"With my paintbox I can make..."

[notbadcakeboss]

WHO: Peeta Mellark
WHERE: The woods, The bakery
WHEN: June 16 - 30
OPEN TO: All, One closed prompt for Katniss
WARNINGS: Nada

---

The Bakery

It had taken time to adjust and let his paranoia about the village to subside. While he had decided that this wasn't the arena and he wasn't in the games, instinct kept him braced for violence or ambushes. Too often, he stayed up through the night, keeping watch and listening for the familiar sounds of the games. There were no canons, no images in the sky and no mutts to chase them. After a month, he was able to relax and rest during the night. The more he regained his energy and strength, the more he felt ready to make something of his life here.

He'd been directed to the bakery and warned in advance that it needed to be cleaned. The building was at least in tact, even if it had dust, dirt and leaves everywhere. He'd have to scrub it from the walls to the floor, but it would be worth it in the end.

He certainly wasn't about to be above putting people to work, especially if they showed interest in what he was doing. "This will go a bit faster if you give me a hand." He said, smiling at whoever was peeking inside.


The Woods [Closed to Katniss]

He never cared for the woods in District 12, having lived more in the village than in the Seam. He didn't have to survive in the way Katniss did, though that wasn't to say it was any better. He'd always admired her ability to trek out into the forests and collect game. It certainly had kept them both alive in the the arena, even if he hadn't been able to contribute much.

But that could be changed here. After Mark's lesson on plants, Peeta had revived the familiar project that he and Katniss had started in 12. The plants were different and apparently more dangerous. They'd need to keep track of them, especially if someone who happened to recognize the plants happened to leave. This also let him feel as if he was contributing, as he couldn't hunt like Katniss.

Perhaps even better, it gave him a chance to be alone with her. He would be glad to wander off into the woods now for that. There was nothing to distract or drive them apart. His mood was bright, despite where they were and had no answers in how they came to be there. He grinned at Katniss, picking one of the Forget Me Nots. "Here, for you."

I'm Fixing a Hole Where the Rain Gets In and Stops My Mind from Wandering

[pretendtoneedme]

WHO: Clint Barton, Master Carpenter (kind of)
WHERE: Area past House 20, Inn common room, out in the wilds
WHEN: Through mid-June
OPEN TO: Anyone, except the third part
WARNINGS: Nothing immediately, warnings will be in comment headers if they're needed

---

( Destruction and Construction, out past House 20, Open )

It's become inevitable, really - the house needs more space for all the creatures living there, at least not the ones not human. Arado stayed with Clint, of course, and the now-grown chickens had their hutch and run on the side of the house not occupied with Bev's garden, but somehow Clint had ended up with Moana's pig Itiiti when the girl had disappeared and also there were more (native? were they native any more than the people were?) animals coming around, some of which could apparently be domesticated. Despite living on an actual farm, Clint had never been a farmer, but he did know at least something about animals, and more about building. Not to mention their house was out at the end of the row, still close enough to where it was fairly central but with a pretty open expanse next to it, filled with a few trees but not a full forest.

Basically, it was perfect for a corral, and whoever the dicks were that had dumped them here, they'd at least left them some new tools for getting work done. So Clint had raided the storage room at the inn, taking a lumber saw, an arborist's saw, and full-sized axe, and had started cutting down trees. These wouldn't be going for firewood, however; as the day went on, it would be clear that Clint had a more specific purpose in mind, as he used his own toolkit to measure sections of the trees to cut into logs, followed by stripping the outer bark off with the smaller saw, and then splitting them into posts and planks. There's going to be a fence around the area in about a week if he has anything to say about it. If anyone wants to wander by and ask questions or help, they'd be welcome (it's not like it's a quiet thing he's doing, after all).


( Planning For the Future, Inn, Open )

The tools they've been given are surprisingly good, he's happy to see: sturdy, either completely new or very well-kept, with equipment to see to their upkeep. It gives him a vague hope that there's a way to beat this "game," whatever it is; that these people want to see them succeed to some degree or other, and that they're willing to give them a little help along the way. He's still massively pissed off at them of course, for all the myriad other reasons people are pissed at them, but good tools are good tools and it's a bit of help he didn't expect.

And now that they have those tools, they have capabilities they didn't before, and Clint's got something cooking in his mind. The animals that are coming around, some of them are herd creatures, but some of them aren't - and he's pretty sure he's spotted some horse-like things out when he's been hunting. And right now, they don't have anywhere to put large animals where they can be safe from predators or the weather, but he's sure that residents are going to want to tame some of these guys. To that end, Clint's devised the beginnings of a plan, but it's going to be a good idea to ask for any help that he can get with it.

So one day on his lunch break at the inn, he finds a spot on the community chalkboard that's non-essential and can be erased and does so, much as he'd done the month before when people suddenly disappeared. But instead of putting up a list of names this time, he first puts up the words "BARN? - IDEAS?" and begins sketching under them. For a chalk sketch in a fairly awkward position, it's a very good drawing; Clint's obviously had a lot of practice at making (and reading) blueprints, and a lot of practice at getting freehanded lines straight (a lot more than at making his handwriting easily legible). He outlines two sections in swift chalk strokes: one, the bottom, with a door on either end and an open path connecting them, four stalls on either side, and a small window in each stall. The other looks to be the same general size and shape, but without anything other than, seemingly, a roof and a single door, more a big square than anything. In that one, he writes "hay and feed storage."


( Rodeo Time, the woods, Closed to Nat )

Getting the barn started is one thing, but Clint wants to have some sort of transportation now. They've all felt the lack of it in their time there, not being able to jump into any sort of vehicle to get where they need to be fast, and if there's a way to negate at least part of that, he wants in. Which means Clint's grabbed Nat for back up, and the two of them have gotten some of the rope in the storage room at the inn, and they're going out to try and wrangle one of the horse-things that have been spotted but always run away.

It's an overnight trip to get to where things open up more and the horse-creatures are easily visible; thankfully their captors had also provided sleeping bags and tents, and Clint and Nat are old hands at spending a night "roughing it". Hopefully this'll have a good reward, and it won't be just a wasted trip, though Clint's at least spotted some interesting plants to take back to Mark even if they don't wind up with mounts. But at last, after some long but not too rough hiking, they reach the grassy plains where the things they're looking for seem to congregate, as well as a few other animals that don't look too aggressive, but that Clint's going to keep an eye on just to make sure they don't get charged. Both of them have ropes (a climbing rope is still a rope), and both of them have some of the early fruit from the community trees in their packs to act as bait.

"I think this is about the best we're gonna get - you ready?"

Is this what you want of me?

[frankensteinian]

WHO: Erik Lehnsherr
WHERE: The storage rooms, the village headed for the woods
WHEN: June 16
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: None yet

He had thought, for a few days, that perhaps they had just missed each other. They're both busy, after all, and they don't live in the same place. They hadn't seen each other every day anyway. But after days of not seeing her around, and seeing no signs of her at her house, Erik has been forced to the conclusion that Claire is now among those who have disappeared from this place. One more loss to add to the list. It hasn't gotten any easier to handle than it ever has been before, but at least this time he can't tear the world apart just by thinking about it. Good for the world, but bad for him.

It's a good thing he lives alone, because the chair that he sends flying across the room to crash into a wall could have hurt someone. Instead the only harm is to the chair itself as it splinters. It's the sight of them, and the awareness that now he doesn't have that chair for sitting in anymore, that gets through to him. There has to be a more productive way of dealing with this.

Whoever's behind this. They brought him here, they brought her here, they must have taken her away again. They're the ones he should mad at. There's just one problem: he doesn't know who they are. Or how to find them. Or what he could do about it even if he found one of them. But he's not a quitter; there have to be answers out there somewhere, and he won't find them by remaining here.

It only takes an hour. He empties out the backpack from his arrival and fills it back up again, with an extra set of clothes, a little food, blankets, any supplies he has lying around. Then he heads to the communal store rooms to see what he can find. No tent, but he grabs an Army tarp and a rope. He can rig something up with those. A survival kit, and a hatchet, for chopping wood. Everything he might need for a wilderness camping trip.

They've found places belonging to them before, though he hasn't heard of it happening since their arrival in this new place. There must still be places out there somewhere, and he's not returning to the village until he finds one. Does he actually know how to survive out in the woods for that long? No, but that's no concern to him. He'll do what he always does: wing it.

With his backpack loaded up and his arms full, he sets out in a random direction, headed for a place where he thinks something had been found before.