Annie Cresta | Victor of the 70th Hunger Games (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
treadswater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-07-03 08:14 pm
treadswater) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-07-03 08:14 pm
when the flood calls you have no home, you have no walls [Closed]
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.
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.
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.
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.
no subject
"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."
He is, though, watching her rather than looking out the window as she slowly makes her way across the bedroom. She's stiff and uneasy in her walking, and she knows she needs to move more than this for the sake of her muscles, but he knows that she can't, because she couldn't move, she's been frozen in fear for a long time, and he has to look away from her, back out the window, not because he needs to watch (though he does, he promised her), but because his vision is blurring with tears.
He can't cry. He can't. He needs to be the one holding it together. So he looks away, out the window, staring into the woods for anything that might need attention. He's still watching when he hears Annie's slow steps scuffing on the floor as she returns. It's been a long time, longer than going to the bathroom should take, but he knows enough about these moods to think that could be simply because it's taking time for her to persuade herself to come back.
He knows that feeling himself.
"Hey," he says, when he judges her footsteps are close enough that she's back in the room. "Nothing to report."
no subject
No.
No.
She left and nothing happened, nothing will happen she comes back in. Nothing. Nothing will happen except then there'll be Finnick and the food Finnick brought and the water. The water because suddenly, she's so dreadfully, horribly thirsty.
It's the water which gets her to move. She can't sit, not with the pins and needles still flaring through her muscles, but she can stand and she sip the water and she can not cry. Crying will only make her throat and everything worse.
Silently, carefully, she leans against Finnick's arm and keeps sipping the water down her painful throat.
no subject
It's movement he hears, a resumption of the slow, uneasy steps she takes when her muscles aren't working properly, her old injuries from the Games never quite healed no matter what the Capitol would have anyone believe. He hears it, but he still doesn't turn, not even when he's aware of her presence at his side. He waits, while he hears her bend to pick up something he left, and then he feels the warmth of her side press against his arm. Very slowly, he lifts his hand, careful not to dislodge her, and presses it against the small of her back, his lower arm pressing against her.
"Hey," he says. "Feeling better?"
He suspects the answer will be no, but it's said for something to say.