when the flood calls you have no home, you have no walls [Closed]

[treadswater]

WHO: Annie Cresta
WHERE: #House 57
WHEN: 2nd, 3rd and 6th July
OPEN TO: Finnick Odair, Beverly Crusher, Natasha Romanoff and Percival Graves
NOTES: Most starters in the comments
WARNINGS: Anxiety - disordered thinking, intrusive thoughts, etc. Potential panic-attack, discussion of Panem.

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2nd July | Finnick Odair

She has to watch.

There's no question of it in her mind, not this. She has to watch. Hearing also helps but trees muffle things, buildings muffle things. Water muffles water, so the rain might mask the sound of the approaching deluge.

There might not be a flood. She can appreciate this. She can. There wasn't a flood last time. But last time she could run and now she's hampered, tied down by the birds and the weather. It's raining. Raining makes it worse. It never rained in her arena, never had to, but here there is mud, more buildings, a river half-dried out and what if things died? Roots no longer holding the ground together? Except, no, it wasn't a drought, it was just hot, but the waterfall came from somewhere and the water had dried up, it hadn't been hot enough or long enough for it to just be the weather, so something was blocking the flow of water. And now it's raining, after an earthquake. Water builds and builds, water has weight, water is strong.

So Annie watches. Uselessly. She can't see the river from here, not really. She's sitting in the bedroom she and Finnick have claimed, sitting on a chair with her arms folded on the windowsill and she's watching.

She can't move. No, not even to make a trap, which she thought about, because Peeta Mellark is here. He arrived last night, when she was bad. Finnick's call. Finnick wouldn't make a bad call, he wouldn't, but she doesn't really know Peeta and she has her back to the door. Open door. Closed would muffle things. Open means she can listen to the creaks of the floorboards but she can't turn around because she has to watch. If she leaves, something might happen. The flood might come. It doesn't matter that she's been sitting here so long, she needs to go pee, she has to watch.

So Annie sits and watches and tries to pay attention to every tiny sound both inside and out.

Comments

3rd July, Afternoon | Beverly Crusher

[treadswater]

It's quieter outside. No walls connecting to any roofs except from where she sits, on the outside, and the sounds can escape. They aren't caught, captured, bouncing and amplifying until they drown out everything else. The air is clearer, cleaner, the rain washing away all the dust and eat. She's outside, sitting on the steps, watching the rain and her birds. Some of them are on the front porch with her, settling down on the wooden planks of their shelter (particularly the peafowl), but others (most of the geese) are out in the rain, nosing around the grass. It's nice, watching them. She can breathe, calm down. They are at peace and there's something very soothing about that.

She's not sure how long she spends out there, sitting on the steps. Time is difficult, has been difficult since the first earthquake. She's like a buoy, tied in place but bobbing this way and that with the waves, unable to control anything or do anything except simply be. A little while, she thinks. Maybe. She's brought back to herself by the sight of a woman, walking down the road.

The house that Annie and Finnick have claimed is at the end of their particular road; to get it to, either people are coming back from the forest or wanting to get here. Annie squints, watching. Waiting. Trying to puzzle it out.

Oh. She knows the woman. Nice, spoke of ice-cream, but she can't remember her name. The geese honk a bit, the casual overtones that can turn into a warning if the passerby insists on coming closer, and Annie is sure she should do... something. Call out. Maybe apologise for her birds?

She doesn't.

She just watches, and waits for the woman (B something, wasn't it? Be, bee) to make her move.

[ethnobotany]

Beverly is here to check on Annie and Finnick, honestly. The earthquake had been disorienting for her, but she can imagine for some people it was terrifying. There have been injuries, ones she's been tending to. Afterwards, she's taken to searching for the people she knows, in any capacity, in an effort to make sure that everyone is all right. Rain or not, she's concerned and she won't stop until she's sure that she's done all she can. She'll have to change and get dry fairly soon, but she won't catch cold just for this.

So that's why she's walking down the lane to Annie and Finnick's. She doesn't step into the fence just yet, preferring to stop on the edge to wait for either an invitation or a go away sign from Annie, but she does sort of lean on it a bit as she offers a smile at the girl on the porch.

"Hi, Annie," she calls. "I wanted to see how you and Finnick were doing. It's been a while since we last talked."

[treadswater]

Beverly. That's her name. Kind eyes, too. It's kind of her to come all this way, in the rain. But water seeps in and medicine can be hard to get if you aren't beloved of the sponsors. She knows this arena is strange, has different rules, but there are similarities. The boxes, after all.

"We're still here," Annie manages. Her tongue feels heavy, as do her eyelids and her thoughts. Woozy, drugged, tired. It's exhausting when she's this crazy; another reason to hate it.

She doesn't say Peeta's here. Need to know, that. Habits.

"You're all right?"

[ethnobotany]

Kind or not, Beverly would much rather make sure of everyone's relative safety ― no one will ever be truly safe here, but they can manage relative ― than sit around and wait out the rain. It's not like hail. It won't kill her. Might make her sick after a while, but won't kill her.

She'll just have to go dry off right after this.

"You and your birds," she offers with a warm smile. "They're pretty protective, aren't they?" They seem to be, but at least they aren't trying to chase her off.

She takes a deep breath at the question and lets it out slowly. The best answer is that yeah, she's fine, but it's so much more complicated than that these days. "I'm fine, personally. A little worried about everyone else, but fine. I guess life here is never dull. It's not exactly the good kind of interesting, though."

[treadswater]

"They think I'm their momma." It's a said a faint smile, more an implication of an expression than the thing itself. "And I guess this is their home. Geese are like that."

Home. It's a strange word to say, in reference to this place. It feels heavy on her tongue. An anchor. But the only people who think anchors are only good things are those who've never been on the water proper. Anchors can sink a boat just as much as save it. If things go wrong. Things can do that, go wrong.

"Same with Star, and the other, um. Peabirds."

But no, no Annie, Beverly's talking about other things now. She has to focus.

"Did anyone die?"

[ethnobotany]

Beverly's lips curl upwards into a smile. "They like you. Probably because you've been taking care of them. I think a lot of people and animals do that. They latch onto friendly faces and protection." That's been her experience time and again anyway.

"They're all very lovely. I can see you've been doing a good job with them."

She might not be an expert on birds, but she can definitely see that much.

"Not that I know of," she says, in answer to the question. "There were a lot of injuries, but no fatalities. I'll take it. I don't think I could handle a death right now."

[treadswater]

Annie looks at Beverly for a long time, brows creased and expression faintly puzzled. She's thinking. The words are echoing around her head, latch onto friendly faces and protection. She thinks that Beverly might as well be describing herself, how she feels towards her birds, as much as the birds towards her.

"We're tryin'," she says. "We know fish more, but birds are okay."

As if knowing she's being talked about, Aloft lifts her head from where she's been tucked into a small ball of goose and nuzzles at Annie's elbow. The gesture is demanding: pet me, human, pet me.

Annie does. She's well-trained.

"No deaths? Oh. That's. That's good?"

Yes, yes, Beverly said she couldn't handle a death, so it's a good thing. But she thinks about Gamemakers, and worries.

[ethnobotany]

They're darling birds, especially the one that wants so much attention. It reminds Beverly of a cat and she finds herself wanting one again. She hasn't had the chance, but she's always loved cats. Geese are another thing entirely and she thinks Annie and Finnick might have more bravery than she does on that score.

Something about Annie seems a little different, though. Like she's been shaken a bit and by something. Though why might be hard to say. The what seems obvious. Earthquakes aren't easy for anyone. Some more than others.

Instead of pointing it out, Beverly tries to work the conversation naturally and let Annie take whatever solace and comfort she can. "It's very good. Otherwise... I'd have to figure out what they do here and everywhere is different." She knows what Starfleet would do, but each of these people seems to come from different places and cultures, so there's no telling what might be right to do.

"Do you keep fish or just have a lot of experience with them?"

[treadswater]

It wouldn't occur to Annie that, really, her birds are dangerous. She knows that they are getting big, and that they are territorial, but she's their momma. They love her. They love Finnick. That's all that really matters.

But Annie is a Career, still. It comes across in a number of ways.

As Beverly talks, Annie looks at her. Squints, and squints in blank bafflement. What do people... do? Do with what?

There's something there she could maybe analyse, pull from words and context and stitch together, but it's too hard right now. There's too much fog.

"Keep... fish?" That also is strange, not quite right. "Um. We're fisherfolk? Brought up in District Four, with fishin' with our parents. Trained, too. But it's different, here. Not enough infrastructure."

[ethnobotany]

Fisherfolk. That makes more sense somehow. It sounds more like a society based on fishing and all that comes out of it.

"There's not much infrastructure for a lot of things here," Beverly agrees with a shrug and a slight frown. "It's strange to see it working at all."

But with so many people from differing cultures and backgrounds, it's not all that surprising in the long run. Maybe this village will work better than a lot of Earth history. She hopes so. No tyrannical rule. But mob rule won't be much better, either.

"From fisherfolk to geese-keepers. Nothing like keeping occupied, is there?"

[treadswater]

"It. Could have been bad," Annie agrees, slowly. Reluctantly. She's survived the Games, witnessed all the rest. She's seen her own District descend into rebellion, and what people in power can do. But here, there are... It's not. It's better, so far.

The stronger voices in the group aren't ones to tolerate cruelty or violence. She just hopes that they stick around.

"I'm, um. Being busy is good. It fills in time. But if fish are gonna be farmed more, needs to be like, digging? And pools made, off the river. That kinda infrastructure. What do you do?"

[ethnobotany]

Those suggestions make sense, though they aren't the sort of thing Beverly would think about. It's not in her line of work. "Maybe you could suggest that? I'm sure someone would be able and willing to help with a project like that."

It would give the villagers more control over their own food supply, she thinks. That sort of idea would be a lot of work, but good in the long run.

She doesn't comment much more on the society they're in now or the earthquake, opting to let that fall by the wayside. Instead, she focuses on Annie's question.

"I'm a doctor here. I just patch people up and lecture them until they take care of themselves," she jokes lightly. "I've also been making and keeping a garden in my spare time. I'm something of a botanist on the side."