A Masquerade of Lies

Christina

It's funny how supporting main characters always get written off real fast. The main main characters always get glory - not that I'm jealous or anything; they also get the worst hardships. But they always walk in the spotlight. Those who try too hard to blend into the shadows are also pointed out, people think they deserve more attention, and so they give it. It's like being a middle child. Very demanding, few rewards. We're pushed to the side, forgotten until some author decides to take pity on us and air us out again, using us for a new story. Thank goodness, this is one of those. Nobody's written about me in forever. I was getting bored.

Oh, I just realized I didn't introduce myself. My name is Christina Kravitz (A/N: They don't say her last name in the book, so I went with the actresses's last name), a Dauntless member, genetically damaged, transfer from Candor. As for what was going on up above, well, old habits die hard. In Candor we always spoke our mind, which got pretty tiring sometime, but too bad - we told the truth, we didn't whine - and I'd gotten so used to it for sixteen years of my life that for the next few years, I couldn't snap out of it. Anyways, with that out of the way...

I browsed through the racks of dresses and masks. They had every color combinations, plus different sets relating to different fandoms. There was one dress clearly tagged Hermione, which I assumed was for Hermione Granger, witch extraordinaire. As I thumbed through the black items, I was attracted inexplicably to once certain mask. It was black and lacy, just covering the area around the eyes, with a small black rose on what would be my right.(A/N: See picture above chapter, I'm bad at describing stuff) It was beautiful, and I gravitated towards it without knowing why. Wait a second - gravitated? I was starting to sound like an Athena child! And I was going off on random tangents! Tangents? Lord help me! Moving on, I knew that was the right mask for me. It was like it held a piece of my personality in it. Most people grab their dresses first and then their masks. I did it the other way around. I snatched my mask off the shelves before finding the perfect dress to go with it. The dress was high waisted, the top section tight and shimmering silver evident in the light over the black. A silver braided belt was hung around the waist. The skirt was long and flowy, slightly ruffled and perfect for spinning and dipping. Paired with dangling silver star earrings and silver sandals, I was ready.

You may be wondering what I was getting ready for. And if you weren't before, you were now, because the author's mentioned it. My answer was: the masquerade. An annual ball where book characters from every series could socialize and simply dance the night away. It happened tonight. And I had to be ready. Turns out I was much more right than I thought. I just had to be ready about something else than I'd been thinking about.