sixthiterationlogs | things happen, that's all they ever do.

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things happen, that's all they ever do.

WHO: Reyes Vidal
WHERE: The bunker; the inn; the village generally
WHEN: Dec 2-5
OPEN TO: OTA, multiples for inn/village allowed
WARNINGS: Nothing really

Arrival in the Bunker (now locked to Kat)
The last he knew, he’d been trying to hitch a ride off Port Meridian, the crashed ark turned human city. He’d been standing in the elevator while it rose sluggishly towards the shuttle bays. Boring enough, yes, because the elevators always seemed to run far too agonisingly slowly despite their complexity, but it hadn’t been nothing out of the ordinary—

Until, the next he knows, the elevator has filled with water. The thought Is the ark malfunctioning manages to run through his head, but then he’s far too busy trying to find the door, failing, running his fingers along the crevices and edges of the container, realising it isn’t actually the lift anymore, and then, his worst nightmare: panicking.

Reyes’ nerves are steely even at the worst of times, but water is simply inexorable, unstoppable, unbargainable. Thankfully, the wait isn’t long before the seal hisses open and the water starts draining and someone (his liberator, he supposes) is helping him out, shaky and wobbly-legged and swearing in Spanish.

South Village Inn, a couple days later (OTA)
Predictably, Reyes gravitates towards the inn. It’s the closest thing to Tartarus, the bar he used to haunt — communal spaces where he can people-watch, get a sense for the group as a whole, possibly even eavesdrop.

But unfortunately, this place is nothing like the neon-soaked dive bar on his slum planet.

The room starts off empty when Reyes begins his inspection, but after a while he hears the creak of footsteps on ancient floorboards, and his head pops up from behind the bar, looking a little sheepish — and empty-handed, dusty. Poking around every single cabinet and shelf has led to absolutely nothing. “Is it true?” he asks with a gesture towards the empty bar, with the sound of a man who’s recently received a horrifying diagnosis from the doctor.

Around the village (OTA)
Reyes will be doing the usual for his first few days: roaming, information-gathering, people-watching, committing the layout of the area to memory. He’s also trying to suss out who lives where and if the fuss of a house is worth it, so can probably be found lingering and staring thoughtfully at the empty buildings, where a neighbour can catch him. He would also appreciate anyone willing to show him where to get/find food etc!

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Finnick has been watching this village since he first found himself here two years ago. It's easy, here, after so long playing to the Capitol. Here, people don't parse every word, every action, expecting a perfect performance. Here, that perfect performance isn't what keeps Annie safe from Snow's threats. Here, they may be watched, they may be manipulated, but he's not immediately threatened on a daily basis, and he's allowed to have his wife.

Not that any of that stops Finnick using years of Career training and watching the Capitol to gather information. He knows that he isn't alone in that, though he's alone in where the skills came from, except for Annie. And he watches out for new people, trying to assess them as allies and threats, as people with skills and weaknesses. Which is why he notices the way the new guy is appraising the unoccupied buildings.

"Window-shopping?" he asks as he steps around the corner from the shadow of the building next door to the one the guy's looking at.

A twitch of a smile in the corner of his mouth, as Reyes shifts to take in the new arrival. “Perhaps a little. I should’ve started pressing my nose to the windows, made it even more dreadfully obvious.”

There’s a nonchalance to his movements, but underneath it a subtle wariness, too — like a cat sauntering through a room, pretending it’s absolutely unbothered, and yet remaining spine rigid and watchful. So, he looks over the other man: around his age or a little younger, handsome, and dressed more like a proper villager than Reyes’ fresh scrubs, which mark him as a new arrival.

“The inn’s starting to look a little full, so I decided to take a look at the houses. ” He doesn’t technically owe anyone an explanation, but on the off-chance that this man does live in one of the neighbouring buildings, Reyes prefers to tread lightly. He’s been greeted with everything from a cup of tea to brandished weapons here.

Finnick's carrying weapons, but they're not obvious unless someone's looking for them at the moment: knives secreted in the pockets of his coat. It's one of the less aggressive greetings he's given anyone here lately; he's not carrying a trident on his way to check his fishing traps. But Finnick doesn't need a weapon to be dangerous, and for the observant, there's something in the way he moves that suggests it, a combination of easy grace and physical ease with a keen sharpness in his gaze. He doesn't really pretend not to size the other man up. Finnick notices the wariness in the other man, because he's used to recognizing it by now, after living with victors for so long in Panem and seeing so many other people who act like them in small ways here.

Finnick doesn't comment on it. He just smiles and moves a little closer.

"It's useful to have your own space."

Useful is one word for it. There were many others that could be used, by a person who had Finnick and Annie's wariness about the villagers. "You're new," he says, tilting his head a little in acknowledgment of the fact that it's not actually a question. "I'd say 'welcome', but this isn't exactly the sort of place you welcome someone to."

Reyes’ expression flickers, and it’s hard to tell exactly what that emotion is, though seems like bemusement. “Isn’t that the truth,” he says. “I appreciate your calling a spade a spade.”

Everyone’s small kindnesses have simply been putting a thin sliver of pleasantry over a maddening situation. Captives. Captives without explanation, which was the hardest part for an information-monger, a former spy. If, at the very least, Reyes had known he was being held by a rebel group because they wanted to pressure a government into re-legalising batarian slave trade, well, at least that sort of thing he could understand. So far, everyone’s presence on this island had been inexplicable.

“If I must be mysteriously spirited away to an inescapable land,” and his voice is dry, with a sort of mordant humour, “I might as well have my own kitchen while I’m at it.”

Finnick had responded to arriving in this place by running into the woods and hiding there with Annie until a run of wet weather had driven them into the village and the house they'd chosen on its outskirts. They'd been what some would call paranoid, convinced that the people here were likely to turn on them at any moment, like an arena alliance gone bad. It was the sole way of understanding a place like this they'd had, and while they now accept that it's not the correct reference, they feel safer assuming danger than not.

He sees little point in sugar-coating the situation.

"None of us are here because we want to be," he says.

It's better than the immediate danger of an arena, and it's at a distance from Snow's control, but they're still controlled and manipulated, just in a different way. His expression is carefully impassive as he watches the other man's face.

"It comes with a bed and a bathroom too," Finnick replies, amusement twitching the corner of his mouth for a moment. "Hardly luxury, but it's shelter." Better than was possible in the arena, but far from his victor's mansion.

"God forbid. I've always hated sharing a bathroom with a whole floor." An absurd thing to take issue with, considering all their many other serious problems on this island -- but it's apparent, then, that Reyes is still joking. He'll gripe about the trivial things, because they're far preferable to touching on the real iniquities of their situation.

"Do you live in one of these, then?" He jerks his thumb towards the row of houses meandering off into the distance. The old-fashioned buildings might be cozy, if it weren't also so eerie; most remain without power, dark and unlit. The few that are properly powered look like stubborn little outposts against the wintry cold.

Finnick is more than passingly familiar with the strategy of complaining about small things because the big things are too big. It's an art in the districts, where quotas are unrealistic and unyielding, conditions are dangerous, children are sent to arena in punishment for a long-past war, and the Peacekeepers are ready to repress any sign of unease. Easier to complain about gulls milling around looking for the opportunity to steal some fish than the system that makes sure the catch is so scrutinized at the end of the day.

His understanding of the joke shows in a brighter flash of his smile, before he shakes his head at the question.

"I live further out of the village. Like my privacy." Which is only partly true; he'd gotten used to living in the Victors' Village rather than in the main city, but it had been paranoia more than privacy that led to Finnick and Annie choosing the house they had, out on the edge of the village.

"I'm Finnick. Should have mentioned that earlier."

“Reyes, and don’t worry, I probably should have done the same. I’m the one lurking, after all.”

It’s always a bit of a delicate balancing act here. Introducing himself is a simple enough piece of information to give out, and harmless, and the breezy charm comes easily enough — but old habits are hard to break. Reyes prefers the shadows, and that’s harder to do in a village where practically everyone notices a newcomer.

So, with that on his mind: “You look like you’ve been here a while,” he says after a moment, nodding towards the other man’s practical wardrobe. If he didn’t know any better, it’s almost as if Finnick’s from here, but that hasn’t seemed to be the case with anyone yet. “I’m fairly fresh out of the fountain. Any tips on choosing a house, besides ‘as far away from people as possible’?”

"Nice to met you then, Reyes. I've been here longer than most here by now." And it shows in how patched and faded his scrubs and coat are, how well-worn and weatherbeaten his boots, the bare patches rubbed against the leather by many months' walking the line of his fishing traps. Yes, he's been here a long time.

Not longer than everyone, but there are only a handful of people left here who'd been among the villagers when Finnick and Annie had arrived and bolted for the woods. Most people here from that time have disappeared, some long ago and some more recently, and been replaced by new faces, like Reyes himself.

"Get one with a fireplace," is the most immediate advice he offers, after a moment's consideration to think about just how helpful he should be. Whatever his natural inclinations might say, a part of Finnick still treats this place as a competition, where any help given has to be weighed against its potential costs. Career training dies hard, harder still when it's reinforced by years of survival in the Capitol's social scene.

Not seeing the new guy freeze is probably in all their interests though, really.

"Winters are hard here, you'll need it. Some of them are pretty beat up but some have already had someone do some work on them who's not here anymore. Could save yourself some repairs in the middle of winter if you find one that's been used before."

He’s surprised, actually, by how useful that little tidbit is, and how he hadn’t considered it before. The empty houses look so dusty and forlorn that it’s easy to think that they’ve never had occupants, but judging by how people pass in and out of the village, he belatedly realises it makes sense that a villager might’ve lived there before. “That’s— actually a really good point, thank you.”

And for lack of any better information to trade in exchange, Reyes offers up a detail, ruefully: “My last home was hot, dry, and mountainous. Snow is going to take a bit of acclimatisation.”

In more ways than one. He’s already had to scavenge a hat and gloves from the inn to offset some of the winter chill.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he says with a soft laugh.

It doesn't snow much in the fisheries. Snow was something he'd always associated with the Victory Tour, with the occasions he'd had to go to the Capitol in the winter. They weren't good memories. But he was a Career, and part of the training had included surviving in winter. But the few weeks of the Games were a different matter to the months that winter lasted here. Finding shelter and making supplies last for several months had taken a different set of skills, and it doesn't hurt to pass some of that information on.

"The villagers have a pretty good eye on making sure there are enough supplies, and there's at least one meal a day at the Inn so nobody goes hungry if they can't find their own food. But it helps to be able to do some things for yourself."

He can't gauge yet just how much Reyes might know about survival, hunting, fishing, any of the ways people use to get by here, but he's observant, which is a good start.

"So I'm gathering." There's the slightest edge of dismay there; the particular bitterness that comes from a man with specialised talents being plunged into an environment where those talents have absolutely no use anymore. What use for running a black market or smuggling contraband goods when there's no crime, no legal authorities or government to circumvent?

But when thrown so wholeheartedly out of your comfort zone, there's nothing else to do but roll up your sleeves, dust yourself off, and try again.

"I'll probably be taking those hunting lessons I've heard about. Not exactly a skill I've needed before, but— I'd rather not starve just because I couldn't fend for myself."

Because generosity is fleeting, and can't always be relied upon; just because there's a meal at the inn most days doesn't mean it'll always be there. And besides, relying upon the inherent kindheartedness of strangers rankles Reyes. Not due to any stubborn sense of pride, but the sense of security. Independence. (Quite possibly something Finnick identifies with.)

"Probably a smart plan."

Finnick's seen it before, like in the 74th Hunger Games, tributes who rely on having a stockpile of food instead of finding it themselves, only to find that stockpile destroyed. It had been a turning point when Katniss destroyed the Careers' supplies and forced them to try to look after themselves. This place isn't as harsh as an arena, but that's because there's something like a community here. There are farmers, hunters, fishers, cooks and a man keeping the stores who all contribute to the wellbeing of the group as a whole.

Finnick and Annie even contribute to the food supplies by sharing some of their fishing surplus, and occasional other things they don't need. They look after their reputation in the group because that's a smart strategy, but they don't trust that the villagers will care for them. (Security is a good strategy too.)

Finnick studies Reyes for a while with his famously piercing gaze.

"You seem like someone who could get the hang of it."

A glance at the nearby ground shows that the shadows are longer than he'd expected; he's been out for more time than he'd realized. "I should go. Guess I'll see you around, Reyes."

"Most likely, considering there's nowhere else to go." There's a smile to soften that cynical bite to Reyes' remark, though -- they seem to be something of kindred spirits, and they both Get It in a way that the kinder, more altruistic villagers don't. The ones that aren't always calculating possible advantages and disadvantages, the cost for each give-and-take. It's almost a relief to encounter someone else who operates just as cautiously as he does: it reminds him a bit of home.

"But it was a pleasure meeting you, Finnick."

It's even the truth. And off they go in their separate directions: the victor to the outskirts of the village, the smuggler back towards the inn at the heart of it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

things happen, that's all they ever do.

Around the village

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hrm we could poss wrap soon to clear out older scenes? ...but ugh i'm also enjoying these two

cool with me

& closed!