(no subject)

[viridescere]

WHO: Oliver Queen
WHERE: along the river in 6I
WHEN: 3 November, afternoon
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: TBD

---

When Oliver was younger, his parents used to refer to this as snow weather. It's just a little above freezing, from what he can tell and there's clouds low and heavy in the sky. It's getting darker earlier in the day; by his reckoning, there's only about eight good hours of sunlight now and there's not much of it to speak of. It reminds him a little bit of home, if Star City were in the middle of the pristine wilderness instead of an industrialized and globalized city.

He's not running today. Instead, he's walking along the river, trying to skip stones across it like he had as a kid. It was good luck to get one all the way across and he remembers his father being really successful at it almost all of the time and Oliver himself failing miserably about 90% of the time. Later, when he'd gotten older, it'd been him teaching Thea how to do the same thing. The stones along the river here are flat and smooth, just right for getting them to skid across the surface.

His first attempt isn't so great. It skips for a moment and sinks down to the bottom with a plop and a splash. His next is better, though, and it skips about halfway across the river before it falls beneath the water. There's a scientific principle to it, he's sure, but that's not what he's interested in right now. Right now, he's wondering what's going on in his city, what he's not able to prevent because he's stuck here.

Oliver closes a hand tight around a stone and curses beneath his breath, frustrated by his impotence in this place. This place holds him here just as much as it holds everyone else and no matter what he's done and what he's capable of, he's held by the same strange power that keeps them all trapped here. He's no better or worse than anyone else. Maybe he has a little edge on some of those who've never had to survive outdoors before but that's it. That's his only advantage in the world.

"Looks like I've turned into just one more madman railing at the sky," he says, frowning deeply. The heavy clouds don't respond.

Comments

[fishermansweater]

"It's worth railing at," Finnick says. He's approaching from the north, on his way back to the village after collecting more of that fibrous plant Moana showed him how to use to make rope. His fingers are cold from picking the plants, and his hands are stuck in the pockets of the now-grubby black coat he'd had in his backpack when he arrived.

He's wishing he'd dressed warmer, maybe in those warm pants Jess had given him, and he'd been thinking dark thoughts at the brooding clouds that look like they could be threatening snow. Even after a winter here, he's still not used to just how cold it gets in this place. He'd always hated winter visits to the Capitol, too.

"Something on your mind other than the weather?"

[viridescere]

Oliver hasn't done much to get to know the people of the village outside of a few faces here and there but he thinks this one would stand out regardless. He's good-looking and has an easy sort of way about him, a charm that makes it easy to imagine divulging a secret when he asks what's on his mind. Oliver shakes his head.

"Just thinking about this place, is all. I can't seem to figure out the motives behind it and everything has a motive. There's nothing that just exists like this. It doesn't make sense."

[fishermansweater]

Finnick's growing slowly more accustomed to the fact that people don't instantly know him and his life story here. Ten years of being one of the most famous people in all of Panem still make it difficult to remember that he's just another villager here, perhaps known for the time he and Annie had spent living in the woods when they first got here, or for the theories he'd had about Gamemakers and arenas, but not for being in the public eye since he was a teenager.

"Come up with anything?" Finnick asks, though he's certain he knows what the answer will be. They've all been thinking about why they're here, who brought them here and how ever since they arrived here. Finnick once had a sense of certainty about it, but that's long gone.

After all, he's wearing a wedding ring, and that would never have been allowed if this place was what he'd been so sure of when he arrived.

[viridescere]

"No, nothing much. Just thinking out loud, unfortunately, and not coming up with much of anything in the process. I didn't even introduce myself, did I?"

It's not Oliver's way to get distracted like that on a small piece of mundane information but something about this place gets under his skin in a way other things haven't lately. He's used to being able to at least puzzle out motives if he can't predict next steps and this is frustrating beyond belief.

"Oliver," he offers, extending a hand to shake.

[fishermansweater]

"'Nothing much' is about the most anyone seems to manage," Finnick says, his voice a strange combination of wry sarcasm and actual sympathy. It's frustrating, for all of the people here who've tried to get out. Not that Finnick has any particular desire to leave this place, because that would mean going back to Panem, where he'd have to go back to pretending not to love his wife, not to have married her.

He reaches across to shake the extended hand of the newly-introduced Oliver.

"I manage to forget more often than I should. Finnick." He tips his head a little to one side. "And no, I don't think this place just exists. It seems planned to me."

He's no longer truly convinced that this place is leading up to forcing them all to turn on each other the way they would in an arena, but there is far too much that's too like Panem to think this place wasn't created by whoever brought them here.

[cleptes]

The last six days had been strange for Bela. She's been counting them ever since she arrived, marking them on a smooth stone she found lying outside her house in case she forgot. Aside from that Bela has mostly kept to herself, heading to the inn for the daily meal before retreating back to her home to make it more livable.

However, remaining isolated would soon become a problem. Bela wasn't stupid - she knew she needed to interact with more people, other than the ones she's already spoken to.

Before all of that she decided to go on a walk to clear her head and figure out the best way to approach her objective. Once she had gotten the information (and help) that she needed Bela would probably be fine to handle things by herself again. That was the hope at least. She also wanted to leave this place, which was probably true for everyone here.

Bela came across the river not long after leaving the village, dressed appropriately for her walk. By dressed appropriately that meant wearing all of the clothes that she was provided with and layering them to maximize the warmth. Bela is also wearing her coat. She wished that she had gloves though.

"Not bad." She comments wryly to the man she found by the river; Bela had watched him toss the stone the first time and stayed to watch the second. She's on his left side, a comfortable enough distance away so that she wouldn't startle him. "Something on your mind?"

[viridescere]

"Other than the dubious talent of rock skipping, you mean?" Oliver says, grinning at the woman who's walked up next to him. He hasn't ever been a particularly open person and it's difficult to share these things, even with someone who is a fellow prisoner, for lack of a better term.

"I've been thinking a little about this place, of all things. It's strange that we'd all wind up here in the middle of nowhere without any rhyme or reason behind it."

It's more than strange. It's insane, even by his own admittedly-higher threshold for such things, and he can't figure out who would take them or why.

[cleptes]

American. It didn't seem to matter where people where people were dragged from. Bela herself was born and raised in England but she had been living in New York city for the past couple of years. She hadn't lost her natural accent though.

Bela just smiles at his first comment, rocking on her heels a little. It seemed rather peaceful to her, the river. She wonders if it would freeze during the cold, winter months.

"I am sure that is a thought shared by many people." She muses. "Myself included. I haven't been in this place for very long, but it's the how I got here that troubles me."

[viridescere]

"The how is something I've been trying to figure out over the last couple weeks. I haven't gotten very far with it, though," Oliver admits. This seems to be the common water-cooler talk around here: how this place works and how to get out. It's something that comes up occasionally between meal times at the Inn or preparing for the snow and while the latter are very practical things, the former is something existential that presses on seemingly-everyone's minds.

"Most of the people here, they're kind of resigned to it in a way. I mean, I think they might still question it but they're also putting in time to survive the long haul. I haven't gotten there yet myself."

[girlwednesday]

"The madman part isn't really any different than any other time," comes Felicity's ever-helpful droll voice from behind him. She's noticed that days when running happens are better days than days when it doesn't. Those days end with moping and more distance than usual. She knows it's not her, that he feels helpless to help people, something he's excelled at for years, and that it bothers him. A lot.

Coming up next to him at the edge of the water, she slides an arm around his waist and watches the water for a moment before bending down to choose a smooth rock of her own. Scientific principle? Yes; the angle of the throw, plus the speed and the timing of the flick of a wrist and...

"Boom," she says with amusement in her voice as the stone skips across the water. "Mic drop."

[viridescere]

Oliver laughs a little and shakes his head. "You always have a way with words. Don't know that I'd say it quite like that but yeah, mic drop."

He picks up another rock and offers it to her, palm open. "Do you want to give it another shot? We could do best two of three. It's just physics, apparently, though I never paid attention in physics when I was in school. I just went with the feel of it over anything else."

Oliver has a feeling that in spite of his practice, Felicity will give him a run for his money considering her first go.

[girlwednesday]

Having gotten him to laugh, Felicity feels like her mission's been accomplished, but she takes the rock from him and tilts her head just a little so he can see that she's about to give him more than just a run for his money. She's going to annihilate him if he gives her the option, simply because there's so much he's good at that she's going to take the opportunities where she can get them. Also? They're not running and she considers it a good day.

"Do you think two of three's a good idea?" She makes a face at him as she says it. "I mean, considering your history with physics, science in general... I mean, your aim is pretty good and you've definitely got skills with your hands," she adds because it makes her feel like the world is on track when he's smiling. "But it's a little unfair, right?"

She's so busy teasing him that she doesn't bother setting up her next throw and after two skips, the rock sinks.

[viridescere]

"See? Over-confidence will get you every time," Oliver says. He takes his next stone and throws it, seeing it skip three times before it sinks. Not much better than Felicity's attempt, to be certain, but only just enough of an edge that he feels like he can gloat a little.

"Where'd you learn how to skip rocks, anyway? Computer camp, I'm assuming? I imagine they have to have some kind of outdoor component since it's camp." Oliver had been to sleepaway camp as a kid but he'd learned horseback riding and polo - not anything functional in the real world.

[scepterschild]

Wanda was working with Clint and her housemates to get ready for the winter. Last year it had snowed several feet and they were preparing for something similar this year. She had started at the treeline by her home and slowly worked her towards the river to look for sticks that were dead and already fallen from the trees. She had a few bunches of sticks tied on her back by the time she spotted Oliver tossing stones across the water.

She remembered him briefly from their first meeting but that meeting didn't tell her anything about him, only that she hadn't seen him since then.

"Sometimes it helps?" Wanda had stepped up behind him though she was still standing a few yards away. "No eager for winter?" She guessed, her expression kinder than the one she wore when she'd been a part of the Avengers. Her year here had tapered her anger some though that was only because there was no one to direct it at.

[viridescere]

"It'll be a hard slog, winter without central heating and street sweepers," Oliver says dryly. It's not something he thinks will break him, by any rate, but he is worried about Felicity and how she'll take it.

"How've you been?" He hasn't forgotten that Wanda had given him food when he'd been hiding in the woods and he thinks she's a good ally to have.

[scepterschild]

"Getting ready for winter." She gestured to the bundle of sticks at her back. "There are more people to keep warm this time around." Wanda was used to the cold and preferred it but she had others to think about.

Her head tilted curiously to the side. She had met Felicity but hadn't mentioned it since Felicity seemed tense to be walking around by herself. "This isn't the city. Will you be alright?" Wanda knew that the fire in the inn was always burning but Oliver didn't seem to be comfortable about others.

[viridescere]

"I've spent plenty of time out in the woods. Maybe not a climate as cold as this one," Oliver admits, "But I've roughed it before. I've roughed it for long periods of time, too. I think I'll be okay."

He gives Wanda another glance, more keen this time. "How much snow does this place usually get in winter?"

[learned_to_die]

With one of his fur-lined cloaks curled tightly around his body, Ned makes his way up the river's edge, an activity he often does in the mid-morning. He makes a habit of checking the traps for any new game that might've wandered in, and sometimes he attempts to skewer some fish in the river itself with a makeshift spear that's little more than a long, sharpened stick. He was unable to get to the traps this particular morning, and so he is making quick work of the traps now.

Most of them have been empty, but he still has a handful more to check.

He hears a peculiar sound as he continues, like hard splashes of water - almost like rocks are being purposefully thrown into it. He has a borrowed blade from the Inn in his hand (used to make the creature's death as quick and painless as possible before bringing it to be dressed and butchered), and his grip on the hilt tightens some as he approaches what appears to be a singular man, tossing rocks at the river, talking to ..

No one.

"Well met," he calls out once he's within ear shot. He glances upwards with a considering look. "I am afraid that no matter how often or how loudly I might speak to them, whomever they might be, they never seem to answer."

[viridescere]

Oliver has the sense that this guy talks to someone different than he does but they do have one thing in common: they're both prisoners here. He dips his head a bit in reverence and returns the greeting.

"Well met," he says, cracking a bit of a smile. "No one ever seems to answer me when I ask them questions about this place but maybe that's by design. If we got answers, maybe we wouldn't be stuck here."

[learned_to_die]

"Oft times, the answers we receive are not the answers we seek, leaving us more perplexed afterwards," Ned replies, sharing another thoughtful glance upwards. He is thinking specifically of the Weirwood sapling he'd received some months ago without warning. He'd spent many hours thinking of his connection to home, to Westeros, to Winterfell. He'd spent even more hours thinking of the fates of his children and loved ones, how much pain lay ahead of them. And then, as if to placate him into silence, the Weirwood had appeared - small, barely more than a twig of white bark and red leaves.

"What questions ail you the most this particular morning?" Ned asks before continuing, "In the purpose of disclosure, I am holding a knife from the Inn; I use it in the event an animal has been caught in one of my family's traps. But I have no intention of using it for any other purpose."

[viridescere]

"I'm not afraid of your knife, I promise," Oliver offers. He wonders why the man would reveal such an obvious tactical advantage until it comes to him - he offers it to let him know that he's not out to surprise him. It's a strange way of communicating in Oliver's estimation but it's not unappreciated.

"I just don't know how we got chosen to be here. Of all the people in the world, we're stuck here and we're captives but there's no reason why we are. It doesn't make sense. I like it when things seem to fit into some kind of logical progression."

[enterprisingheart]

Winter is definitely starting to set in, if Picard is any judge. He's already started to borrow hats from the supplies at the Inn (being bald makes cold temperatures less enjoyable than they might already have been), and given the way the sun is starting to set earlier he can't imagine that it's going to be inclined to be any less cold anytime soon. Which certainly isn't something he'd call particularly appealing, but it's not like there's anything any of them can really do about it either, much though he's certain there are any of a number of people who would prefer to have at least some manner of heating (that doesn't require making fires) in the houses.

Still, cold though it might be, he's not about to let that keep him from getting out and about. Not going to let it keep him from at least getting something done, even if all that turns out to be is talking to someone.

"I wouldn't call it an unreasonable thing to rail at."

In fact, taking it as a stand in for the Observers it strikes him as a perfectly reasonable thing to rail at. It's still not likely to result in any concrete changes to the way things currently are, but that doesn't mean that it might not help, even simply in that it's a way to vent whatever frustrations might happen to be on someone's mind.

[viridescere]

There's something familiar about this man though Oliver has yet to put his finger on it. Maybe it's the familiarity you always get with someone old enough to be a grandfather but there's just something that always pricks him when he passes by Picard and he hasn't put his finger on what it is just yet, why he feels familiar and known.

"It seems to be the topic of choice to rail at, if anyone else's rants are something to judge by. Oliver Queen," he offers, extending a hand to him. He hasn't formally introduced himself to a lot of the village and he's looking to make amends.

[enterprisingheart]

"Jean-Luc Picard," he answers with a nod, as he takes the offered hand. The handshake that follows is firm, but polite, and offered without the slightest trace of hesitation.

"And it makes a certain amount of sense. Especially if one takes it as the next best stand in for the Observers themselves."

Which is certainly not to say that's where the Observers are observing from. For all anyone knows they could be watching invisibly from within the settlements themselves. Admittedly, it's not terribly likely, unless they have somewhere well-hidden where they happen to stay, but it's not something he can rule out entirely. Not without further evidence one way or another, at the very least.

[viridescere]

"Hard to get angry at an invisible being. I guess you could try getting angry at God," Oliver says, shrugging a little, "But in my experience, it's not very satisfying. I would rather get angry at something I can punch."

The trouble with this place is that there isn't anyone linked with the authority to actually put all that blame on and there's only so much satisfaction in survivalism.

"Good to meet you, Jean-Luc. Found anything to do around here that isn't getting angry at the invisible and unsatisfying?"