luca castille || district two || fin

All of life has been one long, drawn out war. So is it any wonder that you've taken on the moniker of the boy who loves violence in any and every form?

Your story is one of pain, of suffering, of perseverance, and that's not counting the long, hard-fought years at the academy. But there's not much of this story known to the world at large, only rumors. And it was inevitable, really, surrounding someone such as yourself. Rumors of scars across a bare back, rumors of a rare talent or perhaps simple favoritism that allowed you to be more than halfway done with the five sections of your curriculum with a whopping four years left on your reaping eligibility. Even rumors of a boy who is or is amongst the best at whatever he does, and one who knows it too.

It's a mask well practiced, an attitude that comes so naturally that most days there's little deceit to be found in its midst. Those not worth your time never see beyond it; those that care to look a little closer may find a gaze that's not quite there all the time, a formation of bags underneath eyes cleverly disguised with a light coat of makeup, a diligent mindset towards each class that borderlines on obsession.

It's sometimes lonely, playing the part of the boy who acts the part of a prodigy and knows it, too. But it's a price worth paying, for secrets aired out bring nothing but pain - to you, and to anyone who dares take a closer look.

It almost happened once. And you'd sworn that it would never come to pass, nor would you ever be so foolish as to allow yourself to get that close ever again.

---

Perhaps it was some sort of twisted irony that Candor was to be your first of the five. You'd of course found yourself naturally drawn towards Dauntless as your first, finding comfort to be found in the familiar pain of physical exertion, but that was not to be.

See, there were terms and conditions surrounding your entry to the academy. You'd start by taking two classes in the areas you were thought to be most lacking, purge the weakness from your body instead of allowing it to fester, and only then would you be allowed to take on your strengths and your passions.

And so perhaps it was cruel fate that the class centered around acceptance was deemed the one most difficult for you to face, for one reason or another. But there is no denying that you were a fast learner - it was, after all, what had placed you within the very walls of the academy in the first place - and from the ashes of a violent, impulsive boy rose the persona that those around you had learned to accept as the norm.

Strengths were reinforced. Weaknesses were fixed, or hidden so very well that no one would ever find them barring you wanting them to. And from there, your mask took shape.

Amity was next. And if Candor was the crafting of the mask, then this class was the act of setting it into polished steel. It was a rough start at first, to be quite honest, for you'd always had a habit of throwing yourself at whatever fight came your way, winning or losing be damned. But again, learning came quick, and you figured out what strings to pull, which signs could result in nothing but pain and which ones meant only certain gain. It was far more delicate than simply smashing headfirst into everything, but it was useful, in the end.

After all, nobody liked a faceless, emotionless asshat. And though you were already quite adept at putting on the cocky persona that at this point had become second nature to you, Amity taught you how to make it human, how to make it real - and how to show just enough vulnerability and compassion to stay grounded to your own self.

It was after the great successes of these two classes that you finally found yourself in Dauntless. But familiarity did not lead directly to simplicity, as you were quick to find out, though it did nothing to take away from enjoyment. Yeah, you had your ass kicked time and time again, one major disadvantage of your youth coming into play as you found yourself competing against those who were older, stronger, tougher, and meaner.

But it was during this year that you hit your growth spurt, several inches of long wiry mass and muscle added to your form. And where in Candor and Amity you'd had to work from the ground up, in Dauntless you already had enough of a foundation that, once the bruises and bumps had become routine, allowed you to keep up with the others in the group.

And then you'd transcend even further beyond. The sting of defeat lessened, and the sweet taste of victory grew common. Spears would trip up the overconfident, swords would dance and sing, knives would juggle and sail and strike all at once. You'd even scored a victory against a boy two years your senior wielding nothing but a whip once, finding the lucky strike on the sword hilt and pulling it from his grasp in one fell swoop.

All the while, there was only one thing in your sights. The one title that thus far had eluded each and every one of the students to try their hand at the academy.

The title of Divergent.

Two classes still lie in your path, as do four more years of blood, sweat, and tears. In Erudite, you know that just as your body was pushed to the limit in Dauntless, so too will your mind in this class. Brains and brawn on their own don't win Games - you'd seen many an overconfident Career die without this knowledge on hand - but together is where the true victory came into play. Another difficult class, but you'd already proven yourself a quick learner and a dogged pursuer of success.

And Abnegation might be the easiest one of them all. It is in this class that the art of the persona is crafted, the public image to get the Capitolites (and more specifically, the ones with money) to love and adore you. Of course, you have no doubt that it will pose its own challenges that you have yet to imagine, but like with Dauntless, you cannot imagine anything but success once you start that course to come your way.

After all, crafting masks is in your blood.

---

That's your story. The story of Luca Castille, the teenage prodigy who exudes swagger from every pore in his body and flaunts his many scars as if they were trophies. But beneath it all is the secrets, the tortured young man who found himself in these walls not through any conscious will, but through pure chance. The scared boy housing secret after damning secret locked in a cage so secure that not even the pack of wolves he's made his own would be able to break in.

What are these secrets, per say? Well now, that would be telling, and there is no fun in that. But there's also no fun in simply signing off without a tantalizing appetizer to begin the trail to discovery.

So what is the clue to the inner workings of your heart, one might ask?

Well, let's just say, when you enter the games at the conclusion of your education, you'll already have an advantage that few others possess. For after all, there will have been absolutely nothing that you could do on your path to victory that you haven't already done before.