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WHO: Thorfinn Thorsson
WHERE: The Woods, The Blacksmith, The Boathouse, and House 8.
WHEN:September 14th
OPEN TO:OTA
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open

A: The woods
It was a day, he wasn't really sure which day it was since Fenrir's shakes he had lost track of his days to busy with his tasks. Making more soap, carving bone and a second bit of wood for Kate since he didn't like his the one she asked for turned out despite having given it to her. But when he wasn't working around the house he was out and about. As always his favorite place to be was the woods.

Some days he fell trees when he had an axe, other days he hunted. Days like today he just foraged. Part of it was for survivals sake. The rest was just a pure need to reconnect with nature. He spent so long in the woods trying to buy his freedom back that he felt more right in the woods. He no longer kept his injuries from the day of the quakes covered they were all scabbed over enough for him to no longer care. New scars would come and cover his skin. Things he didn’t give much though to, being blissfully ignorant to things like germs. Such things were not known in his time, and he's never thought about it since arriving in this new land, he lived by what he knew.

Which was part of why he was out, he was looking for herbs. His stomach had been bothering him for a couple days now. He couldn't pin why, but he figured he could find an herb to help ease the pain.

B: Blacksmith
Thorfinn had noticed the building but before today he hadn't ventured to close to it. Just idly looking and passing by. He wasn't sure why today the desire to get closer hit, but it did. He could recall being young and innocent running across the village he was born in 'Father! Father!' he would always call out. Happy to sit and watch Thors try to repair and make things. His father was such a bad blacksmith, but a good man. In Medietas, Thorfinn himself tried to become a blacksmith but a month of learning didn't do a lot for him here.

Stepping up he kept a hand on his pack, the other ran over the door before pushing it open. Disappearing inside the building. It was all different from the smithy in his village. Like everything in this village it was still rather futuristic but, he had the basic idea. He couldn't explain why, but he had the desire to be in the building. Sitting on the floor with his pack beside him he looked around the empty dark building.

C: Porch of House 8
When he finally made his way home he didn’t go right inside he tossed his pack on the porch taking a seat on the steps and pulled up the bit of bone he had been carving the night before. Sitting back against a post he pulled one leg close to his body to prop his arm on, the other stretched out to try and touch the other post, it didn’t work his legs weren't long enough. Yet he remained sitting the same as he shaved away at the bone in his hand. It was comb but this one made of wood, a piece he had been whittling down for awhile. Experimenting with new ways to make things.

He knew he could have gone inside, but he was feeling a bit out of sorts. Sitting on the porch in the cooling air seemed like the thing to do.

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Finnick's not with her. Usually, they stay close. Certainly within earshot. But the earthquake broke their water supply and the river is tainted, so he's left. Gone to find where the people in the village are getting their water form. Other end of the canyon, isn't it?

Yes. Something like that.

She's not with him. She's trying to be more independent. Trying to be useful for more than strategic thought. So she's collecting what few plants she knows for dinner, checking a snare. Shimmying up a tree to see if there are any birds' eggs around.

It's while she's up a tree that she sees movement, and goes very still.

Her clothes are white, but she's rolled around in dirt and mud enough that she hopes it's not too noticeable any more. But her hair, there's nothing she can do about that.

Except go still. Don't move. And maybe the man won't notice her.

Thorfinn had been walking along looking at plants, trying to not think about the things he could feel under his skin. The sound of whispers and sight of things moving just outside of his peripheral vision. These things were different than the other people in the woods. These things came when he didn't sleep enough, when he stressed to much. The dead of his dreams making themselves known to him in the day.

The difference. The dead didn't have ginger hair, the dead didn't breath, or make the smallest of noises. The tracking and hunting of his youth left deep instincts he never knew how to shut off. The way he could tell when a rabbit or snake was near. There were people who could bypass his senses, but, the woman he could tell was in the tree above him. She wasn't one of them, at least he doubted it. Her hair, her hair caught the light just right.

While part of him wanted to ignore her, let her be, he tipped his head at a strange noise. Looking up he pointed to her. "Höggormur!" He called out the word, then remembered Snake's nickname. English English... how did Einar say it. "SNAKE!" He called the word up to the redhead, behind her was a serpent slithing across the branch at her.

It's actually a relief.

Oh, not the man. Not him. Short, heavily muscled, she can see the scars because she's got a sailor's sharp, far-sighted gaze and he walks around the forest as skilled as Katniss Everdeen.

Not even his warning, the first word garbled (she's sure it's garbled, because what did he say?) and the second thickened by accent but understandable.

But the snake.

The snake. All orange like her hair and black, sliding straight for her.

She almost feels like saying finally. Finally. Something that's a direct threat. Finally, something she knows how to deal with.

Slowly, Annie slips off her branch, swings herself down and across to another. She's grown up jumping around decks, balancing on lines and clambering up pots, this is easy. She doesn't panic. She'll be proud of herself, later. She just moves, and hopes the snake doesn't can't won't follow her.

"What's it doing?" she calls out to the man.

Thorfinn can almost see it in the way she moved from branch to branch. The way he used to move from the mast to the deck, running and jumping from one of the ships to the next if need be. To hone his old skills to kill time on long voyages when glaring at a certain old man's head was just to much. Though those days were long gone, those kind of skills are notable.

Who was this ginger haired woman? He knew he had not seen her before.The snake turned when she jumped slithering still towards that same nest she had been after. It wasn't after her but the eggs.

"Nest!" He called up, he could see it. He didn't ask her thoughts, or if she was okay he could see that well enough. Reaching down into his boot he pulled up the knife he favored the shifted his weight tossing the blade up. A noise like dart hitting a dart board could be heard as he managed to catch the snake by its middle to the branch just above. Leaving it wiggling but death would come fast. Of course, now his knife was stuck in the three holding a dying snake above the eggs. Hindsight it wasn't the BEST idea.

It tells her a lot, his throwing of a knife. That he has a knife. That he knows how to use it, hitting a moving living thing. That his instinct and action was to save her, first to call out and then to kill the threat. Save her, not stand back and let the arena kill her.

Not kill her himself, sending that knife into her faster than she could dodge.

Annie swallows, carefully, watching him more than the writhing, dying snake.

"Thank you," she says. Means it, means it with the depth of seeing all seventy-four Hunger Games and exactly what people do to each other there.

Thorfinn didn't expect to be thanked by the girl in the tree. He blinked a little and lifted a hand up to his chest with a sheepish embarrassed smile.

"Not problem. Okay?" He asked after a second, he looked to where the snake had finally finished wiggling, making a face. He shifted his arm, to point to the knife. "Would you mind?" he asked hoping she would understand what he was asking.

"Okay," Annie repeats, then she seems to freeze. He wants the knife back. She pulls the knife free and the (apparently) dead snake will go tumbling free. He'll have both weapon and food.

But he hadn't killed her. A gesture of trust, or of careful positivity. She can return it.

She moistens her lips, nods, and then carefully moves back to the branch. First thing is first, make sure the snake is dead: with a lightening fast move, she grabs the snake behind the head and twists until she hears and feels the crack of the neck breaking.

There. Now it's dead.

Then, carefully, she works the knife loose, and tosses it down to the man. Not throw, she's not aiming at him, she tosses a safe distance so it won't accidentally hit him. The snake falls, but Annie, Annie stays up in the tree.

He saw how she froze making sure he stood perfectly still and his hands were visable. He wasn't certain but something told him that he frightened the poor lady. He didn't want to make it worse so, he did what seemed natural not that the danger was over, he made himself look unassuming...as one can looking like he does.

Thorfinn turns and moves to pull his knife up and slipped it back in place in his boot. He looked to the snake then to her and motioned down. "Would you like? Likely good." He figured it would be a sign of good will to offer her the food, snake was now considered food instead of threat. He could always find something else, he wasn't set on snake.

That gets a nod, but she doesn't come down immediately. First, the nest, her initial target. She empties the contents in her backpack, and then climbs down. As she climbs, she moves around the tree, so that when she jumps lightly to the ground, she's able to keep him in view.

But she's on the ground. And her hand is going into her pack to bring out threes egg, to hold out in offering.

It's a pitiful swap, she knows. But she wants to make the effort.

"I can, I can take half, if you need it?" Annie says. But she's been growing thinner since her time here, she can't help but eye the length of the snake, think of how much it'd be able to feed Finnick as well.

Thorfinn's eyes track her, becuase even if she is a woman the way she moved he could tell she was more than met the eye. He wasn't exactly worried as much as curious and to trained to turn a blind eye to a possible threat. When she lands he takes a step back, still leaving his hands to be seen for her.

He offered her a sweet smile and shook his head. "Thanks much, but no need." He could find uses for eggs, but they were so small it wouldn't be much use with their size. "I find others, please take all." She was in the wild he had never seen her at the inn the few days he goes. He skips the lunches often due to his insistent need to keep busy, and worry for the food supplies. He was used to going hungry so, he was more used to it than most. Plus Arneis' death made him a little kinder to women in general. "I Thorfinn, you?"

She smiles at that, a small, fragile and wary thing, but grateful. It's food. It's food, both eggs and snake, and she gets to keep it. Carefully, trying not to rush, she squats down and pulls the snake back, coiling it and putting it in her bag before standing.

"Thank you."

She means: people can, are encouraged to be, selfish assholes in the games.

"I'm Annie. Um. Where are you from?"

She's never heard anything like his name before, or his accent.

"You welcome." He spoke with the same calm smile. He didn't mind giving things that could be considered his, he wanted to be a good person. And she looked like she was mostly alone. It would be nice to help someone out.

"Nice to meet Annie." he lifted his hands to his chest again, with the slight bow. "Me? I am from Iceland. Far north, much cold." He explained, even if most modern people knew where his home was, he didn't always expect it. "You?"

"Ice land," Annie repeats, slowly, in the careful way of someone who hasn't ever used the words as a single name. Mostly because she hasn't. There is Panem, and that is all. They've never been taught the names of any other countries when learning history, and encouraged not to even ask.

Highly encouraged.

Too many speculation gets you in trouble.

So she has to tread carefully, so carefully. She can't be too curious, and it's not in her nature to accuse anyone of sedition.

"District Four. Panem. It's not cold, District Four."

"Iceland." he repeated it again, she was close enough that he didn't care. It sounded like two words, it was the land of ice to him anyway.

But when she spoke her own it was his turn to look confused. More completely lost.

He had never heard these words before, outside of four. He knew his numbers. He could count better than any would expect. "...Do not know Panem four." He admitted shaking his head. "never heard of."

She doesn't know what to say, how to react. Carefully, she supposes. It's like being caught in a rift: you just have to go with it until you can break free.

"Panem is the country," she says, finally, with the air of a student repeating something learnt by rote. "In the ruins of North America. District Four is the fishing district. There are twelve. We fish."

Then, hesitating, she adds, "No ice. It's too hot."

His eyes widened as he took a step backwards. "Ruins?" He needed a second on that. He moved to lean against the tree blinking a bit. Deciding this was definitely a time thing. "I have heard of America, many have told me it is Vinland... Vinland is a new land Leif found...My time is much before most. America is not yet known... Do you know any other lands?" He asked confused. What was wrong with her world.

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The Woods

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cw; snake death

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