Another Town Meeting -- In Regards to Water Supply and Fountain Issues

[notabirdcostume]

WHO: Sam Wilson
WHERE: The Village and then Inn
WHEN: (backdate) September 15
OPEN TO: ALL
WARNINGS: Paranoia? IDK.
STATUS: Open and also VERY threadjack friendly. This can be as crazy as the last time they all got together to spout theories. Set up your own sub-threads for what discussions you want to happen. I figure we need a discussion about the fountain and Sam's plan to watch it, a discussion about the recently discovered spring's side effects, and possibly a talk about any new discoveries or progress that's been made since the last town meeting. Feel free to mingle and make friends.

---

Sam stood at the edge of town, feeling a little ridiculous. However, he felt bad for not trying to include the two mysterious arrivals that had sworn this was some kind of murder game before running off. He still didn't get that, but the girl he'd met had worried him and after he'd heard about the guy as well he'd started to put it together that the two were most likely from the same place.

That aside, they weren't going to earn their trust if they had meetings and looked like they weren't at least trying to extend a hand to two of the newer arrivals to the village. Sam had decided enough was enough and since it was time for another meeting of the village folk it was also time to extend a welcome to their neighbors in the woods. He'd heard enough people mention that they'd been spotted out there. It wasn't like he had a phone and he wasn't sure how much he trusted Peggy's little bird friends just yet.

This was going to be his best bet and even then he felt utterly ridiculous. Sam took a deep breath and then called out, "HEY! I KNOW THERE'S A COUPLE OF YOU HIDING OUT THERE!" He paused, waited, took another breath, "MEETING IN THE VILLAGE IN 15 MINUTES! WE GOTTA TALK ABOUT THE WATER AND WHAT WENT DOWN WITH MY PLAN TO WATCH THE FOUNTAIN."

He couldn't be sure if they'd heard him or not, so Sam leaned down towards the ground, and wrote a brief note in the dirt:

TRUCE. MEET AT INN. NEED TO TALK.

Sam added a happy face as a sign of good will and also drew an arrow pointing towards the inn. It was now time to get everyone else if they hadn't already heard him yelling at the trees.

---


After getting the word out to the rest of the village population, Sam made his way back to the Inn. There was still a lot of debris from the Earthquakes that had literally shaken things up a few days ago, but the cleaning process has begun. Unfortunately, the smell of the contaminated river still wafted through the village and made Sam's nose crinkle in disgust. Just one more problem on top of everything else.

Sam gets things set up, running through the topics in his mind. He needs to follow up on the fountain and what people had experienced during their watch. His timing had been poor, so he hadn't actually had the opportunity to see anyone arrive. He also wanted to see if anything new had been discovered beside that spring Emma and Margaery had found a few days ago. The water supply was important after all, they could survive without a lot but water wasn't one of them.

He hoped this went a little better than the last time a meeting like this had been called, though at least he didn't have to worry about people fighting over weapons this time.

Comments

well, well, well (water-well)

[womanofvalue]

Peggy would have come to this meeting no matter who had set it up, but the fact that it had been Sam's suggestion makes her even more serious. She's settling herself into her new living situation, coping with the strangeness of actually knowing her roommate, even if it's from before things went bad in the war, but after the earthquake and what with the river smelling something awful, she's more than happy to go and contribute her voice to the conversation.

"I know we don't have anything that can test the water," she starts, when no one else has spoken, "but the spring does seem to be a viable alternative. That said, if the earthquake caused that much damage and polluted the water, what else might it have done? I'm hardly the person with the resources to do it, but I'm beginning to think we need a centralized system of analysing our surroundings on a regular basis. Maybe we could have prevented something," she offers.

[lastofthekellys]

"I'm not sure how we could have prevented it," Kate puts in then. "Seein' as the source of the river is out of our reach."

Oh so conveniently beyond their reach, she thinks. But it's a prison, so what can they expect? That the walls are made from cliff instead of bricks doesn't change that.

"But, in the interests of keepin' track of what goes on, our captors did give me chalk. And there are slates down in the school, and the blackboard. Not exactly permanent like ink and paper, but. Better than nothin', and might be more reliable than charcoal sticks."

[thekittenqueen]

"What exactly do you propose?" Margaery asked. The meeting had been a wise idea, given the escalation of events and the number of troubles now affecting the village. The spring had been a godsend, healing up Margaery's wounds and allowing her to feel rejuvenated again.

So long as it was available, that was where she intended to go for water. At least until things became more manageable in the village.

"What would be accomplished by analyzing our surroundings more than we are?" She wasn't opposed to the idea, she simply wanted to know the merits of the idea.

[treadswater]

They'd heard him, Sam Wilson. And read the rough note. Then Annie and Finnick had talked.

Do we trust this truce?

They haven't harmed us yet. But it sounds like a feast.

Feasts have things we need.

So they'd decided to join. Or at least, to arrive and then run at the first sign of trouble. Which is how, eventually, after everyone has turned up to the meeting and found their place, if one were to turn around, they'd see the two victors in the doorway.

The tall, beautiful bronze-haired man in dirty red is the most visible, leaning against the doorframe in a deceptively casual posture, while his companion - the red-haired woman in used-to-be-white-before-she-rolled-in-dirt, half his size and with a nervous twitch to her fingers seems to be hiding.

Annie is, actually, hiding. She'd been the voice of doubt, of reluctant agreement. She sees Finnick's logic, she does. And he's right. All her training and experience tells her he is. She'd just wanted to stay away. Be safe. Be hidden.

But they are here, so she's making the best of it, positioning herself so she can peer into the main room, so she can hear easily, but mostly, so she can keep an eye out.

Make sure no one sneaks up on them from the foyer area.

A truce can be, after all, a trap.

[notabirdcostume]

Sam had been keeping an eye out for the pair, well, mostly the girl. He'd heard about the other guy who had been staying in the woods and avoiding town, but the two had proven to be pretty elusive. He knew what the girl looked like though, so when he saw a flash of red hair and knew it wasn't attached to a former spy and assassin.

He figured if they were staying out in the woods that they were pretty jumpy. So he made it very open when he approached them, not doing it right away either. He wanted them to feel comfortable first. Sam kept an eye on them while the meeting started and when he felt there was a decent enough lull he made his way over. "Hey, so you got my message after all," he said as he approached, "How're the woods? Anything unusual out there?"

[fishermansweater]

They've seen this man around the village, not that Finnick's about to admit as much, and Finnick has worked out that he's Sam Wilson, the man who'd greeted Annie when she'd first arrived, and done so with a degree of kindness, as best Finnick can tell.

It had been the fact that Sam left the note, that Sam shouted out to them, that had been a part of what made Finnick advise they take the risk of coming. Sam could have attacked Annie at the fountain, if he'd wanted to. That doesn't mean he's not setting a trap, but ... it's still something in his favor.

"Hard to know what's unusual here," Finnick points out, matter-of-fact.

There is one thing he knows, though, that could be of some use to others here, so he adds a concession. "The fish all disappeared out of the river when the water went bad."

Mysteriously Appearing Locations

[lastofthekellys]

"Speaking of the spring," Kate says, raising her voice so people can listen, "this is the second time we've had somethin' just appearin' like that. The ruins with the crates, now this. The ruins tried to divide us up, this...

Seems to make us try an' work together. Just when we need the water, too.

So, anyone got any more ideas since last time?"

She looks around the room, arching her eyebrows. It's not a challenge, it's an invitation. So far, everyone has been good at reporting back strangeness, or so she gathers. But Lord knows she's aware of how much insomnia and stress can cause things to be filtered away, forgotten under the drive to survive this and now.

"Are these things just appearin', or they were always there but somehow hidden? And...

And has anythin' else turned up, because honestly, everyone. We have all these farm animals runnin' around, and this is not a farmin' town. We got no barns, no fences. So, is another set of ruins gonna show up with a barn?"

She hasn't heard much of the description of the ruins that Miss Jo and Captain Jones found, and certainly hasn't managed to hike out that way on her foot. But the question of the animals, and the mysteriously appearing places, has been preying on her mind.

[upinhisnest]

"You mind giving me a rundown of what happened with the ruins, Miss Kate?" Clint asks. "Since that was before I got here?"

The rest of it, though... he looks thoughtful.

"How far away from here has anyone gotten? If we can't get more than a certain distance away, it's possible we're actually in some sort of controlled environment. Which would make the things suddenly appearing when we need them make a lot more sense, because it's being changed for our benefit."

[fishermansweater]

"Appearing."

Finnick's leaning back against the door, one hand hovering near the zip of his backpack where one of the knives he'd stolen is carefully placed. When he speaks, the word is simply matter-of-fact. Because it's obvious to him. Everyone knows that when the tributes act in a way that makes things boring for the audience, the Gamemakers shake things up.

Or if they get too far away from the action. Or too close to the edge of the arena, at least since Haymithch Abernathy won the Second Quarter Quell.

"The Gamemakers are changing the environment to make us do what they want. It's what they do. Just like stopping us getting too close to the edges of the canyon."

He gives a grim flick of a smile. "That is, assuming everyone else found rockfalls and smooth surfaces and trees blocking their way any time they tried to explore above the waterfall."

[markwatney]

Last time we had a meeting like this, I'd been right there in the thick of it. Today, though, I'm leaning back in one of the inn's creaky dining chairs, fingers curled against my mouth, taking plenty of time to listen before I jump in. See, the thing is, while the discovery of the weapons and tools had felt deeply urgent, this time around I can't shake the feeling that this whole process is just a lot of us spinning our wheels.

"Here's the thing," I finally begin in one of the lulls, stirring enough to sit forward in my chair. "I don't know if I'm ready to believe that we were all dropped in here to kill each other, but we were definitely dropped in here for a purpose. The wind the first day— I don't know how, but I feel pretty sure that it was manufactured. And even though everything about the earthquakes and the contamination makes sense, it just feels too convenient. Too perfect. We finally get our feet under us and the rug is snatched out again."

Scratching idly at the back of my head, I lean back again with a sigh. "Record-keeping is important. Even if it nets us nothing. But what I'm really concerned about is what's the whole point? Because if somebody put us here to kill one another, they'd doing a really fucking terrible job of it."

[womanofvalue]

"I'd rather not hasten us to the notion that anyone's death should be any sort of outcome or possibility on the table," Peggy says, latching onto what Mark has been saying because he's bringing up something she agrees is crucial. "Record keeping, though, I agree is of the utmost importance," she concurs. "There may be patterns that we're missing or haven't even stopped to think about. Constellations, small tremors, even sunset and sunrise times. Maybe it's all insignificant now, but Watney's right."

"It does all seem quite cleverly manufactured and oh so perfectly timed, to say nothing of the odd boxes of supplies we seem to keep getting."

[thenewways]

"I don't disagree, but we'll need people, resource, to keep an eye on things," Nerys points out. Mark and Peggy are right, and she'd been talking about this before with Kate, to a certain extent. She's not so sure about the two who'd come out of the goddamn woods and their story (Nerys gets the impulse, she really does, and the backstory means it makes sense, but at the same time she's used to exploiting every last resource she can get), but in some cases? She'll leave the fighting to others.

"So we'll need either someone dedicated to it or a rota, and acknowledgement that doing record keeping is equal in merit to other kinds of labor around here." Nerys sighs, frowning for a second, before clarifying, "Not that anyone thinks that it's not, but it's important to make it clear. You never know who's going to turn up."

[thekittenqueen]

She had heard a number of people suggest that these troubles were created by some higher power. While she was not overly religious, what they said made this seem like some sort of divine intervention of the gods. Men didn't need a reason to fight and kill each other, they manufactured reasons on their own.

"How could someone simply create an earthquake or winds or rains?" She asked skeptically. "I had thought there were others here once, but disappeared, leaving the buildings and animals. Is it even possible for someone to manage the weather?" She didn't like the idea. So many seemed to believe it, but it felt too ridiculous to her.

Or perhaps it was her fear that wouldn't let her grasp the concept.

[fishermansweater]

"It's possible," Finnick says. "The Gamemakers do it in the Hunger Games. They build the whole arena down to the last rock and set traps that can trigger when a tribute passes them or when they want to liven things up. I've seen them create snowstorms and gales and rain." He doesn't speak unkindly, though he also doesn't do much to soften his words. But when he continues, behind his back, where nobody can see, he risks brushing his fingers against Annie's hip.

"And earthquakes."

He pauses a moment, considering. "This place isn't any bigger than an arena. I don't think anyone could do it over a larger area, but in this canyon, they could."

[thekittenqueen]

"Gamemakers? Hunger Games? What is that exactly? How can you be so certain that this is what is happening?" It seemed ridiculous, but his conviction was disconcerting. He seemed so certain that was the explanation. How could she refute or deny it? There was no evidence to the contrary, no matter how strange the idea was.

"Why would they wish to liven things up?" What purpose did any of it serve?

For Jo

[fishermansweater]

Finnick and Annie came here to learn. They've been avoiding coming out in the open in the village, whenever they could. That's not to say they haven't been here: they have. They've just been watching from shadows, under cover of the woods and the overgrown scrub that pervades even the village, a gift to a Career tribute who knows how to hide.

They'd taken this risk, and they'd taken it to see what they could gain from this meeting, but also to watch the people here and learn more about them. To test if they are really as welcoming and friendly as they have so far seemed determined to act.

Finnick still wasn't sure he believed what Riza had told him, about people here from different worlds before he came here, but the reaction when he'd mentioned the Games and the Gamemakers, the skepticism towards so much of what he'd had to say, is shaking that confidence.

When he's not speaking, he's listening, and watching, and he's not making much attempt to disguise the fact that's what he's doing. Or that he's standing near the door so he has an easy escape.

Re: For Jo

[tobeclosetohim]

They stick out. The two from the forest, who ran as soon as they appeared.

Jo'd give it the caveat that they stick out to her, but she stopped differentiating long ago, back in her child, when the group that was considered different, of standing out as wrong, was the 95% of the world that weren't like her and hers. This is what they read like, with their calculatedly collecting glances, the knowledge hinted at both in and under their words.

She doesn't point it out. It wouldn't do her any more good currently than she thinks it's done yet for what she, Kol, and, now, Riza have pointed out about themselves. She does put a pin in it, and when the gathering starts dissolving itself, Jo makes it a casual thing to end up in Finnick's direction. Talking to people as she passes, about the maps on the wall and the new things to add to the trading lists, and the new book she's working on.

Jo's just stopped with one, when she looks up and finds him only feet away, and says only, "Hey."

[fishermansweater]

Finnick's noticed how much he and Annie stick out, too, but they've been quietly watching the village folk, especially seeing how they reacted to the earthquake. They're not the only people with the caution and alertness of a victor, though there's nobody else here who is one. The blond woman who'd spoken up about recordkeeping had also talked about trauma, and maybe that's what means that she watches people like a victor.

He hadn't understood everything she'd said -- that whole worlds thing Riza had first mentioned to him still doesn't make sense -- but he'd heard and understood enough to know that, victor or not, there was something in common between many of the people here in things they'd done and seen.

"Hey," he replies. He smiles, a little, no brightness but none of the sharpness of falsehood in it. "You the one responsible for these, too?" He tilts his head towards the sheets on the wall.

It's a guess, but it's based on what she'd said about the calendar she'd been using, and the name he'd been given when he first got here as the person who'd set up trading lists. Jo, which was what the young man with the heavy accent who'd asked what trauma meant had called her.

Come to the light side

[articulatings]

He waits until there's a lull--everything that's happened is more than it's fair share of special. That's the only word that comes to mind, save maybe wonderful in it's most archaic sense. Full of wonder--not necessarily bad.

He's learned things, though. By listening and only really interjecting when he needs to push the conversation along. He really does want to survive, of course--Boyd's not quite that opportunistic--but he feels safer when he has a plan either in motion or in his back pocket. Just in case. Right now, it's the latter.

"'The people who walk in darkness Will see a great light; Those who live in a dark land, The light will shine on them,' Isiah 9:2."

When he rises from where he'd been previously, it's an odd sort of gracefulness that one doesn't normally see in 40 year old men, but Boyd has a certain charm and way with confidence that it seems to make sense.

"Pardon me if I seem to be stepping on any toes, bein' one of the newer folks to grace your lovely establishment," he begins, and his smile could light up a dark mine, "but in times like this it seems that some Faith might be needed; for there is no greater light in the dark than the Lord Jesus Christ himself, or whomever you choose to worship, I refuse to discriminate."

And, almost immediately, his hands are up as if to show he's unarmed. "I ain't tryin' to convert as such, before y'all go getting the wrong idea. I'm merely pointing out that as a pastor of sorts in my home world, should anyone be interested, I reckon a permanent place of worship might be beneficial to the mental well bein' of all, should you choose to participate."

Re: Come to the light side

[thecatinahat]

He can hear his grandmother's voice rattling around in his head, creaky and demanding, tener cuidado de los falsos profetas, but it's been a very long time since Cougar has been to church and there are so many sins on his soul that no matter how many rosaries he prays on his knees, he fears those innocent children will not be with God until he has repented enough.

The sacred heart above his own, Cougar feels it itch. He's not sure what to make of this new man -- anyone new brings wariness to him -- but somewhere to sate the thirst of his faith is enough for him to feel that yearning pull at him.

"Good idea," is all he offers, evenly.

[articulatings]

Boyd's smile is light and easy, and he spreads his arms wide, a welcoming gesture. His posture is surprisingly straight for someone with a stereotypical hillbilly accent; carrying himself like a king despite his rural upbringing.

"I ain't saying everyone has to show," he agrees, "just that it's there if people so desire to cleanse their souls. Are you a God fearing man, sir? Do you follow the word of God and Christianity, or does your beliefs devote you to another sect?"

[thekittenqueen]

She felt her skin crawl as he spoke the words, the sudden rush revulsion and fear blocked out any noises but the sound of her breathing. Wrapping her arms about her waist, Margaery forced down the sudden feeling of blinding rage. Pious men had spoken like this to her before. Their haughty, arrogant attitudes had lead to the destruction of her world and torn apart the foundation of power, righteously assuming that they could replace it with their faith.

Now someone was seeking to do the same here? Offering up his beliefs as though it was the answer to keeping them alive? No! She could stomach this again. She could bear to suffer through another sermon from a similar man than the one who allowed the mutilation of her brother and whose lack of foresight caused her death.

She got to her feet, feeling her legs tremble beneath her. "Should anything sensible be further discussed, then perhaps I could be told of this later? I will not remain if the meeting decides to slip into the realm of the absurd." She turned on her heel and headed towards the kitchen, needing to be anywhere other than here.

[lastofthekellys]

Kate wears a cross, says thank you Father before meals, and she'd been waiting to see how the crowd reacts before saying anything. She misses church. She misses the sanctity of it, the rituals that grounded her when the rest of her life was disintegrating faster than she could rebuild it. She misses hearing sermons, she misses group prayer. She misses.

She's also not blind. Not to the reactions of various members of her little community, nor to the dangers of honey-voiced men claiming to speak the Word of God and really after a little fleecing of their flock.

(...a pastor of sorts

Why the clarification? She doesn't quite understand, doesn't like the way it makes her doubt)

But she'll take Mr Crowder on his word, for now, because she misses and maybe it's something she's been feeling like she ought to do. Find her fellow Christians here, join them in communal prayer. Regardless of how many other Catholics are actually here, she just misses. So much.

Kate doesn't, however, let her yearning distract her from the temporal responsibility she's decided to take on for herself. Miss Margaery is all razor-fine precision and fury before she stalks away, and Kate doesn't want her to consume herself alone.

She glances at Mr Sorellin next to her, manages to briefly and discreetly squeeze his fingers in a silent farewell, and gets to her feet.

Nothing's said to Mr Crowder. A little smile, a little nod of her head - not agreement, per say, but acknowledgement of his offer. She will follow this up later. Then, as quickly and lightly as she can given her limp, Kate slips out of the room after Miss Margaery.

She doesn't want to leave, but... Well. She lives with perceptive people, and has connections with more. She can ask them, later, how things went. For now, one person is her concern.

She finds Miss Margaery in the kitchen, and shuts the door behind her as she enters the room.

"Miss Margaery? Are you all right?"

[dnr]

"Yeah," says Frank, leveling a squint at the newcomer. "We gonna put that up between the ice cream parlor and the spa?"

Because that's about how important Frank thinks that is. He gives a derisive snort, shaking his head, and leans back in his seat.

"Unless you're planning on feeding the multitudes here, pastor, I can think of about a hundred better ways to be spending your time."

Observation is a thing/ota

[thesavior]

Emma wasn’t exactly sure why she had come to this meeting. She was only sure of a few things; one she was sure of was it was in her nature to try and save people to the best of her ability. She was less inclined to doubt her abilities to be of any use. The days of her doubting her place in the world are long gone. She may not know exactly where she fits here, but she finally realized that she does have value. The second, was that she knew something about crowd control and the last thing that any of them needed was to start fighting with each other.

She slipped in as the meeting was already in progress. Her arms crossed lightly across her chest. Her pose was not intimidating at all, but she certainly wasn’t a wall flower. She didn’t know exactly how she felt about this so called sharing fest. It wasn’t exactly Emma’s cup of tea, but she had seen first hand, how devastating secrets could be to a community. She realized with sudden clarity that was exactly what they were and they needed to work together. It didn’t matter what color scrubs they wore or where they came from, they were here now and that was all that mattered.