Anger was not exactly the term that she would use to equate to what she was feeling on the inside. Certainly not as she peered out against the horizon, surveying all the happy faces while the Amity worked hard to keep the crops, their own version of peace. Tris was not livid nor was she disappointed — she was defeated, in a way that she could not make much sense of. Though the world was moving all around her, it fluttered by in blurred strands of light. She stood numbed, fists curling closed tight before releasing in pure attempt to make gather her rapid unhindered thoughts. It had been barely 24 hours since they fled the heart of what once was Chicago, the ruins of the war, their home. Even with Caleb with her, safe behind Amity headquarters, there was still a sense that she had lost everything. The only glint of hope she could derive came when Four’s eyes met her own, but she was not focused upon him in that bleak moment. In fact, he was not even in her sight, back turned on the camp itself as she peered out along the border of trees, then towards the fence that practically caged them in. She felt like one of the ravens marked upon her collarbone, she yearned to spread her wings and be free. Free from all this uncertainty, all the pain and anguish and despair, free from the responsibility of being who she was — a Divergent. The Divergent that began all this fuss. Without turning around to see who had come her way, she kept her gray irises planted upon the sights of the night sky forming, the sun kissing the horizon goodbye in bright golden and rose hues.
“I’m not very hungry, thank you.” She insisted, before turning just barely to make note of her boyfriend, her confidant…her everything. And yet, all she felt was guilt at the sight of his sweet face. “Sleep won’t help either.” She stubbornly continued, knowing he might suggest it.
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