![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: By the river and at the Inn in 6I
WHEN: November 4
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: N/A
Being married hasn't actually changed much. Finnick and Annie have been living together since they arrived here, and they've long ago given up the pretense of being anything less than devoted lovers. Functionally, they've lived like husband and wife for years, in private, and in Panem it was only in public that they pretended to be less than that, when they'd had to lie to the public and the media for the sake of Finnick's Victor narrative.
All it's changed here is the fact that now he wears a ring woven of rabbit-leather on his left hand, and Annie wears a matching one on hers. That sort of makeshift ring isn't uncommon in the poorer parts of District Four, where not everybody can afford jewelry, because food is more pressing, even as a new household comes together. In a way, this place is similar: no break from the business of survival can be afforded for the luxury of being newlyweds. Like in the districts travel restrictions and cost prevent most people traveling far on their honeymoon, confinement here means there's no time to stop, and the day after the wedding they'd been back gathering and fishing and caring for their birds. If a little later than normal.
Finnick misses summer. The leaves have been turning over the last few weeks, and they're falling now, crunching underfoot, slick with frost in the early mornings as he makes his way down the river. It's cold enough that he, used to coastal, tropical weather, has taken to wearing the winter clothing he'd been given the previous year. Today, because he's heading down the river, he's wearing a heavy cabled sweater and the he's carrying gloves in his pockets to put on after he's had his hands in the river.
He stops about halfway between the village and the waterfall, next to an old, tall tree that forks into two magnificent crowns and steps across to a particular spot where the river eddies past some rocks. He tugs on the cord that connects to a fish trap and hauls it out, only to find the trap empty, a hole smashed in it by something that the river's carried along. That means less fish, and more time spent, because he has to go find some sticks pliant enough to mend the trap with.
Anyone who happens across him by the river that morning will find Finnick with an oddly-shaped basket in his lap, weaving sticks into and around a hole in one side. But he's still vigilant; he looks up each time he hears footsteps, and if a knife happens to be close by, it's because it's useful for working with the wood.
Later, after the trap's fixed, a somewhat damp Finnick makes his way to the Inn, where he strips off his sweater and hangs it off a chair near the fire to give it a chance to dry, leaving him in just his now very well-worn red scrubs pants and shirt.
And he'll be staying by the fire until the sweater is dry. It's warm there.