WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: The woods, by the fields, and the Inn
WHEN: June 6
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: None so far but always the chance of Panem-related asshattery

THE WOODS

OTA

He thinks they're dandelions. At least, they look like dandelions. But for all his training, edible-plants was never Finnick's strongest point. Fishing, hunting, improvising nets and ropes out of whatever he could find around him, those were the skills that got him through the arena of the 65th Hunger Games. So when he finds that a spot in the woods near one of his fishing traps has, in the space of a few days, erupted into a carpet of fluffy white balls that burst seeds into the air as he walks through them, Finnick's immediate response is uncertainty.

He crouches down by one of the plants and peers at its leaves. Dandelions, he knows, are safe to eat. He's seen tributes eat them in the arena. But he isn't sure if these are actually dandelions or just some other plant that acts like them, and he can't remember as he studies the leaves whether or not that's what dandelion leaves look like. if they were dandelions, shouldn't there have been flowers? Or at least, flowers for longer than the time it's been since Finnick last walked through this spot?

Maybe someone in the village will know. Maybe Katniss will know, since somehow she seems to know a lot more about how to survive in the wild than any tribute from her District he's ever seen. (There's a story there, somewhere, but it's a story that nobody would expect anyone else to share, at least not someone who's spent as long under the Capitol's surveillance as Finnick.)

So Finnick gathers a collection of leaves from the plants, and tries his best to collect one of the fluffy heads without it bursting into the air, and puts them in one of the woven baskets he and Annie use for transporting fish.

THE FIELDS

OTA

Finnick plans to stop by the fields on his way home, with the vague thought that there might be someone there who's able to help him work out what the plant he's found is. But as he cuts across from the woods towards the fields, Finnick's suddenly overcome by the smell of salt on the breeze, the tangy smell of the sea that means home.

He stops, uncertain, and raises his trident, his body suddenly tense, the alertness that's always running under the surface suddenly springing to the surface. It's impossible that he's smelling the ocean here; surely it can only be some sort of trap.

He waits, only sign of movement the rapid rate at his his gaze goes from one spot to another, scanning trees, shrubs, anything that could act as cover. It's only slowly that he realizes there's no real apparent danger, and heads towards the smell.

THE INN

OTA

The smell of the sea had turned out to be coming from another unexpected spring blossoming, this time an expanse of purple flowers on the boundary of the fields. He doesn't remember seeing wildflowers there before now, and now there are so many of them that they look like a field of their own. Since he already has a sample of uncertain flora in his pack, he'd picked some of these flowers, too, and he heads for the Inn with his samples in his backpack.

He stalks into the main room of the Inn, because it's one of the places it's common to see a lot of the villagers gathered. He has one of the purple flowers in his hand, and he holds it out, his head tilted to one side, as he leans on the never-stocked bar.

"Is it me, or are there more plants around than there should be?"

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It took practice for Finnick not to react like this to far more things than he does. Many of the victors would see threats where there weren't any; Finnick saw threats in the people around him in the Capitol, but he couldn't react like this. But the uncertainty of what an unexpected smell means had slipped past his guard, because he had no way of knowing just what caused it, or how much of a threat it was.

At least, if someone had to see him react like this, it was Peeta, a fellow victor. Victors knew what it was like to see a threat where there might not be one, to react as if his life depended on it, because they'd been in the arena too, where their lives did depend on their reaction to anything unexpected.

"Can you smell that?" he asked, the question the only acknowledgment to Peeta. He was still looking around, slowly, trying to work out where the smell of the sea came from.

He did understand what it was to see a threat where there wasn't one, reacting with wariness and being on guard where others would just brush something aside. Smell or sound, it wouldn't mean anything to them. For victors, they knew these things could mean life or death. They survived by keeping their guard up.

He wouldn't judge. There were a number of strange things in this village. Phantom smells could be some trick by the Observers. Jabberjays had been used in the arena, this wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine.

Peeta smelled the air, looking for something that stuck out to him. But There was nothing, only the same scent of fresh air and pine from the forest. "What do you smell?"

Finnick didn't know Peeta well yet, but he knew enough victors to suspect that Peeta would understand, at least. The victors bore with them the aftereffects of what they'd done in the arena to survive; he didn't know of any of them who didn't, no matter how well some of them tried to hide it.

In some ways, it was a small relief that someone understood that way of reacting to something unexpected, a potential threat; he'd spent so long with these people dismissing or showing open skepticism about his suspicions that he no longer expected anyone else to seem to take them something like seriously.

"Something smells like the sea," he said, pausing his study of the fields in front of him long enough to glance sidelong at Peeta. "Salt water and hot sand and a little raw fish," he added, because he wasn't sure if Peeta would have ever registered just what that smell was in the brief stop in Four on the Victory Tour. "Can you smell it?"

There was a twitch they all possessed, some sort of shadow in their eyes that spoke of something lurking in their mind. They were victors, but they never fully left the arena. It was with them always, coming forward when they tried to sleep or find a bit of peace.

He understood, even if Finnick didn't mention it. It was still fresh with him, made worse by the Quarter Quell. While he didn't smell the ocean, he knew that this place had some sort of lake or large body of water. But that wasn't the point. It was that he sensed something off.

"I don't smell it." It wasn't to be dismissed though. He knew that smell, but it didn't make him think of the victory tour. Just the description was enough to take him back once again to the arena. "Do you think the Observers are trying to make you remember things from home?"

Ten years later, Finnick was still as edgy around danger as a newly-crowned victor, but he'd faced danger far more recently than the arena, even before he found himself here. He'd learned that the sharks of the Capitol could kill just as surely as those of the sea or the arena, and those had been the ones that had attacked him, over and over again. Far from the Capitol, though, this place had kept those nerves sharpened, keen against the moment when things would change, if and when it came.

"Not sure," he told Peeta. "They've done things like that before. Gifts from home and hallucinations and other tricks." He shot a sidelong glance at the other victor. "A lot of the same tricks the Gamemakers use, just less immediately deadly."

And, therefore, it was harder to understand, to see their strategy.

"You don't smell it at all? You smell anything strange?"

ψ haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? | OTA

THE WOODS

THE FIELDS

THE INN

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