybe he knew something that Randi didn’t.
He took a breath, focusing on his impending shot. And in that lull between inhale and exhale, between one heartbeat and the next, just as he would if he were shooting a gun, Ghost let the arrow fly. He was appalled by how startlingly close it came to piercing Randi. Ghost had given that shot his all, but after the disastrous results of his first usage of the bow, he hadn’t expected it to pay off. But he had waited just a moment too long, and Randi was already in the process of swiveling around as the arrow came zipping toward her. She caught a peripheral glance just as it came within a split second of impaling her torso and threw herself out of the way, pressing up close against the billboard to keep from falling. The arrow lodged in the space where she’d just been, quivering with rage at such a near miss. Ghost was already loading his next shot as Randi spotted his location and shimmied down from the billboard.
Encouraged by the accuracy of his last shot, Ghost didn’t back down from the prospect of a moving target. He fired, but in his rush to keep pace with Randi’s running form, the shot went high and wide. Ghost drew another arrow. Randi would be trying to take cover. If he were in her position, where would he hide behind? Ghost eyed a van almost directly below him and some twenty yards away from Randi, who was angled in a straight path for it. She was a fast runner and was quickly eating up the distance. He only had a second or two. Adjusting for gravity, he aimed at a space between Randi’s current location and that of the van. His shoulder burned from repeated draws, but Ghost ignored it as he loosed a third arrow at her. He was rewarded with a sharp jerk from Randi as the arrow skittered across her ribs before flipping end over end in a wildly different direction. She hit the ground in a baseball-style slide and dove behind the van—which was too tall for Ghost to shoot over—until she was hidden from view. He might have had the high ground, but he had no angle. They were at an impasse. His blood singing at the thrill of the hunt, he lowered his bow and peered over the side of the balcony, hands clenching around the wrought-iron railing, planning his next move.
He didn’t see the scrap of metal whistling toward him from below until it was almost too late. In a blur of motion, Randi had appeared around the side of the van and whipped some kind of throwing projectile at him, hurtling straight for his face. Ghost reflexively threw up an arm. Despite the reduced pain, he was very aware of metal slicing through the fabric of his coat and into his skin. He winced, withdrawing the arm into his chest, infuriated at his own carelessness. Fine, then. If you want me to make the first move, I will. There was no point in maintaining the high ground if it offered no cover and Randi was obscured from view, anyway. Ghost swung one leg over the balcony’s railing, then the other. He was no stranger to scaling buildings; more often than not, he would target an upper-story entrance as the site of a break-in. The various craters carved into the side of the dilapidated building made finding hand- and footholds that much easier, and after narrowly spinning away from another shuriken, Ghost leapt to the ground, stumbling slightly beneath the weight of all his weapons.
The instant his feet touched the ground, Randi burst out from behind the van, shuriken discarded in favor of a long metal staff. She was headed straight for him, staff held aloft in threat. Ghost had three arrows left, and he twirled one before nocking it. A point-blank shot. He couldn’t miss. He glanced down the shaft of the arrow, lining its point up with Randi’s center of mass, his face pressed so close to the bow that he felt a featherlight pressure as the string brushed across his eyelashes. But Randi had other ideas. With lightning reflexes, she gave an expert whirl of her staff, and the metal blurred into a perfect silvery circle as she batted the arrow aside, like a fly swatted away by a human hand. She kept sprinting for Ghost, not breaking stride, and for a precious half second, he stood dumbfounded, mind spinning and eyes disbelieving at her ridiculous show of prowess. A blur of motion later and Randi was suddenly inside his guard, too close for Ghost to draw his sword with any effectiveness. He was forced to block her oncoming strike with his bow, holding it horizontally so that it formed a perpendicular angle to her staff. There was a spray of splinters as the bow shattered upon impact. Its two broken halves slipped through his fingers and smacked lamely against the ground.
Before he had time to recover, the other end of the staff flipped up to connect with his side, driving the breath from his lungs. Pain reduction or not, a bright spark of agony jumped from the site of the blow and blazed down his side. Ghost forced himself to ignore it and react. He aimed a kick at Randi’s middle, hoping to stall for time in order to back up and draw his saber. But she turned the kick aside with another fluid stroke of her staff, and Ghost heard the crack! of bone, loud as a snapping branch, before he felt it. For the moment, he was too hyped up on adrenaline to feel anything other than shock, and he dearly hoped it was true that whatever injuries he and Randi incurred in the simulation would not carry over into the real world.
Ghost was desperate now. Trying to keep himself from dissolving entirely into panic mode, he rammed a fist at her face. Hand-to-hand combat was decidedly not his thing, but he was running low on options and hoping to take Randi by surprise. He didn’t. She raised her staff to absorb the blow, and pain surged through Ghost’s knuckles as they met with pure steel. For an instant, he was stunned, spine going rigid and eyes rolling back. Randi took advantage of the moment and whacked him square in the chest with her staff. Without having landed a single hit on Randi throughout the entirety of their exchange, Ghost tumbled backward in a heap of failure, kicking up a cloud of ash as he fell to the ground.
Moving with a mixture of grace and strength that reminded him of a lioness, Randi reared up over him, clearly ready to deal a killing blow. Ghost panted. There was a taste like acid and rust in his mouth. The edges of his vision flickered with dark flakes like… ash. Like the layer of ash on the ground all around him right now, not deep enough to impede his and Randi’s footwork while fighting, but maybe just deep enough. The idea clicked into place like the tumblers in a lock. Randi raised her staff. Ghost’s fingers burrowed into the ash on the ground, stretching to capture as much of it as possible, and he flung a fistful at Randi. A sooty snowball exploded in her face, and a black shower billowed outward in all directions, engulfing her. Randi coughed and hacked and gagged in an awful series of dry sputters like those of a dying engine. As she did, Ghost scuttled backward on elbows and feet, forcing down a cry of pain as he stood and eased some weight onto his broken leg. Here and now, with a litany of wounds vying for his attention, he was hopelessly outmatched. But that could change, eventually. It was time to stall.
Ghost flung aside his quiver. Without his bow, it was just dead weight, but he did stash one arrow into a pocket of his coat to be used as a melee weapon, if necessary. Then he bit down on the inside of his cheeks as he mentally prepared himself to run, and he shot between two buildings and into the labyrinth of alleys. The experience was excruciating. He was fully aware that, if not for the simulation’s reduced pain, he would have blacked out by now. But the rules of this world were different from those of his own, and so Ghost pushed them to their limits, propelling himself faster and faster down the twisting network of alleys, leaping over each tripwire he encountered, skidding on slick ash and almost falling once or twice. He struggled to hear anything beyond the thundering of his own heart, but from somewhere behind him came an exclamation of surprise a moment before a body thudded against cobblestone. Randi had found the first of many tripwires, it seemed. Completely translucent, they were almost impossible to spot while running. Ghost only knew when to be on the lookout for one due to the pattern he had followed while laying them, albeit a very discreet one: Every alley with a trash can lid on the ground was rigged.
Something dribbled from between his lips. Ghost went to inspect, and his fingers came away dark. It was only a matter of time until Randi caught up with him; she would have no trouble finding him due to the tracks his running feet left in the ash. But time was exactly what he needed in this instance. Ghost thought back to his discovery of the self-inflicted wound on his palm that had healed over a matter of minutes. The alleys seemed to extend infinitely, and he ran and ran for so long that a stitch pulled at his side. Ghost was intimately reminded of all the reasons why he hated running, even on two unbroken legs. And yet, the longer he ran, the less his broken leg hurt. Perhaps it was just Ghost adapting to the pain, but perhaps the pain really was fading away, the break slowly knitting itself back together.
Finally, just when he felt on the verge of a heart attack, he cleared one final tripwire, and the alleyways drew to a decisive close, opening up onto a wide boulevard. Ghost darted across the too-still road, his skin flashing hot and cold as the twilight air chilled his sweat. On the other side was a parking lot, half-filled with cars standing like silent sentries and keeping vigil over a godless world. Ghost made for it, thinking hard and fast. Most Dauntless could run swifter and for longer than him, so he doubted Randi was far behind. He didn’t have much time. Racing behind a Dodge, he shucked off his boots, placing them where the toes would just barely peek out from the perspective of one entering the lot. Then he did a half-assed job of covering up the tracks his feet had left in the ash, as if he’d been in a hurry. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, really. In just his socks, Ghost scrambled toward an adjacent car, a Kia, this time doing a more thorough job of smoothing over the ash. Once he was squatting behind the Kia, he drew his saber from the sheath at his hip and waited.
He didn’t have to wait for long. Footsteps crunched atop ash, announcing Randi’s arrival. Ghost bunched his legs beneath him in preparation, exhaling a sigh of relief. His broken leg felt almost as good as new, which he’d been banking on in order for his plan to succeed. His pulse hammered away, ticking off the seconds and footfalls as Randi made her way through the lot. She made no attempt to disguise her presence; in fact, she did quite the opposite, goading and taunting Ghost to come out and play. Oh, believe me, I will, he thought in response. And you won’t like how I play. Suddenly, Randi’s mockery cut off, presumably as she discovered Ghost’s hiding place and planned to sneak up on him. A shadow fell across the ash, blacker on black, and Brandish Rose pounced on the Dodge, her staff slashing at the empty air above Ghost’s boots. It was a shame that the back of her blond head was turned toward him; he would have savored the astonished expression that must have taken up residence on her face.
Ghost lurched into motion, erupting from behind the Kia, his saber thrust out and prepared to skewer Randi. She must have either heard him coming or sensed the trap, because she turned just as he struck, but the damage had been done. The wicked curve of Ghost’s blade bit into her stomach, and in the span of a few heartbeats, as he dislodged his sword with a grisly sound of suction, her shirt was already saturating with red. “I’m so glad you talked me into this,” Ghost said with uncharacteristic cheer, thinking back to her taunts. Almost completely healed minus a few phantom pains, he patiently leaned on his sword and waited for Randi to raise her staff and settle into a fighting stance. Ghost mimicked her, bending his knees, lowering his center of gravity, and angling himself to the side, as to present less of a target to Randi.
It was only his second time wielding this particular saber. Or any sword, actually. He distantly recalled a sparring session that he and Caspian had had a few weeks before the start of initiation, during which Ghost had reluctantly wielded the left-handed saber against Caspian’s falchion, both blades bandaged as to keep from cutting too deeply. Although Ghost could tell that his roommate was going easy on him, Caspian had said, You have good swordsman's instincts. Swordplay is seventy percent footwork, and you seem to be pretty capable, in that area. Right before he’d rapped Ghost over the head with the flat of his falchion, of course. Ghost wasn’t sure if Caspian had been speaking truthfully, but Ghost knew that his experience with a sword was far too limited to maintain any hope of beating Randi in a fair fight. He was no warrior. But he was Ferris Jacobi: dancer, thief, strategist, former prince of Erudite, and the eventual conqueror who would bring the faction system to its knees. When the odds were against him—as they had been for most of his life—he shamelessly cheated his way to victory. Just as he would do here and now.
To Randi’s credit, she powered through the mess of torn flesh that was her stomach. With a fearsome battle cry, she charged Ghost. Sparks flew as he raised his sword and parried instinctively. It wasn’t a particularly elegant parry, probably, the saber feeling too heavy and cumbersome in his grasp, but it did the job and knocked the staff aside. Ghost riposted, trying to keep the movement of his arm to a minimum and manipulating the blade mostly with his wrist and fingers, as he had seen more skilled Dauntless swordsmen do. That way, without a whole lot of start-up, his strikes came faster, his arm tired slower, and he didn’t stagger so much from the force of a swing if he were to miss. Randi reeled away from Ghost’s counterattack, but only barely. Already her forehead shone with sweat, and it was evident her wound had rendered her movements clumsy.
And yet, the cutting look in her sea-glass eyes said something completely different. She yowled again, whirling her staff in a metallic flurry, and Ghost danced away. He was well rested, and none of her blows connected, but the threat was real, forcing him to steadily creep away. He’d rather rely on his thief’s agility to manually dodge than risk parrying with a sword he knew how to use on only an entry level. From time to time, he attempted a strike, but mostly he was just waiting for Randi to tire herself out past the point of no return. The simulation was designed to heal wounds over time, but Randi was bleeding out far too fast and pushing herself far too hard for it to do her much good. What with Randi’s new handicap, she and Ghost seemed relatively evenly matched. For the moment, at least. They exchanged a few more thrusts, Ghost backing away to keep her at bay with the longer range of his saber, Randi continually pressing forward. Finally, Ghost grew bored of their dance, reached inside his coat with his free hand, and whipped out the sole arrow he had kept after throwing away the quiver. Wielding it as a melee weapon, he lunged forward and buried it in Randi’s left shoulder.
Randi screamed, half in pain, half in determination. She cleaved in a horizontal arc with her staff, forcing Ghost to retreat yet again. Only, he wasn’t watching where he was going, and he bumped up against something solid. The hood of a car had caught him behind the knees. He teetered, trying to regain his footing. It wasn’t a tripwire, but it had been pretty damn close to one in function. Ghost’s struggle lasted for only a second, but it was the opening Randi needed. She used her staff to bat aside his blade and launched herself at him. It was a desperation move, but it worked. Unlike most Dauntless boys, Ghost was willowy and lithe, not strong and stocky, and as the sum of her weight careened into him, he toppled backward. The two of them crashed to the ashy ground in a deadly embrace, Randi on top. Caught off guard, Ghost let his saber slip through his fingers, and his heart sank as he heard it clatter out of reach.
Warm and slippery liquid seeped into Ghost’s clothes as Randi’s bloodied form pressed up against him. Her face contorted in a snarl as she hefted her staff with both hands, and holding it sideways, levered it across his throat and pushed down, hard. In the space of a breath, Ghost’s world split into choppy, broken frames. His lungs and chest seared with a need that he wasn’t getting. He feebly kicked and thrashed against Randi, throwing his hands up against the staff to relieve some of the pressure from his throat, but gravity was on her side. All she had to do was lean her weight against her staff, which in turn severed the breath from Ghost’s body, and he was hopelessly out of tricks. With her face in such close proximity to his, and her eyes so fierce, he couldn’t help thinking that it was like staring into the sun. Randi looked so powerful, like she could tear the world apart with her hands if she wanted to. Ghost wanted to be powerful like that. Suddenly ash was falling from the sky. Or rising up from the ground. Ghost wasn’t sure which, only that it was filling his vision, swimming, swarming, multiplying, until everything was black, and—
He jolted up, almost knocking heads with Randi as he gasped for breath. Although her staff was gone from his throat—she had decided to show mercy after Ghost clearly lost the fight—Randi still straddled his abdomen, acting as a weight his laboring respiratory system had to fight against. Everything was swaying and roiling with agony. Finally, when Ghost was no longer seeing double, he focused on Randi’s face hovering just above his own. Her eyes hung at half mast, presumably from blood loss, and a self-satisfied smirk was perched on her lips. Something hot twisted inside of Ghost’s stomach. She was gazing at him so intently that he almost felt compelled to look away, which was impractical when her elbows framed his face to either side. “Um, could you get off of me, please?” His voice came out as a frail whisper. Her curvy hips felt uncomfortably warm where they contacted his own narrower ones, and Ghost doubted that it was just from the blood leaking out of her.
Randi complied with some difficulty, groaning in pain as she rolled off him. She looked pale, and only through sheer effort of will was she able to clamber to her feet. She extended a hand to him. Ghost hesitated before accepting, not because of injured pride at having been defeated, but because he seriously doubted Randi was in any condition to be pulling him upright. Not wanting to appear ungracious, he took her hand mostly for show, and carefully stood on his own power. Their contest had been close, but that offered little consolation for Ghost’s loss. He internally facepalmed himself, unable to believe that he had fallen for Randi’s attempt to back him against a car and trip him up. Frustration and self-loathing burned through him. “Using my own tricks against me, I see,” he observed, his voice still a low rasp, his face its usual solemn deadpan whenever he sort of joked. “I take it you really liked my tripwires?” He had to admit, it’d been good thinking on her part. Intellectually speaking, Randi was a good cut above the average Dauntless initiate. Ghost remembered telling her that she would have done well in Erudite, and he stood by those words.
His face darkened as he considered something else. Unlike in virtual reality games, there was no menu panel, no logout button, almost nothing to distinguish this simulation from reality. And that implied there was only one way out. “While I appreciate not being strangled to death—that seems like a horrible way to go—the simulation won’t end until one of us dies, I think.” If Randi hadn’t succumbed to her wound yet, Ghost doubted she would at this point, since several minutes had elapsed from when it’d been inflicted. The simulation had been healing her all that time, and now she no longer had to deal with the strain of fighting.
Either way, Ghost didn’t plan on waiting around for Randi to possibly “die.” He knew he wasn’t very good at making friends, but that didn’t seem like a very friendly gesture. I did lose the duel, after all, he reminded himself. The burden of getting us out of here falls on me. Ghost scanned the ground, walking in a wide circle, the black ash shifting like sand under his shoeless feet. He had to squint; the sun had finally slipped below the horizon, and night was coming on swiftly. Eventually, he found what he was looking for: the arrow that he had jabbed into Randi’s shoulder. At some point during their final skirmish, it had fallen out. Ghost picked it up. Before he could lose his nerve, he took a breath and plunged it into his own heart, and the world went dark and cold.

* * *​

The Pit was thronged with people, as usual. Ghost rarely enjoyed the crowds and cheap thrills it offered, but he could make an exception for Randi. There was something so liberating about hanging out with someone who had no concept of shame. All along their way to the coffee shop, she hadn’t just tolerated Ghost’s various musings and theories about the post-apocalyptic, ashen city in which they’d fought, but she had seemed genuinely interested and frequently contributed to the conversation. Ghost liked to test people that way, by blurting out an unconventional thought and seeing if it was immediately dismissed or not, as many Dauntless did with abstract concepts. It was a good method to determine if someone was worth his time or not before he made the mistake of investing too much in them.
At the coffee shop, Randi claimed a round wooden table for two by a window while Ghost went off to purchase both of their drinks, as promised. A simple black espresso for himself, and for Randi some nauseatingly sweet concoction that resembled a mound of sugar with a little coffee mixed in, topped off with whipped cream. Ghost scowled at her drink as he accepted it from the barista and started back toward their table. All things considered, Randi was pretty cool, but her taste in coffee needed a lot of work. Really, this was something a five-year-old would order—Ghost had glanced up at the table for a split second and immediately did a double take, freezing in place. Someone was sitting in the chair across from Randi that he had intended for himself. Was that? No. It couldn’t be. He had to get over his paranoid obsessions about Leah and her diabolical family. Either that, or the simulation was messing with his head, skewing his reality, because the most influential Erudite family popping up in the Dauntless compound all of a sudden was so absurd—
Ghost’s heart stilled. He almost dropped the coffees as Alex Young turned and graced him with a million-dollar smile.

 

[xayah.]

ALEX YOUNG

erudite-born | 16 | erudite prodigy​

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Alex Young smoothed down his white button up with sleeves folded up to just above the elbows for the thirty-seventh time that morning. The boy had been up since 6 that morning making sure nothing was out of place, not even a single hair. It was not until the time had almost reached eight o'clock that he was satisfied with his appearance. Dressed in a white shirt, royal blue slacks, and brown leather dress shoes, Alex could accurately be described as the Erudite faction personified. Combined with his otherworldly intellect, he wasn't called the Erudite poster child for nothing. Initiation had been nothing but child's play for him, and each day was more monotonous than challenging due to the easiness of the tests that were supposed to weed out the mentally unfit. As a result, it was well-known throughout initiation and the faction that Alex would inherit his father's position as leader due to sheer merit, not nepotism. Finally satisfied with his appearance, the young prodigy made his way down the manor stairs and to the front gates where his mother sent him off with a small plain, silver ring.
Today was a so-called free day in Erudite for initiates. In truth, it was more of an all-day study period for them in preparation for another test. On these rare days, Alex went off to errands his father was unable to attend to. Some days it was a mere status report on the progress in labs. Other days meant traveling quite a distance to communicate with various factions on his father's behalf. Today was one such day. Sitting upright in the family car driven by a chauffeur, Alex glanced at the ring in the palm of his hand and secured it on his right index finger in hopes of safe transport. Traveling to Dauntless was always a dangerous trek. He could always pass by the factionless who lingered near the borders of every faction, but it was always the Dauntless themselves who were unhinged. Rubbing his neck, Alex grimaced at the memory of his most recent visit on Visiting Day. That frail bastard was always the most unpleasant part of the trip, especially since he'd established himself as a leader through some fraud and deception, and now he'd have to communicate with him as a representative of his father. With a quiet tsk, the teen closed his eyes in quiet contemplation for the rest of the ride to Dauntless headquarters.
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The subtle forward braking movement of the car before rocking backwards notified Alex of his arrival. He opened his eyes slowly before glancing around at the desolate wasteland full of tall buildings and skyscrapers around him, just perfect for jumping from trains onto broken concrete. He exited the ride with all the grace of a prince charming and looked back at the driver. "Return in an hour or so. I prefer not to stay in this hellhole for long." With that, the driver, seemingly in agreement with his young master about the state of Dauntless, sped off at a speed he dare not have a passenger in. Looking at the street he landed in, Alex's mind recalled a map of Dauntless' jurisdiction and made his way to the inconspicuous building that served as Dauntless HQ.
He headed towards the Pit, remembering the footsteps he took last time he was here, and found it packed to the brim. Calm and collected, he strided past wild, rambunctious crowds and paid their sour expressions at an intruder no mind. He was the one looking down on them, not the other way around. Scouring the crowd with his deep brown, almost black, eyes, Alex seemed to have arrived just in time to find the man of the hour breaking off from his blonde haired partner to wait in line and order drinks. His lips turned up slightly as he made his way over to Randi. Why not mess with the bastard a little bit?
At the small table for two, Alex placed a single hand on the empty chair reserved for Ghost and slightly leaned forward on it towards Randi. "Would you mind if I kept you company for a little bit?" His voice was tinged with a honey-like tone used to attract funding for research from reluctant investors that was near impossible to resist. The blonde across from him seemed tempted to resist but eventually relented to his request and allowed him to take a seat on the swivel chair. The duo made small talk, something that Alex was far more proficient in than his sister, and the conversation flowed naturally and unexpectedly well. It was almost riveting. Almost. After a few minutes, the slight flicker of Randi's eyes from him to something behind him made Alex slowly burst into a grin people would kill for. The Erudite boy turned to face an almost frozen Ghost with just lightly veiled malicious intent behind his smile.
"Ah, is this the person that the seat was reserved for? Apologies... what should I call you?" With all the sincerity of a politician, Alex remained seated, not even outstretching his hand towards Ghost. It was satisfying to watch his face contort into a strained smile as Ghost lifted his hand out to shake Alex's first. Ghost might've been two years his senior, but that didn't dissuade Alex's disrespectfulness. He hadn't felt any respect or admiration for him the minute they met which only intensified into disdain when he humiliated his sister. Only after Ghost outstretched his hand first did Alex follow suit. The tightness with which the two grabbed each others hands resulted in a shake that 'accidentally' tipped over a cup of coffee and caused it to splash on Alex's abdomen, leaving a sizeable stain. The temperature was almost scalding, but thanks to years of composure training, only the slightest and briefest flinch passed on his face. "Is there any area in the compound I can clean up in? Maybe Ghost could show me?" The venom with which Alex said Ferris' codename was similar, if not the same, to Leah's, something that connected the two across factions as twins. Watching Ghost excuse himself to take Alex to clean up in private, Alex turned towards Randi once again and nodded like a prince. "Until next time, Randi. Apologies for the interruption." With that, the two boys walked out of the Pit with an unnerving atmosphere to outsiders that was the result of their combined hostility towards the other. The moment they were safely out of earshot, Alex spoke up with such disgust and hatred in his voice that it would've been enough to make someone disappear in his presence. "Since there's no longer a need for a facade, and I'd like to escape this miserable building you're rotting in as soon as possible, let's get the point, shall we?"

 

[Nerdy.]

Charlotte "Charlie" Stark || 20 || Medic || Dauntlessborn

The gentle medic opened her mouth in surprise, a tiny gasp exiting her throat as a warm leather jacket was suddenly wrapped around her petite shoulders. A blush crept up her cheek and her head looked up at Jaxom quickly, deep chocolate brown eyes staring at the angled, handsome face of the initiate beside her, then her head snapped down, pretending to focus on her feet as she shrugged her shoulders, sinking deeper into the warmth of this leather jacket. It was warm, and smelled strongly of Jaxom's warm body, a slight sensual cologne and just the slight memory of alcohol or coffee, some strong drink. Although she hadn't expected or asked for his jacket, she did not refuse it, she had been very cold, and she was now warming up as they walked. In fact, it felt rather nice and she was very thankful for the gesture that Jaxom had done, she doubted it was done out of simple kindness, not because she thought Jaxom could not have kindness, but because kindness was generally something that an Amity born, or someone like herself who had an aptitude for Amity, naturally did. Yet it was not like others could not do it, they generally did kindness with differing mentalitys and morals, such as Abnegation were kind but it was a selfless kindness, they were almost unkind to themselves, and to their children and families, yet kind to those unfortunate like the factionless, it was somewhat scary, and not at all what Charlie felt from herself. Dauntless were kind if it meant they looked good, could use their strength, or it worked out better for them, of course you had random acts of kindness when there were couples and people like Aubrey who had been brought up with two Amity family members, yet even then Aubrey mostly showed kindness from a bravery, or selfish, standpoint. Erudite would likely only be kind if it made logical and reasonable sense to do so, if it were illogical or brought more discomfort for the person giving kindness, it was unlikely to happen. Is this what Ghost is like? Will he only show me kindness when it benefits him, or the society that he is thinking about? Am I only a tool to be used? Or a fun item to have for the moment? Charlie tried to ignore her thoughts about Ghost, in all honesty she wasn't in the mood to fester on the thoughts of him right now. She had in fact gone a bit so far into overthinking about a simple act of kindness, that she looked back at Jaxom, she had heard him, and it was interesting, enlightening. Candor sounded so strange for her, not bad, but strange, Dauntless was such an interesting place. Charlie herself had lived a life that was a lie, thinking Henry was her father until she was 13 when she found out it was Jeremy. Then having to hide Jeremy's abuse for years and years, from Aubrey and all her friends, minus Caspian and Alice, and now Ghost. She lied to keep peace, but was that good? Jaxom's words got her thinking and she mulled that thought in her head. Was she, in fact, being unkind to Aubrey by hiding this? Yet... If Jeremy were to start abusing Aubrey... The thought was too disgusting and horrible to think about, she had spent her life being beaten to a pulp, and being looked at as nothing but a mistake, a pretty, weak, nice to touch and hold, mistake. Aubrey was perfect, in Dauntless terms, and Charlie didn't want to ruin her life by telling this one simple truth. No.. BUt... No...

Jaxom had been kind though, and perhaps in Candor kindness was just honesty. He saw she was cold and he gave her his jacket because - supposedly - he was not cold. She could accept that, even envy that, it was a nice sentiment and she definitely appreciated being warm. They continued walking together, medic and initiate, one small, one tall. One might have guessed that the ages and roles had been reversed if it were to be based on looks alone.
Jaxom seemed surprised by Charlie's question on family, and she worried that he might not be up to sharing it, however, she needn't have worried. For Jaxom exploded into an expressive and beautiful display of love for his family that he had left behind. Speaking of his parents and two siblings, Charlie couldn't help but smile widely, watching his face and hands as he spoke, it was frankly adorable, for one so tall, and covered in tattoos, and buff as hell, it was a sight to see him so enthralled at talking about his family. They sounded lovely. It did sound hard to be in Candor, with the honesty that gets thrown about, but it also sounded so good to live in a place that you could trust people because you knew they told the truth, whether it be good or bad. "Your family sounds lovely, Jaxom, I wish I could have met them." She said, smiling at him, before looking at where they had come to. They had arrived back at the infirmary, and Charlie sighed. She had nothing left to do, but she had nobody to hang out with. It had been nice to walk with someone, and she hoped Jaxom was not in a rush to go, because she was enjoying his company. "Do you prefer to be called Jaxom? Or Jax? Or do you not mind either?" She asked, shrugging off the leather jacket, getting another strong whiff of that scent that carried with it, and passing it to Jaxom. "Thank you for the jacket." She said, as she found the one she had left in the infirmary, Aubrey's green jacket, and shrugged that over her shoulders, zipping it up so that it not only covered the gash in her arm, but the bruises over her shoulders and collarbone as well. Having finished her run, she let her hair out, allowing it to fall over her shoulders in dark waves, as she looked for a water bottle. She found one and took a long drink, thirsty from her run, her stomach growled just at that moment. And she quickly covered it with her hand, embarrassed that Jaxom had heard that, and hoping that he wouldn't comment. She didn't really feel like eating today, even if she was incredibly hungry... yet maybe she should.

Interacting with: Jaxom Wolfiee

Aubrey Amber Stark || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn

Finn was immediately aggressively defensive, as Aubrey had hoped, and had known, he would be. As they let go of their hands, his seemed quite clammy, had he been nervous? She couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. She stood up with him, watching as he verbally processed what she had told him, and tried to think about what they could do to find out this secret person who was terrorizing her sister and mother. "Finn I have no idea! Charlie doesn't speak to me about these kinds of things! Not even when I speak to her about my own... Well... she just keeps her private life.. private, even from me." Aubrey had to bite her tongue to stop herself, almost giving away the time that Julian had tried to rape her, and she had cried to Charlie and her mother about it. After something like that, she would have hoped that Charlie would open up about her own life. How long had she been seeing this man? How long had he been hurting her? She was boiling with anger, and a little... a lot... of fear. She clenched her fists. "Well... We can follow her? Or follow the men we know she knows and hangs out with, not that it's very many... I know she had... some bullies from her childhood! We could probably try and find out who they were and go from there? I'm sure that she wouldn't have a lover that was once a bully, but Charlie is sickeningly nice and would probably do it if she thought they had changed. This is.... just so wrong! I want to hurt whoever this is so bad. We should carry weapons with us, I know we aren't really supposed to... but we have to, for Charlie's well being. Because what if we found her with him and he was hurting her? I would definitely want a knife at that point to give him a piece of his own medicine." Aubrey was heaving with angered breaths, and she cracked her knuckles nervously, trying to calm her breathing rate down, she was angry, but not only that, she was scared. SCARED! Why was she always so scared? She looked at Finn. He wasn't scared. He was perfect, he looked angry and ready to take on the world, where as she felt like she was trembling and wanting to hide from the world. But she couldn't, and she wouldn't, never would she turn her back on her sister, her best friend, and the chance to be brave and kick ass. She sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair. "Maybe you could ask Harper? Just subtle like? Or... We could sneak into her room at home! She's not there right now, maybe she has something hidden there? What do you say?" She asked, she almost extended her hand out to his, before pinning it to her side, she was asking for his hand too much, she was being cowardly if she did that, so she sucked her breath, holding it as she waited for Finn to reply.

Admittedly, Finn's reasonings for not wanting to do this was fair, it felt wrong and it wasn't very nice to sneak through peoples personal belongings. But after Aubrey had gone over how awful it was that Charlie was being abused and this was all for Charlie's benefit and she really really needed Finn's help, he said he would. She couldn't tell if he was reluctant or nervous or just uncomfortable, but she was glad he was going to come with her. So they began to walk towards Sasha's house, which wasn't too far away. As they walked, Aubrey held her arms awkwardly around herself, her mind thinking more about her fear simulation, and inability to do it well. She glanced at Finn. "Hey... um... How are your fear sims going?" She asked, her voice a tad shaky. "I don't really want to talk about mine, so I understand if you're the same, but... They're awful. I feel so angry that I can't get over them faster, and it makes me feel like I'm not quite as brave as I should be." She said, being as vulnerable as she dared be, and huffed in a deep breath, breathing it out slowly as to calm her pounding heart. Her fear sims were so scary, so terrifying... She remembered the first one, one of Harper's own fears, yet also one of hers... of being weak. And she had to fight Finn, who was beating her and she was too weak to fight him, then when she did... she had to kill him... Aubrey felt queasy at that memory, going slightly pale... She didn't want to think about that. Then there was the first of her own, being thrown into the water, and when she thought Finn would save her, he tried to drown her... Or the latest one, being unable to move, paralyzed, and Julian and Bastian were going to do disgusting things to her... She shivered, remembering how their eyes had gazed at her and how their hands, no matter how fake a simulation was, had felt so disgusting upon her. It had been an embarrassing, and very terrifying fear. She had been avoiding Julian since that time, and had thankfully not seen him, she didn't even know if he had made it past the first phase of initiation, because she had avoided him so much. "Hey.. Finn.." She began, wondering if her best friend had noticed. "Have you... do you know... whether... umm.. Julian made it through the first phase of initiation? Actually... it doesn't matter... I mean... I.." Aubrey gave a large sigh and crossed her arms, her mouth closing, unable to try and fix her sentence.

Interacting with: Finn Baratheon

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

Fable

Mood: Scared

Location: Roof

Interactions: Dante

Everything was going so well as the two initiates soared from roof to roof like majestic falcons cutting through the sky. Fable had a genuine smile on her face as she hit the hard base at the top of the building and her feet continued to slap across the ground without hesitation. It was freeing in a way that was unlike any other and just as Dante probably planned it helped to lessen the burden that the fear simulation left weighing heavily on her mind. With the wind in her hair, she could practically taste the way her fears melted away and left her soul a sunny gold. Emerald and ice colored eyes were locked onto the boy who was racing just ahead of her having gotten a head start when he first suggested the race. Moments like these made her more than grateful that she had someone like Dante in her life.

In an instant, however, she felt fear unlike ever before when she watched him almost plummet over the edge. It wasn’t the fear she was used to, the fear she knew and had grown to expect. It wasn’t the fear of pain or self-preservation that she had grown up with, no, this fear was far more intense. The fear of losing her friend for good flooded Fable’s entire mind, body, and soul as she watched Dante plummet into the seeming abyss. From where she ran a few feet behind him she couldn’t spot the roof below. It seemed he had missed it too as his own scream accompanied hers and she reached out towards him even though she was much too far away.

It took her a second to even register that she had screamed herself. Only when the ringing in her ears died down as she skidded to a halt at the edge of the roof that she felt the sting of a raw throat. Looking over the edge she let out a breathy sigh of relief as she spotted Dante lying on the roof several feet below, his stomach to the sky as he let out what sounded like relief filled laughter. All her fears faded away into a brief heartbeat of irritation for scaring her so badly, then intense gratitude that fate wasn’t cruel enough to rip her best friend away from her.

She might not have known Dante long but Fable could already tell that life would never be the same if he did not exist. He had been her rock in this new world of Dauntless. Together they had weathered every storm, every up and down, every trick and test. He knew her better than her own parents and she needed him to never leave her as childish as that may sound. It was a thought that was far too upsetting to even consider dwelling on as she looked down at him and his foolish smile.

“You jerk!” She shouted down to him before disappearing further back onto the roof. A heartbeat later she came soaring over the edge and landed beside Dante, her boots slamming the ground. “I thought you were a goner!” She gasped as she swatted his arm and took her place beside him looking up at the sky. “You are absolutely rotten Dante!” She added and crossed her arms over her chest. A second later however she was leaning her head against his shoulder as they lay on the roof. “I’m glad you are okay. You are never allowed to pick what we do again though.” She informed him with a nudge. “Not ever Mr. Bright Idea Man!”

jrink

code by Stardust Galaxy

Thorn

Mood: Embarassed

Location: Streets

Interactions: Blair

Thorn was relieved when he managed to catch Blair before she hit the ground. It felt like she had struggled at first but out of his one good eye, he saw what she was so desperate to catch. Cards? He couldn’t help the seed of surprise that sprouted inside of him. Her desperation to catch the cards had almost caused him to lose his grip on her but she had reached for them like they were a bomb about to go off. I mean, I guess they are a pain to pick up if they scatter? He attempted to justify not finding it his place to judge the importance of something to another person.

He continued to apologize as he helped Blair steady herself and return to her feet. It seemed that the moment had temporarily stunned her but she quickly gathered herself and her thoughts because soon after she was looking at him. She insisted that it was her fault and that she should have been watching her path but Thorn knew that he was also to blame since he hadn’t even been focusing on where he was going. He had simply let his feet take him anywhere and everywhere while his mind was off in some other world where he could just exist in peace. “I’m just glad you seem to be okay.” He admitted as he rubbed his neck, a habit he had developed that only really occurred when he was worried about someone. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” He asked looking her up and down, both eyes moving but only one seeing.

It seemed that something else had caught Blair’s attention though as he spoke to her. He followed her eyes to a shiny metal object on the ground, his tree. Heat rose to his cheeks as she reached down to grab it. He hadn’t been expecting others to see it so soon, or ever, and it was far from finished. As Blair straightened up to look at him with the metal object in her hand the young dark-haired boy did his best to suppress his embarrassment. “Yeah!” He nodded as she spoke his name. “And you’re Blair, right?” He already knew that of course. Blair and her friends had been some of the most popular kids in Dauntless growing up. She hung out with some of the factions finest, or at least from what he had seen, such as Chris, Randi, and Poppy. It honestly surprised him that she knew his name since he had existed in a completely different universe from her despite growing up in the faction together.

As she held the pendant in the making out to him Thorn reached forward with gentle calloused hands and took it back, his thumb running carefully along the branches and trunk of the tree to see how much damage it had taken during the fall. A dent here, a bend there, nothing too major, in fact, Thorn actually liked it seeing as it made the tree look far more natural and weathered. “Yeah, yeah sorry! Thanks for picking it up for me.” He thanked with a dorky yet appreciative smile pulling at his lips. “Oh, yeah!” He replied in answer to her question. “It isn’t done yet but I’ve been working on it for basically all of initiation…if not before then.” He admitted knowing it looked as though so little had been done when really it had taken a great amount of time and patience to get this far. “Thank you. I really appreciate that. I feel like it is missing something but I can’t think of what.” He admitted as he looked down at the little tree and all its details. His eyes then shifted to the cards in Blair’s waistband and his eyebrows quirked in curiosity. “Cool cards. I’m guessing you play?” He asked trying to continue the pleasant conversation since the young woman in front of him seemed like she could do with a little friendliness and relaxation.

WanderLust.

code by Stardust Galaxy

 

[Aviator]

Ghost // Male // Age 18 // Training Instructor // Erudite to Dauntless
​

Ghost hated surprises. They were the confounding variable that threw off his carefully calculated equations. He could not control something that came as a surprise, therefore he could not trust it. He likened this particular surprise of Alex’s sudden manifestation to the feeling of an unexpected slap. Amid alternating flashes of stinging shock, fear of a follow-up blow, and more than a little indignation, Ghost’s face struggled to maintain its natural coloring. Ten yards away Alex Young sat with neat, straight-backed regality in a chair across from Randi, wearing a superior smile as he swiveled to regard Ghost. Ghost heard a roaring in his ears that he belatedly realized was his heart, striking like a big bell of terror in his chest. The message was dazzlingly clear to him: We can find you anywhere. We can sneak up on your friend and put a bullet between her eyes while you’re none the wiser. Maybe we’ll do it to you too.
Breath stuttered into his lungs. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. Just a moment ago the coffees had been ready to tumble from Ghost’s slack grip, but now his hands were clenched so tight that white bloomed across their backs. It was a small miracle that the paper cups weren’t crushed into a twisted, unrecognizable mass as he imagined Alex Young’s throat in their place. A violent, dark desire rampaged through Ghost. Not since Drex had he wanted to hurt someone so badly, to see them crumple at his boots in defeat and beg his forgiveness. But that would have to wait. Getting Randi away from Alex and defusing the potentially lethal situation at hand took priority. Ghost already had too much death on his conscience, both those who had fallen by his hand or by another’s while Ghost had watched. He wasn’t about to let Randi get added to that count.
The wink that Alex appeared to flash at him came so fast that Ghost couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it. As if losing interest in Ghost or sorely unimpressed with what he had found, Alex’s smile faded into an expression of neutrality, and he smoothly turned back to his conversation with Randi. Ghost’s blood hardened into ice. He knew it was just for show and that Randi would start suspecting things if Alex’s gaze lingered on him for too long, but Alex did not get to waltz into the Dauntless compound, discreetly take one of Ghost’s friends hostage, and then dismiss him with barely a glance. Drawing the Youngs’ attention to oneself for an extended period was as dangerous as dancing with death, but some vain, foolish part of Ghost found it addictively flattering to have such powerful potential enemies. When Alex turned away from him so lightly, Ghost’s chest tightened like that of a spurned lover. It took him a moment to pinpoint the emotion as jealousy.
Don’t lose your head, a voice told him. The voice was right; Ghost couldn’t trust himself when he was in the grip of potent emotions. He imagined them as a thin candle flame snuffed in too strong a wind. Reassuming control of himself, he broke out of his stock-still stupor and crossed the rest of the way to Randi’s table, his face a mask of reserved curiosity at the appearance of this strange newcomer reclining in his seat. He set the coffees down, one before Randi and his own at the very edge of the round table. “My apologies,” he said, greeting Alex with a faintly troubled frown. “If I had known we’d be having company, I would have ordered for three.” Ghost pivoted to an adjacent table, snagged a chair, and positioned it between Randi’s and Alex’s. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, careful to keep his body language open and unassuming. Ghost didn’t touch his coffee, except to remove the lid and swirl its lustrous black contents with a straw. As he switched his gaze to Randi, he let the coffee remain between Alex and himself. “I see that you are quite the popular personage, Brandish. Consider me honored to have monopolized a few hours of your time.”
Randi basked in his praise, and Ghost leaned forward as she tittered a playful response, resting his elbows on the table and propping his chin on his laced hands. Such an unapologetic breach of etiquette as elbow resting would have caused any one of Alex’s family to blow a fuse. Even when they were children, Alex had always accused Ghost of being a churlish and uncultured barbarian, and this was Ghost’s subtle nod to that memory. But he liked to think that he had learned important lessons since his childhood. He had changed in so many ways from the person he had once been, in ways that one so sheltered and spoiled as Alex could never hope to comprehend. In ways that no parent hoped would become of their child. Having to fight an uphill battle for one’s survival every single day tended to do that to a person.
And yet, whether the sum total of those innumerable changes was for better or worse, Ghost had evolved since his Erudite days. Of his own volition or not, his boundaries had been pushed and hacked away at until he’d undergone metamorphosis. He had taken chances and become someone new and individual and independent, whereas Alex Young was still stuck as his father’s lapdog, still taking orders and running errands and working connections just as he had been that day six years ago when Erudite society had turned its back on Ghost. Ghost knew that he was no hero, but at least he had done something and been wrong rather than done nothing and been wrong. There is no reward without risk, his father used to tell him, and while Ghost disagreed with many of the late Averill’s philosophies, this was not one of them.
He snapped back to the moment as Alex indicated Ghost with an elegant, sweeping gesture. “Please call me Ghost,” he said in reply to the younger boy’s inquiry. Ghost didn’t quite smile—he had outgrown that habit long ago and doing so now would have been highly uncharacteristic—at Alex, but he managed to arrange his features into an expression of mild, polite interest. “And your name, sir?” Ghost nodded upon introduction. Knowing what he had to do, he extended his hand toward Alex before he could back out. There was once a time, not too long ago, when physical touch disturbed Ghost so deeply that he would take a reflexive step back whenever someone drew too near, and an accidental brush of fingers would send him scrubbing the contaminated hand against his pantleg, trying desperately to remove the tingling traces of that touch.
But everything had changed that first time when Charlie had cradled his chin in her hands and slanted her mouth atop his. And with that kiss Ghost had felt some mangled piece of himself fall away, and suddenly he regretted every moment she stopped touching him. Still, while physical contact didn’t send him reeling anymore, Ghost seriously doubted he would ever be the kind of person who found comfort in hugs or casually tapped others to get their attention. It had required more than a modicum of courage to offer his hand to Alex Young—his left hand. Alex and the coffee cup both were positioned on Ghost’s left, and so his gambit wouldn’t work if Ghost used his right hand to shake. He didn’t hesitate, sitting straight, his expression even, not betraying the faintest flicker of uncertainty that this might not be a typical behavior. Please don’t say anything, he willed Alex, keenly aware of Randi’s warm gaze on them. Ghost wanted his and Alex’s escape to seem as natural as possible. No questions, no raised brows.
Blessedly, Alex had been trained all his life to accept his father’s orders without question, and he stayed true to form as he clasped Ghost’s left hand with his own. Alex’s grip was hot and unnecessarily firm, reminding Ghost of a predator with a small defenseless creature locked in its jaws. Despite the increased tolerance to touching that he’d learned in the past few weeks, the warm, fleshy pressure made his skin squirm and itch, his senses suddenly kicking into overdrive, and Ghost fought the overwhelming temptation to retract his hand from Alex’s prematurely. Ghost waited out the agonizing beats until it was socially acceptable to let go. Just as Alex was starting to say something, Ghost withdrew his arm and allowed his elbow to bump the coffee sitting on the rim of the table between Alex and him.
For a moment, the cup gave a dangerous teeter, dancing on its edge. Ghost’s heart went with it, suddenly terrified that he hadn’t hit the cup with enough force and it was too full to tip. But luck was on his side, and as the lidless cup flipped and bounced against the tabletop, an inky-dark torrent came jetting out. Black coffee sluiced across tawny wood, spilling over the rim of the table and puddling in Alex’s lap. To his credit, Alex kept his composure. He suffered through Ghost’s accident with grace, revealing his frustration only with a too-tight jaw. Ghost gasped and shot to his feet, feigning shock as he lunged across the table for the napkins opposite him. Content with the chaos and confusion it had wreaked, the empty cup rolled off the table and thumped against the floor. With his fistful of napkins, Ghost tried to mop up the worst of the spill, only for the flimsy brown paper to crinkle into saturated uselessness the moment it contacted the spreading black mess.
The boy who had bolted up from his seat was Ghost, but he was not Ghost. His raven hair was mussed from the frenzied speed of his movements, his manner flustered. He kept his eyes averted from Alex, turned down to the table, his chin tucked into his collar as if hopelessly embarrassed—a boy who had been schooled in etiquette, willing to humble himself to strangers if that was the price of courtesy. “Terribly sorry, sir!” he exclaimed to Alex, shrinking so deeply into his coat that he might disappear. “Please forgive my clumsiness. Oh dear, your clothes are all stained…” He redoubled his frantic efforts to soak up the coffee.
Alex played along. The voice that came out of him was as soft and smooth as sand slithering into an hourglass. “Yes, absolutely,” Ghost said, nodding along vigorously to Alex’s request. “Here, let me escort you to the men’s room and help you clean up.” Ghost threw down his sopping rags onto the table, eager for the strange play he and Alex were putting on for Randi to reach its climax. The time to retreat behind the curtain had come. Flicking droplets off his fingers, he swung toward Randi. “I am so sorry for this abrupt conclusion to our outing, but please don’t wait up for me. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone any further. See you at training tomorrow.” Ghost dipped his head in farewell and hurried to catch up with Alex, whose bearing was made only slightly clunky from the clothes plastered to his skin. A chasm of relief opened up inside Ghost as Randi remained behind, out of harm’s way… for the moment, at least. He would have to do something to discourage a repeat of Alex’s surprise visit, especially if the Erudite boy insisted on sitting down for coffee with Ghost’s friends.
Two things surprised Ghost in that last rapid series of thoughts. One: that he not only cared for Randi’s safety, but had inexplicably started to think of her as a friend. He distinctly recalled that just minutes ago was the second time he had addressed her by her first name alone. And two: that he had thought of Alex as comparatively more Erudite than himself. Well, it only made sense, Ghost supposed. Ghost had visited his birth faction only on a handful of occasions over the past six years—and mostly with criminal intent—whereas Alex returned to an Erudite home every night. But Ghost had lived among the Dauntless long enough to know that no way in hell was he one of them, either, and his aptitude test would have told him if he was Divergent. So what did that make him? Nothing? A misfit who wouldn’t or couldn’t conform to the system? Erudite among the Dauntless, but Dauntless among the Erudite, as if some crucial piece inside of Ghost was liable to change depending on his company? But that sounded like surrendering control of his identity to someone else, and there was no way that Ghost would allow others to make his decisions for him.
There was a sound like the chew of gravel beside him. Ghost blinked back to the present and belatedly realized that Alex was speaking. Goddammit, if he kept allowing himself to get lost in the logic puzzles of his thoughts, it would only be a matter of time until someone snuck up on him and put a knife through his back. “Consider the coffee burns a warning. Repeat this charade, and next time I pour it over your head,” Ghost seethed, ignoring the taller boy’s question. Once they were out of Randi’s earshot, Alex’s shift in temperature was volatile and almost dizzying in its completion. But Ghost was well acquainted with this game and didn’t lose his footing. “I realize that your family is accustomed to having people in Erudite bend over backwards for you, but you’re even more of an overprivileged parasite than I thought if you expect the same treatment among the Dauntless.”
The saber dangling at Ghost’s waist jangled with his every other step. He fingered the hilt idly, itching to pull it free and use it but restraining himself. Instead, he swung out of the lobby and turned right into the maze of halls beyond, Alex on his heels. There had actually been a restroom inside the coffee shop where they could have talked, but in all of Alex’s infinite wisdom, he had started walking off in the opposite direction before Ghost had finished exchanging goodbyes with Randi. Either way, he was glad that Randi wouldn’t be able to follow Alex and him into the men’s room. Or would she anyway? A splinter of fear cut through Ghost when he realized that, if Randi had made up her mind to follow, a men’s room probably wouldn’t stop her.
When a restroom came into sight, Alex picked up his pace, clearly eager to try to wash the worst of the stains out of his parchment-white shirt. He didn’t hold the door for Ghost as he stormed inside, and Ghost flung an arm out to keep it from swinging back and smacking him in the face. Inside, the restroom appeared empty. Just to be sure, Ghost crouched down and checked the line of stalls for feet, trying not to feel like a creep and achieving mixed success. All vacant; he and Alex were free to speak. The heirs of two of Erudite’s most elite families faced off, one former and one current, one small and one tall, one scowling and one smiling.
Naturally, Alex prefaced their business with a litany of taunts and insults with a dash of gloating. When Ghost grew bored with the details of how much a miserable waste of life he was, he interrupted, “Look, I know why you’re here. Your dear daddy is anxious for results but couldn’t be bothered to come have a chat with me personally, so he sent you in his stead like the little errand boy you are. Well, you can report back to your father that the job is getting along just fine, and that I have the week and a half remaining in Phase Two and all of next phase too to figure out who’s Divergent and who’s not.” That much was a bluff. The crucial difference between Phases Two and Three was that all initiates were aware the Phase Three simulations weren’t real, not just those who were Divergent. Once Phase Two ended, it would be impossible for Ghost to determine who wasn’t Divergent from who was, unless there was some other way that he had yet to figure out. But Ghost hoped that Alex and his father’s unfamiliarity with Dauntless initiation would keep them from calling his bluff, especially when Phase Two and Three appeared so similar to those who hadn’t experienced the serums for themselves.
Ghost wasn’t afraid of Alex, but his father was a whole other story; only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of Jiao-Long Young’s limitless hunger for power and sometimes brutal exercise of it. As Alex had demonstrated with his stunt with Randi, Ghost was walking on thin ice. It wouldn’t be hard for a handful of spies to deduce whom Ghost was hanging out with and hold his friends’ lives over his head if Jiao-Long found Ghost a disagreeable business partner. Even now, Ghost’s hands were cold and clammy with sweat as he tried to stand calmly with them folded over his stomach.
Alex stood at the row of sinks, dabbing at his shirt with a wad of moist paper towels. Not once did he glance up from his task to meet Ghost’s eyes, like Ghost wasn't worth the gum on the bottom of his shoe. In a listless voice, as if he were dryly reciting lines from a script, Alex asked when Ghost would produce his promised results. “Before graduation. Your father already knows that. Patience, Alex,” Ghost said airily, “is a virtue. One that clearly you and your father have yet to master.” Underneath the note of cool unconcern in his voice, Ghost was struggling to keep terror from consuming him. What if next time Young sent some thugs after Charlie and instructed them to make her not pretty anymore? How was Ghost ever supposed to keep his promise to Blair that he would help her unravel the tightly-woven conspiracy surrounding the Divergents when such dire consequences loomed over him? What if his dream to rise up and challenge the dysfunctional fanaticism that was the faction system died before it was ever born?
Ghost swallowed thickly. He had to do something to take his mind off the fear before it showed; any poker face was only so durable. “Hey, Alex,” he said into the stifling silence that had settled over the restroom. The spark of an idea leapt into Ghost’s mind. “How would you like a tour of the initiates’ part of the compound? Show you what a day in the life is like?” For the first time, Alex caught Ghost’s eyes in the mirror. The younger boy’s gaze was steely, and he wore a sneer that Ghost worried might mean Alex would refuse. But the expression was fast and fleeting, like a cloud passing over the sun. Alex’s endlessly elastic face broke out into a smile, as if just when he’d been about to deem Ghost a hopeless case, he had shown some small sign of potential. Clearly trying to downplay his enthusiasm, Alex hemmed and hawed for a bit but eventually agreed.
As Ghost led the way out of the restroom, he said, “You know, Alex. It may not look very inviting at first, but it grows on you. While the Dauntless are often a rowdy bunch, there’s something so liberating about the ability to draw a knife on the little pissant getting under your skin without anyone batting an eye.” Ghost allowed a wisp of a smile to twist his lips at the memory of the Visiting Day party. How Alex’s planned confrontation of him had gone so wonderfully awry when Alex had ended up on the wrong end of Ghost’s knife. Alex had almost cried when Ghost had had him on his knees, shoved up against a wall. He had been so close to tears. A breath away. It made Ghost confident that Alex would have a full-on breakdown in just a few minutes, once Ghost accomplished his objective.

* * *​

The underground portion of the compound was notoriously dim. Combined with the uneven cavern floor, it was some feat that Ghost had never turned an ankle walking along it as an initiate, and now he enjoyed watching Alex stumble along behind him, occasionally tripping and catching himself on a wall. “All those years of dance clearly went to waste,” Ghost remarked when Alex once staggered into him. “You have all the grace of a herd of elephants.” Despite being the ostensible tour guide, Ghost had not immediately volunteered to take the lead during his and Alex’s exploration of the Dauntless compound. Rather, Ghost had walked at a leisurely pace and let Alex fall a half step behind him, tailing Ghost like a shadow. That way, Alex had no misconceptions about who was dependent on whom here, and who was the dominant force.
They shuffled through one final series of serpentine twists and turns, and emerged into the waiting room where initiates waited their turn to undergo simulations. Ghost blinked; the sudden intensity of light always took a moment to adjust to. “And this is where the magic happens,” Ghost said with a grand gesture. “Would you like to see the inside of a testing room?” Without waiting for Alex’s reply, he strode toward the same testing room—Maverick’s—that he and Randi had used an hour ago for their simulated duel. Ever the charismatic host, Ghost unlocked the door and held it open for Alex, beckoning. As the other boy went to pass by, a jagged line of skin on Alex’s neck gleamed silver in the fluorescent bars overhead. Ghost held out a hand to stop Alex’s procession. “Is that a scar I see?” Ghost made a show of tilting his head to examine Alex’s neck, to which Ghost had held a knife upon their last meeting. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about rushing a trained Dauntless—and you’re supposed to be among Erudite’s best and brightest?” Ghost snickered. Without his family around to run things, Erudite was going to hell in a handbasket. “All the same, it looks to be healing up rather nicely.”
The look that Alex shot him was venomous enough to make flowers wilt and die. For a second, Ghost was amazed by the striking resemblance between father and son; he’d seen that same look on Jiao-Long’s face too many times to count. Snorting his disdain, Alex muscled his way into the room, ramming a shoulder into Ghost as he passed. Ghost followed. The motion-sensor lights sprang on, and he shut the door with an ominous click. Alex circled the perimeter of the cramped little room with deliberate, sharp steps, head cocked as he took in the beat-up leather chair and rows of cabinets and drawers, looking like a spectator watching a disappointing act at the fair. “The computer is probably the only thing you’ll find interesting in here. While initiates are in the grips of the fear serum, we instructors see everything they’re seeing displayed on the screen,” Ghost droned, until finally Alex took the hint and moved to inspect the computer. Ghost kept yammering to mask the sound of his footsteps, the slight squeal of a drawer sliding open.
“As you can see, it’s cutting-edge technology, able to read billions of neurons at once and translate the imagined hallucinations an initiate experiences into a visible picture that makes sense to an onlooker. A significant minority of the faction slanders it as mind-reading, and thinks such technology ought to be banned, but the movement has never gained much—”
Ghost cut off as Alex gave a sharp yelp. Alex went to turn, but Ghost grabbed a fistful of the taller boy’s hair and held tight, keeping his head in place. The final dregs of fear serum drained into Alex’s neck, and Ghost removed the syringe. Anticipating the scream that was bubbling on Alex’s lips, Ghost spun him around and clamped a pale hand over Alex’s mouth in one fluid motion. Above Ghost’s hand, Alex’s hickory eyes had expanded to take up almost a quarter of his face. The heirs of two of Erudite’s most elite families faced off, one victorious and one about to learn what it felt like to lose everything.
“Traction,” Ghost said softly, finally completing his previous lecture. “Shhh…” Placing his other hand on Alex’s shoulder, he eased his nemesis down into the leather chair beside the computer, where so many Dauntless initiates had sat before him. “It will all be over soon. But you’ll wish it were much, much sooner.” As Alex’s eyes fluttered, indicating the serum had very nearly taken hold, Ghost released him and stepped away. And the last sound Alex Young would have heard before descending into the abyss of his worst nightmares was the cold laugh of long-awaited revenge exacted.

 

[WanderLust.]

Blair Avalon // 16 // Dauntless Born // Initiate // Divergent
Interacting With: Thorn Sanctuaryforall1

Blair had almost forgotten about the cards in her waistband until Thorn brought attention to them. He seemed to have made the assumption that she played cards... a rational conclusion considering people didn't normally walk around with a pack of cards on them. He wasn't wrong though. Blair had grown up with four older brothers which had essentially forced her to master her poker face... even though she usually had pretty rotten luck with the hands she was dealt. Cautiously, she reached for the deck of cards, removing them from her waist band and turning them over in her hand, staring at them. She was still trying to wrap her mind around how Ghost had managed to place them there with out her noticing, but that mystery would have to remain unsolved for now as a tiny smile pulled at her lips. "Uh... do you know how to play poker?"

Surprisingly, it was hard to decipher the look on Thorn's face. Blair was usually pretty good at reading people, well... at reading dauntless borns. Most of them wore their emotions like a badge of honor, Thorn was different however. Perhaps he was like her... too kind for his own good. Regardless, Blair let out a small laugh, gently grabbing the dark haired boys wrist and pulling him in the direction of the bar most of the initiates got food at, "Come on, I'll show you." It was a short walk to the bar, and as usual, it was buzzing with activity. Perhaps Blair should've been more nervous, Ghost knew her secret now, what if he had already told dauntless leadership? What if people were out looking for her right now? Yet... she was surprisingly calm with Thorn as they sat down in one of the more secluded booths that provided them with a little distance from the noisy crowd.

Blair ordered herself a sandwich, but when the order came she mostly just picked at the French fries on the side. She hadn't realized that this was the first thing she had eaten all day, despite that, she still wasn't very hungry. Perhaps the days events were getting to her. "So how did your fear sim go today?" she asked almost absentmindedly, as if it weren't an invasive question at all. She then realized that if she had been asked that same question she would've clammed up on the spot. "Sorry-" she shook her head, trying to catch herself "You don't have to answer that, I know its kinda personal..." she trailed off, looking at her sandwich. Blair wrinkled her nose as she realized the sliced pickle on the side, picking it up and scooting it to the side of her plate. She looked up at Thorn with a sheepish smile "I hate pickles." she admitted, feeling a little childish.

Blair suddenly heard a loud crash from the other side of the bar and nearly jumped out of her seat. The blondes face immediately paled, her heart racing as she searched for the source of the chaos. She was absolutely sure Ghost had spilled her secret, that some divergent hunter was currently on his way to come and slit her throat, until she realized it was merely a drunken man who had dropped his glass of beer. The glass had shattered on the floor, its contents had landed on a nearby patron who was not at all happy about being soaked with beer and a fight had broken out. Blair slowly let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding despite the current fight that was unfolding. Fights? She was used to them, in face, she rolled her eyes at the overwhelming amount of testosterone in the bar. When her attention turned back to Thorn she realized he was looking at her funny. Of course he was, why had she panicked so much from the commotion that was almost a daily occurrence at the bar? "Sorry ... I'm just a little... on edge today, I guess." She pushed a look of blonde hair behind her ear as a hot blush rose to her cheeks.

Maverick Maddox // 18 // Dauntless Born // Instructor
Interacting With: Poppy Wolfiee (Bella mentioned MWMASkairipa )

Maverick had almost preferred the conversation about Poppy's father. That was something tangible, something he could explain... something he could control if he had to. But the shift in conversation from her father to the kiss was inevitable, he should've been prepared for it, and yet he wasn't. When Poppy stepped forward, pressing her head against his chest, Maverick found himself holding his breath. His arms wrapped around her almost out of instinct. How many times had they hugged when they were children? It had never been an issue then, and yet now everything felt different... forbidden. I don't regret the kiss Maverick. His entire body stiffened, they were already treading in dangerous waters and it seemed Poppy wanted to swim deeper. As she continued to speak Maverick allowed his eyes to flick around, making sure there were no witnesses to their secret embrace. "Poppy...."

He paused taking a deep breath before gently placing his hands on her shoulders, pushing her far enough away so that he could see her face and it was no longer buried in his chest. "You're my best friend and you know I've always cared for you." he smiled softly, he wasn't lying. Poppy was important to him, but he wasn't sure if that transferred into a romantic interest... if it should... if it even could. "I don't want to.... " he fumbled trying to find the right words as his grey eyes searched hers, "I don't wanna mess things up for us." He admitted softly. He wasn't going to lie, Poppy and him were compatible. They had had a great friendship over the years and it wasn't as if he wasn't attracted to her, but would he be leading her on by telling her these things? It wasn't a lie, and he didn't know where it would lead. Was it wrong to guarantee hope when he couldn't promise her anything?

The moment she had mentioned Bella, Maverick's stomach had dropped. Oh yes, he was romantically involved with not one, but two initiates. What the hell was he doing? Part of him wanted to run away from the situation, to swear off women forever and just focus on his damn job, but he knew he couldn't do that. "You always have been able to read me like a book..." he sighed softly, clearly Poppy wasn't the only one that had noticed the seeds of romance blossoming between Maverick and Bella the night of Blair's birthday party. He had already been catching shit for it from Ghost and his brother, even if it was only in the form of fleeting glares and eye rolls. "I have feelings for you Poppy.... and I have feelings for Bella. And I know that that's not fair to either of you... and quite frankly, I shouldn't have feelings for either of you. But you're right, maybe us not being alone together is for the best... until we figure this out." he looked down at his feet for a moment, feel ashamed for how this had all unfolded.

"I don't want you to get hurt." He finished, and their conversation seemed to over. Poppy obviously had somewhere to be as she mentioned letting him know how things went with her father. When she pulled away he let his hand grip onto hers for a moment longer, bringing her fingers to his lips and pressing the softest of kisses against her knuckles. "Please be careful..." He didn't want to let her go, but this seemed to be the natural end point for their conversation. His grip loosened until he dropped her hand and she was free to leave. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? After their entire conversation Maverick still felt like he hadn't even remotely figured out what he felt... or who he felt it for. He let out a heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his dark hair... perhaps now it was time to straighten things out with Bella.

​

 

[paralyzed]

Night Scott | Abnegation-born, Dauntless initiate.


Interactions: Bella/ MWMASkairipa


He always dreamed of going into the city as a child. Not just seeing it from afar, but experiencing it from within. The dangers and beauty of it. Now that he was here, buildings reaching towards the sky everywhere he looked, he understood his childhood desire to come here. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to observe it since it became his new surroundings, spending most of his time in the caves of dauntless. He looked at the buildings that surrounded him in every direction. They weren't nature nor were they necessarily pleasing to the eye. But to him they were beautiful pieces of architecture compared to the square of a home he grew up in. Behind each building a story, a reason for their existence. A few of the building had flaws of their own, pieces of metal twisting in unnatural directions. Others being more noticeable, had large symptoms of destruction in their walls. Their insides visible to him. Their glass shattered, never to reflect a beam of light again. They all looked older then his grandparents, as if they could fall over never to stand again. But most of the buildings were still fully or at least partially intact, all having at least one piece of glass, which light glistened off of as they reflected the sun above. The buildings reminded him of the being that he was. Several resembled each other while others differed in appearance greatly. Some were shorter than others, a few more broken from years of discord. Each of them though, were built with a purpose.


He listened to Bella’s response to his question and couldn’t help but imagine her wearing shades of pastel. He didn’t know why but that image gave him a bit of nostalgia from the sunset ridden day he had retold only moments ago. He kind of wished the members of his faction would be allowed to wear clothing other than the dark hues of dauntless. Maybe then they would be allowed to express themselves as an individual rather than just a member of a faction. Oh who was he kidding, that’s all he and anyone else would ever be. The clothing he wore represented who he was already, a member of dauntless. His mind conjured a reply along the lines of well your mother was right but he shot it down before letting it escape his mouth. To him it was a just compliment you would give to a friend but who knows how Bella would take it, he didn't want to make his new friendship weird for either of them. Grinning, he replied with the next response he could think of, “Well if our similar taste in colors has anything to say, I think we’re gong to be great friends.”

‘Tired, is all’
After hearing how Bella was feeling, Night recounted the last few days of training. Tired.
Night felt that, or at least he thought he did. He imagined most of the transfer initiates would be feeling pretty beat down from dauntless training. He knew his own body was having a hard time adjusting. Going from handing out clothes to this was exhausting. But in the end, Night knew dauntless training would be worth it.

 

[MWMASkairipa]

~She was powerful, not because she wasn't scared, but because she went on so strongly, despite the fear~
~Atticus~
Bella Quinn | 16 | Transfer Initiate | Amity
Bella could agree, somewhat. He seemed nice enough. His personality and excitable nature was honestly rather refreshing as compared to some of the other people in Dauntless. His view of the world, through pastel lenses, wasn't much unlike her own. Though, one key difference between them was, she was willing to bet he hadn't seen the kind of ugly she had. Had he ever experienced tragedy, loss, being at the mercy of a cruel hand? The world was much darker than merely the pastel colors some people saw it in. It was the reason why the small ginger was as reserved as she was. Her past had chosen her path, fate had decided her suffering and her father had carried it out. She had thought for the longest time that it was somehow her fault, that she needed to do better to not disappoint him, to earn his affection, but after a while, she just accepted that world was cruel, even to the kindest people. Eventually, they too would be touched by the darkness in one way or another. There was no avoiding its corruption.

Shivering a little, her hands wrapped around her biceps, a small frown pulling at her brow. As interesting as this conversation was, she was eager to get back inside. She said little else before taking her leave of the tall Abnegation transfer. She... would like to hang out with him again perhaps. She never imagined coming here would allow her to make new friends, particularly with guys. She wasn't the most confident person, and it took her a while to trust, but Night didn't seem to mind, neither had Maverick. That... was something she also needed to sort out.

A soft huff left her lips as the ginger started through the halls, slender fingers rubbing her forehead. Who knew that she'd end up with a crush on a Dauntless guy, an instructor no less. She could only imagine how furious her father would be. He'd always been wary of other factions, but Dauntless he had always been particularly hateful towards. She'd heard him say numerous times how loud and obnoxious and wild they were. Her mother would always respond in typical Amity fashion; to show them kindness and extend grace anyway. The small girl thought she'd had her mother to ask her opinion on boys, but now she was figuring this out alone. "Maybe if I'd had your help, I wouldn't have made such a mess of things already..." the girl muttered, running her fingers through her fiery locks. Maverick deserved to know the truth, no matter how difficult it was for her to open up. He had, and she'd basically told him to f*ck off. Gosh she was a horrible person for dismissing a confession like that. She needed to fix it. How hard could it be to find the instructor the size of a bear?

As she rounded another corner, sapphire hues fixed on the concrete beneath her feet, she failed to notice the form coming towards her and ended up smacking right into his firm chest. A sense of dejavu washed over her, her mind casting back to Blair's party and the strong arms that had caught her then. When her eyes opened, they rested on the one guy she'd been thinking of for most of the afternoon. A blush dusted over her cheeks as he helped her upright again. "Maverick... uh... hi... I um... I was looking for you, actually, not that I meant to run into you, again..." Why was it so hard for her to talk to him? He was just a guy, a human being like her. Tugging at her sleeves, the small girl breathed deep, attempting to calm her nerves. It was just a talk, maybe the start of something more, she didn't know. "Can... can we talk..? If you're busy... that's fine I just... need to apologize... about yesterday..."

//Interactions: Night paralyzed Maverick: WanderLust. ​

 

[Baratheon]

Finn Day

Aubrey seemed just as lost as he, and her anger was evident. While her movements were not as explosive as his own, her darting eyes, shaky stance, and nervous lip-biting could be obvious to anyone. Her words were jumbled, both trailing off and on the edge of shouting. Finn's light eyes gazed at her in desperation. He would hate for any of the women in the Stark family to be hurt. Charlie was very precious to him and, unlike Aubrey who could fight for herself, he felt a strong need to protect rising up in him.

Aubrey clenched her fist, coming up with haphazard plans that probably made sense in her addled mind. Finn took a few deep breaths. None of those ideas were perfect, but they were on the right track. He would be down for watching over Charlie for the next few days, armed or not, and ready to jump on anyone who even approached the dark-haired woman in a menacing way. He turned to Aubrey and gently, slowly placed his hands on her shoulders. She was shaking. From fear? Anger? Her eyes showed both emotions rushing through them like a stormy wind. He gave her a tight smile.

"Let's take time to think this through," He said, "I know we're probably the last two people on earth who ever do anything slowly, but... Charlie would stop us if she thought we knew anything. And we can't let that happen. So I agree we follow her, and Harper would probably want in on it too, but we have to do this really secretly." He paused a moment to think, a dark thought coming to his mind. "And if whoever it is finds out about us too, either we or Charlie could be in more danger."

Aubrey suggested looking through her things. Although the invasion of privacy was not something Finn would normally agree with, this was a dire situation. He nodded in agreement and Aubrey gave him a pretty good reasoning behind doing so. He had to stifle a small smile. She was determined, and so brave. Charlie was lucky to have a sister like her.

And so, the two went on their way. Finn felt like they were on a secret mission of some kind, his hair on his neck standing up. He kept glancing down every corridor, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Was it quieter than normal? Was something watching them? He balled his hands up, wondering what would happen if Charlie was in there when they arrived. What if she was hurt then, when they walked in? Finn didn't know what he would do. Or, even better, if the person was in there when they arrived. A scene of he and Aubrey going ham on this person played in his mind, blood and body parts everywhere. Haha, that would be perfect.

Oh, wait, had Aubrey been talking to him? "Huh?" He asked, before realizing what she had said. "Oh! Yeah, they're good. Not fantastic but I think I've got the hang of them now." He shrugged, not really sure what to say. Any details would give away his secret- one he and Charlie now held- so he wanted to keep his response as casual as possible. Oh, could someone be hurting Charlie because of him? Because he was Divergent? No, this seemed to have been going on for some time and her learning about him was recent. Still... the thought made him shudder. Aubrey spoke a little bit about her own, her frustrations with her own incapability. Finn offered her a small smile, placing a hand on her shoulder as they walked. "Hey, hey, we're still learning. It's one thing to be brave in real life and another in simulations, where everything can be a little more unrealistic. Don't put yourself down, you're the bravest girl I know."

He hoped that was encouraging. Aubrey seemed lost in her thoughts, so his hand slid back to his side and they continued walking. His thoughts strayed to his own simulations, how they seemed to be bent to his will both times. Was that a power of being Divergent? He made a face. Really cool, that was. If he had to suffer the least being Divergent could do was give him super-strength or something. However, he'd never heard of superpowered people before, so that was just a fantasy.

"Julian?" The name caught him off-guard. Aubrey hadn't mentioned him in a long time. His face only darkened at the mention of the boy that had stolen Aubrey away from him for so long. Finn's heart raced at the memory of their fights, of his fists connecting with Julian's face. Why was Aubrey thinking of him? Their break-up had been pretty rough on her, but it was some time ago now. Were her simulations of him? Was she having nightmares, regrets, fears? Finn hoped not. "You know, I don't think he did. You shouldn't have to worry about him any more. He's probably out there on the street with the factionless now, worrying about his own problems far more than doing anything to you. And if he did, well, you've always got me here. Okay?" She had nothing to worry about. Easier said than done, but Finn would help best he could. It seemed they were each fighting their own invisible demons, eager to help the other but hesitant to accept it themselves.

Their steps slowed as they finally found the door to the Stark home. Finn paused to let Aubrey go first, holding his breath. Was anyone home? Oh dear...

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​

Harper Day

-waiting for timeskip-

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​

 

[jrink]

The heat emanating from the solid, still concrete underneath him served as a sort of calming mechanism for Dante, who despite the laughter still spilling from his lips was reeling a bit from what had at least felt like a near-death experience. He didn't really think it was the 'dying' part that was making his heart-beat so fast. Rather, it was the out-of-control nature of the minutes prior, the way he'd grappled at the wind for something, anything to hold onto to wrest some semblance of control and came up empty. That had been scary. But had it been simulation level scary? Dante found he didn't have the energy to compare the two for right now, the dark-haired boy instead pushing those thoughts away and focusing on clearing his thoughts, putting his focus on the blue of the sky above him.

The laughter was finally beginning to come to a pause on his lips when Fable's voice abruptly rang out. The hints of fear (and maybe annoyance?) in the copper-haired girls voice were a little more sobering then the sky had proved to be. Faintly remembering the girl's scream in the minutes following his descent (or had it been his voice he'd heard? he couldn't really remember all of the details of what had just occurred in the minutes prior), something like guilt briefly touched over the Erudite-born's dark eyes.

All this excitement had been his big idea after all. He sat up for a moment (and instantly missed the warmth of that probably dirty pavement) as the red-head descended out of his line of a sight for just a moment. Then her boots abruptly came sailing over-head to land in the space beside him with an audible thump. As she swatted at his arm, Dante's expression became amusedly pained. He curled his other hand around the one she'd swatted and tried to also look appropriately cowed. The admonishment was well-deserved after all. In spite of his best efforts though, Dante found himself just barely surpassing a grin between every spoken word.

"Hey, ease up! You need to be careful with those fists! I just had a near-death experience, okay, and my bones are still just so brittle from it. They could snap if you hit them at just the right angle!"

Dropping the act as Fable curled into the space beside him Dante let his head drop slowly back towards the pavement, let his eyes rest on the sky above. Within a few moments of the silence that took to the air around them along with persistent the heat of the sun, pavement, and Fable's body-heat on one side had Dante's eyelids drooping, trembling with the effort it took to keep them open. It only took him a couple of minutes to lose that fight though, the dark-haired boy letting his eyes droop shut. Today had been such a long day after all, would taking a quick nap somewhere so comfortable really be so bad an idea?

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{ MOOD }
excited

{ LOCATION }
some roofs away from initial roof

{ TAGS }
Sanctuaryforall1

Dante Aiken
erudite-born initiate

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)​

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

Randi

Mood: Curious

Location: Cafe: Start, The Chasm: End

Interactions: Ghost, Alex, OPEN FOR INTERACTION

Ghost was unlike anyone she had ever fought before, that was for sure. The way he thought so many steps ahead, mapped everything out, had a strategy for every twist and turn. Randi couldn’t help but think about it as she replayed the fight in her head over and over again. Somehow luck had been on her side and she came out on top, a fate she was honestly surprised to experience but delighted as well. Her delight only grew as the pair ventured into The Pit for her victory coffee which Ghost would be paying for. The whole way there the young instructor was spewing out detailed theories about how the ashen city they had just fought to the death, more like virtual death, it had come to be the way it was. He spoke of economic crisis leading to the collapse of governments, bombs, doomsday devices. It was a version of Ghost Randi felt she could get used to. He didn’t seem all wound up, he seemed almost like a normal guy enjoying life and having a fun conversation with a friend. Randi of course did her best to chip in from time to time about her own theories but she had to admit that Ghosts were much better. Honestly, it was a topic she enjoyed so she tried to make her theories as creative as she felt the older boy would appreciate, some of which included mutated viruses and environmental collapse.

When they finally arrived at the coffee shop Randi smiled like a kid in a candy store as she glanced at the menu and told Ghost exactly what she wanted. She could see the disgust on his face which only made her smile turn into a cheeky grin. “It’s delicious and I need sugar more than I need air.” She pointed out jokingly as she playfully pointed him in the direction of the line clearly aiming to enjoy her victory as she watched him sigh, roll his eyes, and walk towards the line like a man approaching the gallows.

Once Ghost had split off from her Randi turned, her jade gaze scanning the small café for an empty spot she could claim for Ghost and herself. As she made her way through the semi-crowded seating area, she managed to scoot her way into a chair next to the shop's window with a table and another chair right across from her. It was perfect and provided the simple pleasure of people watching as she awaited Ghost’s return with their drinks. The young platinum blonde could see him across the café as he waited behind what looked like three or four other customers. As she sat her left leg was bouncing up and down rapidly and her fingers were weaving her locks into an intricate braid as her body tried to find ways to pass the time and her gaze watched the faces of Dauntless pass by the window.

Her thoughts about which tattoos were the most creative and how she would redesign several she spotted on those within the crowd outside the shop were interrupted when an unfamiliar voice reeled her in from the far-off place her mind had wandered to. Looking across the table she saw a stranger with a somewhat familiar face looking at her with all the charm of a well-practiced politician, she hated it. Processing his request to join her she was more than tempted to say no and tell the guy to try his con on someone else but something about him made her also a tad curious about what exactly he wanted. “So long as I don’t have to pay for said company I don’t see why not.” Randi replied with a well-practiced smile she gave the guys at the bar when she wanted a big tip for her performance. Something about this guy seemed off, almost as though an alarm in the back of Randi’s head was blaring out of control. She didn’t trust him but that didn’t mean he needed to know that. If there was one thing Randi was an expert at it was flirting. She knew exactly how to keep a conversation going and how much men actually love to talk when a pretty girl is listening. The conversation went smooth as silk, he was polite, his smile was charming, his words exact, everything about him seemed too perfect to be trustworthy. Everyone has flaws and those who try to pretend they don’t are often times covering up the most hideous flaws of all.

The instant Ghost appeared beside the table Randi could sense she was right. It wasn’t often Ghost froze from what she had seen of the man in her time as an initiate. The smile Ghost pulled into place upon his lips was like nothing Randi had ever seen on his face before. There was a clear difference between the smile he had worn on their walk here as they spoke of possible apocalypses compared to the smile he wore now. It wasn’t right, it didn’t reach his eyes, his lips were pulled too tight. Most people would have likely been fooled by it but Randi had witnessed too many fake grins in her life, she knew when someone was putting on a mask.

The way the two of them interacted was like wolves circling one another. One wolf strong while the other injured but still as fierce as ever. Their words danced through the air and Randi held onto each one as she did her best to look as casual and unsuspecting of anything being off between the two men. When Ghost addressed her she gave him a convincing smile and fluttered her eyes as though his statement about monopolizing her time were true. She might not be as smart as an Erudite but she was street smart and knew how to act the part she needed to play while still gathering the information she wanted. The way Ghost addressed this man, acted around him, it was all so curious and at the same time it made her even more uneasy. The show he was putting on for Alex clearly had so many undertones to it, depths that Randi knew she couldn’t even begin to guess let alone comprehend. There was clearly a battle of some kind raging between the two men that was disguised as polite conversation between strangers and Randi could only guess that there was some sort of history between the two. “Don’t sweat it Ghost, there’s plenty of me to go around.” She purred in reply as though she were having any other conversation.

Several minutes passed with the three of them locked into this increasingly uncomfortable and seemingly sinister encounter. Randi did her part to act as she would normally but kept her eyes and ears alert for any change of expression or tone. When suddenly Ghost spilled his drink on Alex the young blonde jumped up and began tossing napkins towards Ghost. She didn’t miss the fact that as Ghost was attempting to excuse Alex and himself to the men’s room to clean up that the instructor had used her first name for the second time in the brief encounter. She wasn’t one hundred percent certain what it meant or what had triggered it but she was certain of the fact that she liked when he said it because it made her feel like she was becoming more of a person to him rather than just another initiate; maybe even a friend.

As much as she wanted to make sure Ghost wasn’t outnumbered or left on his own the dark-haired male made it very clear that he wanted to go off alone with Alex. While most of the time she would have said screw that and just gone along anyways Randi was smart enough to catch the hint and even though she hated every minute of it she stayed put as the two departed. When Alex uttered his farewell, she gave him a wave and smiled, “Catch ya around Prince Charming.” Her jade gaze locked onto him for a second longer before shifting between the two as they scurried away towards the men’s bathroom.

While Randi didn’t follow, she did stick around for a few minutes to determine if she could hear any sign of Ghost needing backup. It killed every fiber of her being that Ghost didn’t want her help in this matter but she kept reminding herself that he must be doing this for a reason and he isn’t a puppy in need of her protection. That didn’t make it any less frustrating as she went against every fiber of her being as she walked out of the café. She had to practically force each step she took as her heart and mind yelled at her to turn around and go check on Ghost but the look in his eyes and his tone continued to echo through her memory and she knew she might only cause him more trouble by turning back. “Fuck!” She growled and took an aggressive sip of her coffee. She continued down the street and came to the edge of The Pit and turned right, her feet carrying her towards the edge of The Chasm. With a sigh, Randi sat down at the edge of The Chasm, her arms and chin resting on the iron barrier as she hung her legs over the edge as though tempting the depths below. Taking a breath, the blonde sipped at her coffee as she gazed out into the roaring waters and sharp rocks at the bottom. While many Dauntless came here to jump rather than meet their fate Randi had always just come here to relax ever since she was small. This was her spot and she certainly needed it right now as she replayed the recent events over and over again in her head.

Aviator xayah.

code by Stardust Galaxy






THORN AND FABLE WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW!

 

[WanderLust.]

Maverick Maddox // 18 // Dauntless Born // Instructor
Interacting With: Bella MWMASkairipa

Maverick had begun to make his way through the maze of concrete hallways that made up the dauntless compound. He didn't exactly have a destination in mind, but he did have a purpose. Now that he had... sort of cleared things up with Poppy, it was time to do the same with Bella. He had no idea where she would be though. Unlike the rest of the initiate crowd, he didn't peg her for the type that would be at the tattoo parlor or the bar. So where was she? Maverick was lost in thought as he rounded a corner only to collide into a small frame. Clearly neither of them had been watching where they were going, Maverick's hands instinctively latched around the waist of his companion as gravity began to take hold of the pair, both of them toppling to the ground. Maverick landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him and a curtain of distinctly red hair now covering his face. He let out a groan accompanied by a muffled laugh as he brushed away the familiar red locks. Bella immediately spoke his name, followed by a "hi" and a few nervous stutters.

The instructor couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. This was the same girl he had found himself so enamored with at Blair Avalon's birthday party, and here she was again, ensnaring him with that sweet gaze. It was only when she told him that she had been looking for him that he cocked an eyebrow at her, tilting his head slightly. "Well... you found me." he laughed softly as the pair began to get back to their feet. It was a clumsy tangle of limbs as Bella rolled off of Maverick and the two were finally separated and able to stand up again. Bella asked if they could talk and Maverick paused, what did she want to talk about? Regardless, he nodded, he wasn't busy and he had actually been wanting to talk to her too. Just as he was about to open his mouth he spotted a flash of crimson. "You're bleeding..." Bella's elbow was cut, probably from their clumsy descent onto the concrete. He immediately reached out to take her arm, inspecting the cut. It wasn't too deep or anything, but she should probably get it bandaged up. He was about to suggest that they go to the infirmary when another initiate walked past and Maverick stiffened like a board. They couldn't talk here... too many witnesses. Too many potential prying eyes, too much unwanted attention for an interaction that was strictly forbidden.

"Come on, I'll take you back to my apartment and take a better look at that elbow. We can talk there." He suggested, his grey eyes searching hers for some sort of affirmation before he began leading the way towards the apartment he shared with his brother and Ghost. Caspian was probably out at the bar, and Ghost well... Ghost was hardly ever home anyways. Despite his relative certainty that they wouldn't be spotted, Maverick couldn't help the ice in his veins. The way his stomach dropped at the thought of Ghost or Caspian asking him what Bella was doing at the apartment, what would he say? He was simply bandaging up her elbow.... right? As the pair finally arrived at the apartment, Maverick led the way up the long stairway. "Sorry about the stairs, trust me I know...it's like a work out every time I want to go home." He laughed softly, trying to break whatever tension was hanging in the air.

He fumbled for his keys which were in the pocket of his pants, before finally bringing them to the door and unlocking it. He held a finger to his lips, signaling to Bella not to make a sound as he took a step inside. He silently looked around, his eyes flicking through the rooms, his heart racing. Caspian shoes were gone, Maverick had been right about his older brother being out. The door to Ghost's bedroom was always closed, there was no telling if he was in there or not, but Maverick had a sneaking suspicion that they were alone for the time being. "You can go sit in my room... I'll be right back." He gestured with his chin towards his bedroom, before making his way to the bathroom.

He searched through drawers, leaving quite a mess of things and not bothering to put anything back in its place until he found what he was looking for. A pristine white roll of bandages, just as he was heading out he saw Ghost's towel, hanging perfectly on the wall and resisted the urge to toss it on the floor. There were more pressing matters at hand. He returned to his bedroom and quickly shut the door behind him, his eyes landing on the fiery red head he had so foolishly decided to bring back to his apartment. Silently he sat down on the bed next to her, reaching for her arm as he began the familiar routine of bandaging someone up. "So uh..." he cleared his throat, why did he get this way around her? He never got nervous around girls... "What was it you wanted to talk about?" He asked as he continued wrapping the bandage around her elbow.


​

 

[MWMASkairipa]

~She was powerful, not because she wasn't scared, but because she went on so strongly, despite the fear~
~Atticus~
Bella Quinn | 16 | Transfer Initiate | Amity
The redhead female seemed to have the worst luck in getting hurt just as she was going to talk to Maverick. It seemed like every time they met, he was helping her or patching her up for some injury. She didn't mind the soft attention, but she did feel bad for causing him the trouble. Didn't he ever get sick of taking care of her? She didn't want to seem like she was incapable of caring for her own wellbeing. Perhaps it was in part because of her father, that she felt guilty for getting hurt, for feeling... anything at all for the instructor before her. She'd often been punished for expressing interest in guys. She suspected he was afraid of what she'd tell them. He did well in making sure she knew how disgusting she was for allowing it. The small ginger had always been too humiliated to tell anyone.

Her footfalls were near silent as she followed him, clutching her bleeding elbow, a blush painting her otherwise pale cheeks. She couldn't stop thinking about how it felt to be that close, lying on top of his warm body, no matter how accidental. She wasn't usually one for touch but... every time Maverick gave her that kind of affection, it was soft, gentle. The very brushing of his fingers over her skin sent her heart galloping like a thoroughbred, invisible fingers sending shivers tingling down her spine. How did one even explain this?

The closer they got to his apartment, she could feel her anxiety on the rise. Her instructor asked her to his apartment. She knew he was only trying to help, and... it was probably best if they could talk somewhere private but... she couldn't help but feel nervous. Besides the obvious bandaging of her injury and the need to talk, what else did he have in mind for their time here? It was an irrational fear, perhaps, but one rooted in years of trauma, that caused her to fear being alone with a man. However, something in Mav's eyes, the slight furrow of his brow as he stared at her in concern, assured her that she could trust him.

A small chuckle left her lips as they climbed the stairs. Her short legs had a much harder time keeping up with him, but she didn't complain, just continued to trek after him until he stopped outside the door and pulled out the keys, signaling her to be quiet. She could only guess what could happen is someone caught them. The small ginger did as she was told, moving only when he told her to. Her sapphire gaze took in the apartment with an abundance of curiosity. So this was where he spent his nights, his time when he wasn't acting as an instructor to a bunch of young teens. She never thought she'd be here, much less in such a casual way.

The redhead made her way into his room as instructed, sitting on the bed and folding her legs as she waited quietly for the tall instructor to return. When he did, she rolled up her sleeve some to allow him access, trying not to draw attention to the scars that marked her forearm. It wasn't a time she was proud of, but a part of her, nonetheless. She was grateful that he didn't ask about them, even if she saw the question in his eyes, and the empathy. Part of her was content to sit here in the silence, watching his hands delicately care for her minor injury. He was so gentle with her, it was a foreign concept she hadn't experienced much outside of her mother. She was so caught up in the soft intimacy that she nearly missed his question, and forgot the reason she had sought him out in the first place. "Oh... right... um... I... mostly wanted to apologize... for how I reacted... I-I know you were just trying to help and... care for me... it's... not something I'm particularly used to. I guess I just... panicked a little, when you mentioned your father, and... showed me your scar. I guess I got scared that... you expected me to share my struggles too." The small girl fixed her gaze on her hands in her lap, an index finger absently scratching at a few of the scars on her arm. Was this really a good idea, to share her deepest, darkest secrets with him? What would he do with that information?

The silence grew for a few moments as she mulled over her own conflicting thoughts. Nobody knew of her home life, not even her mother knew what her father did to her on those dark nights, when it stormed, and he thought he was comforting her. All he ever did was make her cry, beg, and retreat into what little innocent space she had left in her mind. Hesitantly, she turned her back to him, gathering up her courage as her hands also gathered her shirt and tugged it from her skin, revealing the vast collection of scars that marred her deceivingly soft skin. "I... I know what it's like... to be at the mercy of someone who claims to love you because... I've experienced it. My father... he... he did things to me... horrible things..." Her already small voice wavered, and she brought a hand up to rub the tears from her eyes. Her father had never liked tears. "I'm so used to people yelling at me and... punishing me for feeling things and other reasons so when you helped me and took care of me at Blair's party I... I didn't know what to do... and then when you found Finn and I after Indira attacked me and you came after me and showed me your scar I just... I freaked out... I get that that's no excuse and I'm... really sorry for just running off like I did I just... I was never given much of a chance to care about someone as deeply as I do you and... when I was given the chance... it surprised me..." Her tear-filled eyes cautiously met his, waiting for him to start laughing or something. He was the first person... really ever, that she'd told about her father's cruel hand. She was taking a chance by trusting him with it, she couldn't take it back.

//Interactions: Maverick WanderLust. ​

 

[xuanan]

GERTRUDE GONZALEZ | DAUNTLESS-BORN INITIATE
interacting with Randi Sanctuaryforall1

The air in the cafe was tense and deadlocked. True grimaced as perspiration culminated on her upper lip and the two gladiators proudly went at it, displaying their egos on shining copper pedestals. She ran her hands down the leathery surface of the chair, digging her fingernails into splintered wood. In other words, she was absolutely invested in the subtle conflict that was unfolding before her eyes. And all before she’d had her tea! How thrilling, how spectacular! It was kind of them to bring such a display to the forefront of her attention, whether they’d intended to have spectators or not. It was only a matter of time before the two brutish hounds snapped. Ghost and Alex. If True had been wearing metal hoops in her ears, the sparks from their hostile stares would have been enough to send a wave of electricity through one ear and out the other, frying her brain in the process. Well, maybe that wasn’t exactly how that worked, but that was how it felt. They were spitting venom at each other solely with their eyeballs when True realized a girl was caught in the crossfire. A slender blonde sat adjacent to where the boys were having their knockout, letting the tension fester and rot until finally, at long last, the drink spilled. The soap opera was just too much for True. She let out an audible gasp, compounded in volume only by Alex hissing Ghost’s code name with bitter distaste. God, was she invested! I must be people-starved to think this is fun, she reminded herself, wincing with feigned disinterest.

Finding an article of clothing to absently adjust with a steely expression, True pretended to be fiddling with her prosthetic leg, attempting to look like she was doing anything but bird-watching. In a match between a falcon and a crow, the crow had won. Alex reigned victorious and Ghost was left to stalk darkly out of the arena, consisting of the two tables cloistered together for four-way seating. The squat stools they had sat on were now drenched in some kind of drink liquid. True felt like she’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to. The blonde lifted her coffee and took an aggressive swig, as if she wished to drag the mug into an alleyway and brutally murder its family before its eyes. A patch of shiny steel peeked through the girl’s expression, a twist of something darker than frustration. Was it rage? True wasn’t close enough to tell, and she realized she was starting to lean over the tabletop to get a better look of the situation, so she reclined in her chair instead, placing her chin innocently in the crook of her palm. She wanted to pursue Ghost, but she knew that no consolation would ever stitch up the wound that Alex had left. That shit must have stung a lot more than the hot drink. Tucked away in the corner of the cafe, True watched Randi rise from her chair and head off.

This was where True’s dilemma began.

Gertrude Gonzalez was typically a forward young woman. With expressive hands and a soft, round mouth that was rarely ever pulled into a frown of displeasure, she was self-assured that she was an approachable human being, most especially in comparison with the razor-sharp eyes of the other Dauntlessborn initiates. Their movements were jagged and accompanied by frequent ill-natured laughs, smirks that didn’t quite escape the corners of their mouths and teased at their eyes. True knew she didn’t look dangerous. She knew she could have easily bellowed to the mysterious girl making her way to who-knows-where, but she didn’t. Each step felt heavy and guilty, followed by a deliberate pause that reminded her that she was, in fact, sneaking up on someone. Did this make her a stalker? That was weird to think about. Well, it wasn’t like she knew the girl. There was just something about her that had piqued True’s interest. She followed Randi through winding streets, through gaping alleyways with rancid trash foaming at the mouth of the cans, through dandelions and weeds-that-were-almost-dandelions which never quite managed to retain their perfect spherical shape for more than a day without being kicked by some sulking Dauntless punk. The cracked pavement below the blonde seemed to become flexible and concave under her in her poisonous march. It left no trail of destruction behind, but every footprint burned a hole six-feet deep into True’s guilty conscience. Her light feet were like a cat’s paws as it approached prey, but her trailing of Randi was not predatory in nature. It was merely one of curiosity. She was not a tiger but a house-cat who had just come across their first alley dog.

With keen interest, True’s eyes widened when Randi took a right turn toward the chasms. Oh, no. No, no, no! Had the previous altercation truly had that much on the line? Was it even about prior events at all?! Poor, poor woman. Something horrible must have happened to this girl to set her mind to such gruesomely dark thoughts. But True would have none of it. If it meant saving a life, she would swallow her guilt about the whole stalking situation. She let out a howl of anguish, a guttural cry filled with wretched human emotion.

“Don’t do it, girl! Suicide is never the ans…”

Oh. The girl sat down at the edge of the chasm, sipping her coffee. The silence grew and grew and grew, filled only by the white noise of the water roaring below. True’s face turned a notch redder with every ticking second until she was the color of a ripened beet.

Well, this was embarrassing.

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

Fable

Mood: Peaceful

Location: Rooftop

Interactions: Dante

It was so hard to stay mad at him and that irked her, but what irked Fable even more so was the smile that crept onto her lips as she listened to him. He always knew what to say in order to calm her down and this time was no different. His remarks about his near-death experience and how brittle his bones were made her all but laugh as she calmed down enough to roll her eyes and give him a smile that showed her emotional cocktail of amusement and defeat. She couldn’t stay mad at him, even if he did give her a near heart attack, it just wasn’t possible when he knew all the right words to take her rage away. It was honestly amazing how he could emotionally disarm her in such a way but it was also refreshing to be with someone whose opinion and feelings she cared enough about to allow them such power over her. It was amazing that they had only known each other since the start of initiation because at this point, he already felt so natural to her, the best friend she never had but always wanted.

As the two of them lay on the warm roof with their fronts facing the sky Fable couldn’t help but give into the peace of it all. Her multi-colored gaze lazily scanned the sky and traced the clouds as she let the gentle heat of the roof beneath her seep into her skin. It was a nice feeling, suddenly all the aches and pains that she had forgotten she had begun to fade away. Tight knots in her back began to loosen up a bit and the feeling was as close to bliss as she had ever experienced. The heat of the roof wasn’t the only thing keeping her warm as she was slightly aware of Dante’s body heat mingling with her own.

Soundlessly she glanced over at the former Erudite boy and noticed how his eyes had begun to droop. It had been a long day for all of them and it made sense that he would be exhausted. Fable figured that she would let him sleep since he clearly needed it and instead of ruining the moment with words, she just returned to watching the sky above. The clouds floated by lazily and some looked similar to shapes and even people if you squinted your eyes or tilted your head just right. Beside her she noticed how Dante’s breathing pattern had changed as she actually managed to fall asleep. She watched the side and fall of his chest as he entered the world of rest and was tempted to join him.

Moving as gently as possible the flame haired girl turned on her side so she was now facing her best friend’s shoulder. Her arm was tucked up under her head to give herself a slight pillow as she curled her knees up a bit. The position was so comfortable that it took only a few seconds after that for her to feel sleep clawing at her eyes. Unable to resist Fable let her eyelids fall closed and was soon dozing off alongside her friend, a nap being exactly what she needed after such a long and stressful day.

jrink

code by Stardust Galaxy

Thorn

Mood: Cheerful

Location: Bar

Interactions: Blair

Thorn watched the emotions dance across Blair’s face as she seemed to have several thoughts quickly rush through her brain at once. Eventually her expression settled upon a small smile that pulled at one corner of her mouth and then the other in a way that Thorn wished he could project in his artwork. It was simple yet beautiful, a flattering look for the young lady despite how simple it may seem. Hearing her ask if he knew how to play poker the young dark-haired man paused for a moment as he processed the question. Yes, he knew the game, but he didn’t truly know how to play. As the thoughts rolled through his head he finally glanced at Blair as he bit his lip ever so slightly and shook his head. “Sorry, I know that must seem pretty lame.” He admitted.

Gambling was a big thing in Dauntless but it wasn’t a past time Thorn was ever really able to get into after seeing how badly it messed his dad and his uncle over when they ended up losing giant sums of cash in one night and all over one bad hand. But with someone like Blair it seemed like it could actually be a fun thing to learn and he doubted that she would make him pay her ridiculous sums of money or favors to work back any debt he owed her when he inevitably failed at the game. Hearing the hint of laughter in her voice as she offered to show him how to play turned the look of embarrassment on his face into a genuine smile. “Sure! Just don’t expect me to be too good at it!” He replied half-jokingly as she pulled him along the short walk towards the bar.

He was a bit relieved when she chose a booth towards the back of the bar. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the other Dauntless but he did know that they all tended to think less of him for his beliefs. In their eyes he was a coward who wanted to flee from the fights and the violence that tended to consume the faction. In Thorn’s heart and mind however, he believed that there was true bravery in being able to avoid the fight and talk peace. It could be a scary thing to be vulnerable enough to open up and negotiate and that wasn’t something that the rest of Dauntless was ready to accept.

As they sat in the booth having ordered their food Thorn watched Blair pick at her sandwich and fries with little interest as he sipped on his drink and occasionally put a nacho chip in his mouth. When she asked how his fear simulation went he began to chew a little slower and met her eyes. He was trying to determine if she really wanted to know or if it was just an attempt to get a conversation going and instantly regretted taking so long to answer when she began apologizing. “Oh no, don’t be sorry.” Thorn assured her with a gentleness to his tone that was matched by the look in his eyes. “I don’t mind, I’m not ashamed,” He added and shrugged as he gave a small smile, “just a little stunned still about what happened.” He admitted.

He watched her pick the pickles off her sandwich as he did his best to think of a way to explain what happened in his fear simulation. “That’s fair. I don’t tend to like the sweet ones, but dill are fine to me.” He replied with a soft laugh laced into his words. “You can have some of my nachos if you want. There is no way I will be able to eat them all.” The young man offered as he slid the platter towards her.

“If you really wanna know what happened in my fear sim I don’t mind telling you.” He admitted after a moment as he chewed on another chip. “It is just really weird and you are probably going to laugh.” He pointed out as he remembered how hard Harper had to keep herself from chuckling when he woke up from the simulation. Taking a deep breath Thorn rested his elbows on the table in front of him and sighed, “We were all eaten by squirrels in it.”

The attitude of the conversation changed the moment a loud crash interrupted them. Thorn flinched a bit at the noise and turned his head to get a better look at what had happened since it occurred on his left side, aka his blind side. His attention quickly returned to Blair however as she looked far paler that she had a few heartbeats prior and she released a shaky breath from between her lips. Her eyes were wide and Thorn could have sworn that he could see her pulse actually throbbing in her neck as she seemed to have an almost violent reaction to the noise. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked and almost reached out to help calm her but thought better of it and returned his hand to his lap. Hearing her stuttering excuse Thorn’s gaze softened with understanding as she blushed and pushed her hair out of her face. “I think anyone would be after facing a fear simulation. You don’t have to talk about yours if you don’t want to but you also don’t have to hide how it made you feel either. I’m the last person to judge anyone around here.” He assured her with an adorable and genuine smile painted upon his lips.

WanderLust.

code by Stardust Galaxy

 

[Nerdy.]

Charlotte "Charlie" Stark || 20 || Medic || Dauntlessborn

Charlie sighed softly at Jaxoms keen perception and offer for food. The medic didn't have any good reason to turn him down, and she had also been enjoying his company and conversation a lot more than she might have assumed she would. She mulled it over in her mind, she was obviously hungry, but those nerves, those anxious little worms in her stomach always ate away at her appetite. Yet... She smiled. "I'd love that." She replied, walking back over to Jaxom and buttoning up her green jacket that she wore, moving her dark waves out of the way so that they didn't get stuck in the button holes. She smiled again at Jaxom, hoping he was having as much fun as she was, he seemed to be, and he seemed candid enough to be saying what he meant, well... he was from Candor wasn't he? What was to be expected but a good honest answer from such a man as him. Charile didn't think of herself as a dishonest person, of course she held secrets, and she did lie to protect and help others, but she didn't think of herself as dishonest. Yet in contrast to the faction of Candor she imagined she would seem very deceptive. Which was an interesting though to think about.
Charlie and Jaxom began to walk, Charlie left the infirmary open in case anybody needed some crucial medical supplies from the infirmary and required first aid. Although she was the medic for initiation, her job technically was for when training was in session and for a little while after. After that, well she wasn't technically everybody's medic. Yet Charlie loved her job too much to ever really put it down, if she were to stumble across someone who was hurt she would go into medic mode without a second thought.
The walk was pleasant enough, Jaxom and Charlie spoke a little about his family again, as she had been curious about them, but then he put the question back towards her.

"My family?" Charlie sounded surprised, as if she hadn't thought he would ask. She didn't know why she was so surprised, it was a fair enough question to ask in return. She chewed on her bottom lip a little bit as she thought about the question. "Well... obviously you've met my sister, Aubrey, so I doubt I need to explain her or how she is to you. Though if you wanted to know more about her you'd be better off asking Finn, or her other friends like Blair, Poppy and Randi." Charlie chuckled, thinking about her sister, even if Jaxom had not had the chance to really know Aubrey, Aubrey was loud and obnoxious to a T, and she was easy to know without ever being introduced to her. "Then there's my mother, Sasha.... She's a tattoo artist here, so you might have seen her around, she has blonde hair like Aubrey, but it's shorter than mine, she has blue eyes, like Aubrey, but she's not quite as tall, like me. She's beautiful, and has a gorgeous smile. When Henry... our father... died, she was the one who brought up Aubrey and me. Henry died ten years ago, from a sickness that washed through Dauntless, you know Chris? His mother died from that same sickness." Charlie's voice cracked slightly and she swallowed, her hand shaking slightly as she remembered those difficult times. She of course, did not mention anything about Jeremy. Nobody was allowed to ever know that. Ghost knew, and Caspian knew, and that was it. "Henry was from Erudite, but he loved Dauntless life. He became an instructor and a medic for Dauntless, he used to teach me both how to fight, but mostly how to think and read and learn. He was always reading to me and giving me things to read for myself. Poor Aubrey was only six when he died, so she didn't know him so well, she remembers him fondly though." She smiled as she thought about her family, and stopped talking after that, she felt almost out of breath from the amount she had said, she wasn't always that talkative, but it did seem to be that one enjoyed talking of their family.

Charlie and Jaxom arrived in the cafeteria. Although many Dauntless loved the bars and rowdy cafes and restaurants that dotted the Dauntless area, Charlie enjoyed the cafeteria or the smaller and lesser known cafes. The cafeteria was large and open, it didn't feel cramped or without an escape. It had enough people to not feel like your alone, but not so many that you felt crowded or overwhelmed. The noise level was only awful right when all the initiates and older teenagers came for their lunches and dinners, at this time of the day though, when Jaxom and Charlie walked in, there was just a dozen or so people scattered in the room. As usual, there was a buffet style area in the middle where you could make your own meal from a variety of food. Mostly meat and carbs, but there were sweet things, and occasional salad ingredients also. Charlie and Jaxom walked over and she handed one of the plates to Jaxom as they got their food. "The cafeteria is a nice place to go to, I think, it's not too loud and it has an open and comfortable atmosphere to it. It may not be so exciting or enjoyable but I like it. Plus it's not as expensive as going to a bar." She laughed, as she placed soem food on her plate. She knew she was hungry, and didn't want to seem like a depressed teenager, so she put actual food on her plate for once. She grabbed a cheese croissant, a small bowl of pumpkin soup with a bun to dip in, and some carrot and cucumber sticks. Once Jaxom had grabbed his own food, she moved to a table and the two of them sat down. She started by popping a cucumber stick in her mouth and enjoying as the watery flavour exploded and washed down her throat. Oh food was good sometimes. She smiled at Jaxom, as she started on her croissant.

Interacting with: Jaxom Wolfiee

Aubrey Amber Stark || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn

Aubrey smiled at Finn's words, although she was embarrassed for bringing up Julian, his words brought her much comfort and she was happy she could count on him. His warmth when his hand was on her back made her shiver happily and she wished he hadn't dropped it from her back. She struggled to concentrate on anything however, her mind flitting from thought to thought. Charlie and her abuser/lover, Jeremy talking to Aubrey of all people and offering her a place on Dauntless leadership if she did this, Finn and all her feelings for him - the ones she refused to admit - and of course initiation in general... Not to mention the fear simulations and Maverick appearing out of nowhere only to barely give Aubrey a second glance. It was like Maverick was besotted with something, Aubrey had no idea what it would be, but she knew he was never going to be close to her like he used to be. But that was okay, she'd lived this long without him, and he was the one who ran away for some reason, not her. She hadn't run away, and she wouldn't. I don't run from my problems, I run over them. She thought to herself.
Finn seemed jumpy beside her, and that made Aubrey nervous, he seemed to be checking over his shoulder so much that she thought there must be something or someone there following them, but any time her curiosity got the better of her to go look, there was nothing there. Every sound seemed like a loud bang, and every step closer to her house felt heavier and heavier. This was it, sneaking into her sisters room to find any evidence of this lover and abuser. Eventually Aubrey and Finn stood in front of the door and Aubrey took a deep breath. "Well... let's go." She said, and unlocked the door, stepping inside. She waited for Finn to come in, checked the surrounding area, and then closed the door, locking it behind her. She looked at Finn and placed a finger over her mouth, showing him that she wanted him to be quiet. He nodded, eyes wide and full of so many emotions, probably mirroring her own. Aubrey was filled with excitement, apprehension, fear, anger and curiosity. She tip toed towards the door that lead to the hall and opened it, she listened for a second and kept going, eventually arriving at Charlie's door. She placed her ear ever so gently onto the door and listened. Was that a noise? No... Maybe? She couldn't tell, but it sounded very quiet. She took a deep breath and put up one finger. Then two. Then three! And she opened the door, Finn and Aubrey rushing into the room.

What Aubrey hadn't anticipated, was for her foot to catch in the carpet, she gulped in a large amount of air and grabbed Finn, causing him to stumble and tumble down onto the fluffy carpet with her. She instinctively giggled as her landed on top of her, his hands nearly pinning her to the carpet, his body straddling hers. He blushed, and she blushed, and he quickly mumbled an apology mixed with a laugh and got up. Aubrey giggled and rolled over, freezing though as she did so. "Finn!!!!" She hissed, and pointed at the edge of the carpet. Although the carpet was well cleaned, it was obviously cleaned often, and the room was tidy. Aubrey could see a distinctive blood splot on the edge of the carpet, almost hidden in the design. "That's blood..." She breathed out, crawling to her knees then standing up. She was now focused, and serious. "Okay, I think it would be rude for you to check her clothing drawers... so maybe you check anything that isn't clothes or bathroom?" She suggested, Finn nodded. Aubrey clicked her neck as she went for Charlie's clothing drawers and wardrobe. She looked through each drawer meticulously, replacing clothes as closely to how they had been folded and placed as she could. Nothing seemed out of place until she got to a certain shirt that was balled up and thrown in the dark corner of Charlie's wardrobe. "Finn!!! Check this out..." Finn ran over, and Aubrey lifted up the shirt. It was a fairly plain shirt, but it was clear that one of the sleeves was torn from something, and had a large blood stain on it. "This looks bad! What.. how.. when.." Aubrey bit the inside of her cheek as she wondered in her head about whether she'd remembered Charlie talking about having some sort of accident or injury with her arm. "Finn, when you saw Charlie last did you see this? Charlie was wearing a jacket last I saw so it would have covered her arm. We should keep an eye on it. Here I"ll take a pic, you hold it up." Aubrey grabbed her phone, giving the shirt to Finn, she zoomed up on the sleeve and took a photo, before zooming up on Finn's face and also taking a photo, chuckling to herself as she put the phone down, took the shirt from Finn and balled it up again, throwing into that same corner that she'd found it in.

"oh look!" Aubrey exclaimed, grabbing the red dress that Charlie wore from the wardrobe and holding it up to her body. "This used to be mine! I gave it to Charlie to wear at the visiting day party, she looked amazing! Sorta made me jealous that I gave her the dress, I think she looked better in it than I do!" Aubrey spun around, pretending she was wearing the dress on, and sighed. She hoped that Finn would compliment her there, but she knew that was foolish. She should be confident enough to not need such compliments. They were nice though. Aubrey put the dress back and shut the wardrobe. So far she hadn't found anything except evidence that at some point Charlie HAD injured herself, or had been injured by something. Nothing substantial though. She looked at Finn, raising her eyebrow to ask if he had found anything. "Shall we check the bathroom together?" She asked, and he nodded. They walked to the bathroom and began to look around. Aubrey DID feel guilty about all of this, and her skin crawled, wondering if Charlie would walk in on her and Finn sneaking around her room. Nothing seemed off in the bathroom until Finn pointed Aubrey to a discarded piece of fabric or tissue that was hiding behind the bin, obviously Charlie had missed the bin. It was covered with blood, old though, not recent. Aubrey sighed. "Oh Charlie, what has happened to you?" She sniffed sadly, why can't you talk to me? She thought to herself. She sighed, and looked into the mirror, catching eyes with Finn, who was also looking into the mirror. The two of them giggled and yet they didn't break eye contact. His eyes were so beautiful, really. Her favorite eyes. She smiled. Did they look cute together in the mirror? Her mind began to play with the idea. Aubrey quickly found herself imagining things, Finn's arms around her, his nose burying in her neck, the feeling of his breath on her neck... Get a HOLD of yourself Aubrey! This is not what you're meant to do! Stop thinking this way. He's... He's your bestfriend. Nothing.. nothing more... Right? Yes of course! You can't afford to love him like that. You don't. You are best friends. Aubrey bit her lip and looked at Finn. "We should probably go. I don't think we will find anything more here... d-don't you think?" She stuttered, her heart beating fast as she stared at him. Stop it. Stop it now.

interacting with: Finn Baratheon

Christian "Chris" Parks || 16 || Initiate || Dauntlessborn

Chris had had a fairly boring afternoon. Getting sick during fear simulations was never fun, and on hindsight his fear of loud bangs was rather embarrassing. He didn't quite want to tell anyone that his fear simulation had consisted of balloons being popped. So after having a nap in the dormitory, and being slightly woken by Bella and Night when they had come in, he had drifted in and out of a restless sleep. Eventually he got sick of that, and got up, moving out of the dorm to hopefully find Blair. He hadn't really seen her since the fear simulation, and he was worried about her. She had gone in with Ghost and that made Chris VERY nervous. Chris had some, no... a lot of anger towards Ghost now. Thanks to that good for nothing bastard, Chris now had an addiction that was going to kill him. He felt mostly anger, but also... Chris felt a lot of guilt and sadness towards Blair. His love of his life would now not live a full long life with him, and had to live with a suffering addict rather than the Chris that he wanted to be. He cursed the day that Ghost had ever given him lull. He was confused to why Ghost had so willingly and happily done it, then given him that overdose. Well... Who knew, Chris certainly had no idea.

He wondered around the compound, occasionally he saw others. He managed to catch a glimpse of an initiate or instructor here or there, but mostly he wasn't seeing anyone. He noticed Randi and True were at the chasm, but wasn't quite in the mood for too much company. He really just wanted to find Blair, yet he seemed to be unable to do so. The Dauntless compound was big, and it was possible she had gone out too. As Chris walked, he saw a certain red haired girl walking inside from outside. That was... Bella, if he remembered correctly. He didn't know her well, or at all, but he had seen her a bit. She was quite vibrant in terms of colour, however he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her speak though, so he knew nothing of her, he only knew her name from someone calling it out at some point.
He did not follow Bella, instead her walked the way she had come from, maybe Blair was out there.
She wasn't.

However, Chris noticed Night, another person he hadn't really had much time to get to know, standing outside where Bella had obviously come from. Having nothing better to do, and being about as bored as one could get, and feeling a little irritated about the day in general. He walked up, and when Night noticed him, Chris nodded his head somewhat politely. "Hi." He said, as he stopped, his blonde hair now bouncing slightly in the wind, and his blue grey eyes looking over Night. Not in a rude way, but Chris was genuinely just a tad curious. "I'm Chris. You're Night? Right?" He asked, putting out his hand to shake, and shaking Night's hand firmly, before looking around. "This may seem rude, but have you seen Blair anywhere? I've been looking for her and can't find her." When Night shook his head and said no, Chris nodded, that was fine, he hadn't really expected him to have seen her. He sighed. "Yeah I didn't think so, thanks anyway though. I'm sure she'll turn up eventually." A small silence fell over the two and Chris looked around. "There's not that much to do out here, were you doing something before I came and interrupted? I can go back for searching for my girlfriend, but frankly I'm about ready to just give up." Chris looked at Night and recalled that he was from abnegation. That place was quite foreign to Chris. "You're from Abnegation yes? Hm.. I know nothing of that place. My dad was from Erudite and my mum from Dauntless." Chris shrugged. "The only thing I know about Abnegation is that people call them stiffs, and they wear a lot of grey."

Interacting with: Night paralyzed

 

[Aviator]

Ghost // Male // Age 18 // Training Instructor // Erudite to Dauntless
​

Alex Young was in his fear simulation for so long that the question wasn’t so much when he would wake up but if. Which wouldn’t have necessarily been a bad thing, if not for Alex’s father’s endlessly resourceful methods of pulling strings. Still, Alex wouldn’t have been the first teenager to suffer a heart attack after failing to calm his heartbeat and respiration for a prolonged period. Time ticked by. Boredom was one of the last things Ghost would have expected to feel during a private viewing of his archnemesis’s worst fears, but after ten minutes of Alex going around in circles, crying and pleading and making minimal progress, Ghost’s fingers itched for his deck of cards. He was momentarily surprised when his fingers closed on empty air, then remembered that he had slipped the deck into Blair’s waistband in place of the handgun he’d taken from her. Fifteen minutes passed, and unease was prickling across his skin. Ghost had meant to give Alex a scare, quite possibly the worst of his life, but he hadn’t meant to kill Alex.
Ghost’s mind was whipping into a storm, assembling a list of possible courses of action if Alex really did drop dead, when Alex’s unconscious form shuddered. Dark lines that Ghost was surprised to realize were veins pulsed furiously beneath his skin, and Alex’s back arched against the chair. Ghost shot out of his seat, prepared for the worst, when suddenly the harsh grating of Alex’s breathing exploded into a cry of fright. His eyelashes trembled furiously before finally springing open. Ghost’s shoulders loosened with relief. Alex folded in on himself as if he had just received a sucker punch to the stomach, hovering at the very edge of his seat with elbows braced on his knees.
Grateful that he wouldn’t have to spend his afternoon disposing of a body, Ghost composed himself from where he was awkwardly standing beside his own chair. Remembering how Alex had attacked him at the Visiting Day party, Ghost made no move to sit down again, not wanting to be caught off guard if Alex lashed out in a repeat performance. Instead, he stepped behind the chair and calmly folded his hands over its back. It would probably be best to keep something between Alex and himself until the brat calmed down. If Alex ever calmed down. Right now he was making little keening noises to himself and rocking back and forth despondently, his eyes empty.
“You tell your father that the next time he wants a chat with me, to get off his fucking high horse and do it himself,” seethed Ghost in a voice that was tempered steel. Alex’s head snapped up, eyes ballooned wide as if he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone, and it was no ordinary nightmare he’d woken from. “I don’t deal with messenger boys.” And Alex said nothing in reply. He just breathed and stared at Ghost, kept staring until his haunted expression hardened into something else. Something rabid and bloodthirsty. Alex’s eyes were twin pools of black oil, gleaming in the fluorescent lights, ready to ignite. Ghost caught a reflection of the basil green of his coat in their bottomless depths. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Alex’s muscles bunched together and he propelled himself out of his chair, lunging for Ghost with a cry that split the air like a crack of lightning.
Alex was little more than a blur as he veered around Ghost’s chair so that there was nothing between them. Ghost was surprised that a pampered Erudite dandy could move so dazzlingly quickly. He glanced at the chair but made up his mind not to duck around it to the other side. If Alex insisted on a fight, then the sooner they got this over, the better. His lips curled back in a snarl, Alex raced toward Ghost, one arm cocked back to swing with. Ghost was practiced at reading his opponents’ tells at a poker table, and with one sweep of his eyes, he gauged the placement of Alex’s feet, the angle of his body, and determined the rough trajectory the punch would take. He spun away from the hit, the folds of his trench coat flaring out around his waist. A spike of adrenaline surged through Ghost, and he ducked away from the next blow mostly on intuition, barely glimpsing it before it was sailing toward him. Mad as a cat in a downpour, Alex roared his rage and flung himself at Ghost again.
Suddenly the edges of Alex’s form flickered, and Ghost was no longer looking at a thin, dark-haired boy, but one with shaggy blond waves and rippling muscles. The testing room melted away. Replacing it was a narrow, foul-smelling alleyway littered with shards of broken glass. Shadowy columns loomed up on either side of him—two other boys with indiscriminate features, clamping down on Ghost’s arms with enough pressure to send tingles of numbness lancing through them. A stream of wetness trickled down his face, but he was powerless to wipe it away. The muscular blond boy wheeled back to hit him again, and the air was snatched from Ghost’s lungs. Drex.
A fireball of pain erupted as Alex’s fist smashed into Ghost’s chest. The gray walls and wooden cabinets of the testing room reappeared around him, and he staggered back beneath the force of the blow until his spine smacked into a wall. For a moment, he pressed his hand to his chest, trying to remember how to breathe. But as Drex had reminded him, Ghost had been hit much harder than that before. Alex’s face twisted with sadistic glee, and he quickly covered the distance between Ghost and himself, intent on finishing what he had started. Ghost shook his head to clear it, then threw himself away from the wall and stood his ground. This time when Alex swung, Ghost neatly sidestepped, pivoting like a dagger on its point. He grabbed Alex’s arm and jerked sharply, letting the taller boy’s momentum carry him forward. Ghost stuck out a foot just as Alex lurched past, and Alex tumbled to the floor. His dark head thudded against the base of a row of cabinets lining the wall, his eyes taking on a glazed, distant cast. Alex tried to scramble to his feet, but they slid out from under him, his chest heaving as he sank back to the floor.
“Stay down.” Ghost wasn’t issuing a command so much as he was offering heartfelt advice, because right now, he needed only the smallest excuse to give Alex a serious thrashing. Ghost clenched his fists to keep them from shaking; Drex appearing out of nowhere had disturbed him far more than he cared to admit. Drex and his cronies were the reason that Ghost froze up, paralyzed with helplessness, every time a Dauntless-born threw themselves at him before he could draw a weapon. He considered himself lucky that enough of his training had kicked in to subdue Alex Young and owed it to the fact that Alex had probably never been in a fight before.
Alex tried to glare up at Ghost, but dazed as he was, the effect was ruined. He started to mutter some barely coherent nonsense about his father, but Ghost cut him off. “Oh please, Alex. Hollow threats aren’t becoming on the heir to an empire. No one will ever take you seriously if you don’t follow through every once in a while. Now.” He crouched down in front of Alex’s crumpled form, as if he were addressing a small child. Russet eyes bored into jet-black ones. Ghost flexed his wrist and flicked out a knife blade that shimmered maliciously as it caught the light. “I'd like to propose a deal between us. Leave the compound right now, and you get to walk out of here feeling whole and righteous. Come back ever again, and I will repeat this conversation with a one-eyed man. Do those terms sound amenable?” Ghost’s voice was bitterly cold and devoid of emotion, scarcely human. If Alex made another move on Randi or on any of Ghost’s other friends, then Ghost would be happy to demonstrate what a followed-through threat looked like.
Alex’s jaw tightened, but he finally wobbled his head in acceptance. “Good,” Ghost said, folding and pocketing the knife. He stood and gestured to the door. “Why don’t you start now and get the hell out of my testing room?”

* * *​

Ghost left some ten minutes after Alex. Contrary to what he had said, the testing room was actually Maverick’s, and if Ghost didn’t straighten it to appear untouched, then Caspian’s brother might start to suspect things. Luckily for Ghost, he had enough experience breaking into and entering houses that he had an expert memory for rearranging things. By the time he was done, it was only late afternoon, but weeks of minimal sleep were catching up to him swiftly, and Ghost felt desperately exhausted. More than anything, he wanted to return to his apartment and sleep off the storm that had been raging inside him ever since he first spotted Alex at the coffee shop. That was exactly where Ghost was headed, too, his weary feet dragging as he traversed the dim and sloping halls of the compound for what felt like the hundredth time that d—
A skitter of rock along the stretch of corridor behind him sent a chill creeping up his spine. Tired or not, Ghost had spent much of his childhood in Baneberry, where a single lapse in vigilance could result in your dead body becoming fish food. And before then, he and his parents had been practically Erudite royalty; assassination or kidnapping attempts were real possibilities he’d been prepared for since birth. Ghost’s senses prickled to alertness, but he tamped down the instinct to turn around. That was the last thing you did when you suspected you were being followed. Despite the possible danger, he couldn’t help but admire Alex’s savviness. Only a few minutes had elapsed since he and Ghost had established their “deal,” and it appeared as though Alex might already have thugs hot on Ghost’s trail. That was impeccable timing, even for one with Alex’s limitless resources.
Seconds later, Ghost heard the faintest scuff of shoes on stone, roughly the same distance behind him as the first time. Yes, someone was definitely following him. To confirm his suspicions, he rummaged through his coat for his phone, angling the panel of black glass just over his shoulder so that he caught a glimpse of a walking silhouette behind him, at the other end of the carved-rock corridor. Ghost’s pulse ticked up a notch. The Youngs would only ever send professionals to do their dirty work, meaning that he would have little chance against the assassin in a fair fight, if that was the person’s goal. Ghost would have to take them by surprise. Careful to maintain a leisurely pace, he strolled to the next corner and rounded it. He stopped, fingering the same knife that he had used to threaten Alex Young and waited, his back pressed flat against the wall.
Ghost held his breath as the footfalls crescendoed, his muscles rigid with anticipation, eyes locked on the stranger’s approaching shadow. Around the corner came a flicker of motion. Ghost exploded forward, barreling into his assailant. A shrill yelp of surprise sounded next to his ear, causing him to flinch. But he did not stop until the assassin was driven up against a wall, Ghost pinning them by their shoulders, his blade caressing their throat. With their two faces only inches apart, he blinked in shock at the girl. It wasn’t her gender that surprised him—Ghost had gotten his ass kicked by enough girls to know that some of them could fight just as well as any man—but the fact that he recognized her. An oval-shaped face gaped at him in surprise, pencil-thin eyebrows inching up high on a porcelain forehead framed by long raven locks. This was no assassin. Ghost’s surprise melted into sweet relief as he released her, stepped back, and slid his knife back up his sleeve.
“Miss Lycon,” he said with unflappable calmness, as if holding knives to others’ throats were as common a greeting as shaking hands. Ghost tilted his head onto one hand, elbow propped on the opposite palm, gazing at Poppy pensively and trying to parse out the meaning of her presence for himself. He doubted he would get a straight answer from her if he asked. “You should either learn to sneak properly or give it up altogether, because doing a half-assed job of it is a sure way to get a cherry smile engraved on your neck. I appreciate the test to my alertness, but somehow I don’t think that was your intent in following me. Now: how can I help you?”