Entry tags:

ψ and we run | OTA + Closed

WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: The woods, the dojo, the lake
WHEN: Mid-to-late March
OPEN TO: All + one for Annie
WARNINGS: Possible references to Hunger Games-typical violence and PTSD

take ii | woods

ota

Finnick's been unsettled. Since he saw Moana, since the kidnapping, since the video hinting what was to come showed up on his watch. All of it reminds him of Panem. Of the Games, of the way he'd been so convinced this place was some sort of punishment for his revolutionary plans. He's taken to going back to the hatch he, Hawke, and Jessica had found while he's on his rounds of his fish traps. He hasn't seen Moana again, or any of the others who had been staying there, but that doesn't stop him looking.

He's perched in a tree near the hatch when it happens; a cloud of floating blue lights drifts out of the woods towards him. He stares for a moment, then drops out of the tree and starts to run. But the cloud is bigger than he'd thought, or maybe there's more than one, because he sees more lights ahead of him, and as they grow closer, he can see that the lights look like floating jellyfish, from barely more than a speck to the size of an actual small jellyfish, and immediately, he knows he doesn't want to be near them, doesn't want to let them touch him.

He darts to one side, but the cloud changes direction too, and drifts into him.

"Ow!"

The sting could be worse, but as he runs, trying to get away from the things, he can see that his skin has started to glow. They're going after him, like mutts, some sort of new trick of the Gamemakers, and Finnick runs for the river and despite the cold, plunges in up to his knees and starts running upstream so he doesn't leave a trail. He can't run fast, because the riverbed has rocks and other obstacles, but he keeps at it for maybe five minutes before he returns to dry land.

The creatures are left behind now, but he can hear something else ahead of him, and he stops, raising his spear in a defensive posture, and stares into the trees.

[ Finnick is in a fighting mood, warning to expect delusional belligerence. ]

several days later | dojo

ota

Finnick has gone through periods of visiting the dojo to train and preferring to practice at home. He and Annie had woven the practice mats, but he's been downplaying his training and abilities and has avoided trying to show other people his abilities. After the kidnapping and the fit of delusion that had led him to think he was back in the arena, though, Finnick's decided to return to the dojo. He warms up by running through the obstacle course, and to anyone watching, it's clear that Finnick has had practice using equipment like this. He has excellent balance, amazing upper body strength, and strong jumping and climbing skills. He runs through it several times, getting faster and faster as he goes, and leaving himself out of breath and sweating, even in the cold outside air.

After that, he moves inside and works at the training dummies or punching bags. He fights with his hands and his feet, in a style that looks something like kickboxing and something like an out and out dirty brawl. He'd been trained to attack, to fight and injure or kill in a place without any rules except stay alive. Afterwards, he stretches out on one of the sparring mats, and heads out to the shelves to over to look at the training weapons on offer. This afternoon, he hefts a sword, checking the balance, and looks over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps.

"Hey."

lake

locked to annie

It's been slow work repairing their boat. The spot on the lakeshore where Finnick and Annie had found the ruined fishing flotilla is nearly a day's walk away; they'd been unable to do any work on their boat over the deepest cold of winter. They needed to wait for the weather to warm enough for them to take their tent and sleeping bags out to the lake. They've had to repair some more damage that had been done by the weather over the winter, but they're finally ready to check the watertightness. If it's watertight, they'll be able to tow it around the lake to somewhere they can get to it more easily while they finish it.

They'll have a boat again. They'll be able to go out on the lake, and Finnick's already planning a freedive when it's warm enough.

"What do you think?" he asks Annie. "Ready to try it?"

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Bull smiles at him as he walks into the dojo. He had been watching Finnick as he went through his own practice. He nods approvingly. The guy was good at that, heck good enough to make it look easy even though Bull knows what kind of work it takes to get there.

When Finnick hefts the sword Bull gets an idea. "Want to spar?" He doesn't often do it here, figuring that his size would give him an unfair advantage against people. But on the other hand, Finnick looks like someone who can figure out a way around that advantage.

Finnick's big for someone from the districts: tall, well-muscled, fit, and most importantly, well-fed, as a child and as an adult, though his diet here is less varied and he eats less because he's relying on the food he can gather. But big for the districts is different to big for the Capitol, and both are very different from the size of Bull. But he'd been 14 when he went into the arena, and he'd fought 18 year olds, and he trusts Bull enough to believe he's not going to try to use his advantage to harm Finnick.

Finnick lets his head tip to one side, a little curious about Bull's abilities. He's big, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's good. But Finnick's interested in finding out.

"Sure," he says, gesturing towards the rack of weapons with the wooden sword he's holding. "What's your preference?"

"I was trained to being able to work with any weapon, though a great axe is my favourite." Just in case Finnick hadn't been able to figure that out from the fact that Bull carried one around everywhere. "But it is good to practice with different ones." He glances at the sword Finnick holds and then walks over to pick up one himself.

"Light contact, point fight? A touch is a point?"

"I was better with spears and knives and my tridents, but a sword is reliable." When it had really mattered, Finnick hadn't been quite developed enough to wield a great axe. He'd been strong and tall, but still fourteen, and the advantages of a good diet that came from being from District Four hadn't done what four more years of development would have to his physique.

What Bull suggests is less intense than Finnick's used to, though similar to the way fighting against a trainer works for the tributes. They can't fight each other, can't hurt each other before the spectacle begins, so they're left with the trainers, with hits taking the place of what in the arena would be a wounding blow.

Finnick nods.

"Sounds good. Nice not to have to worry about getting hit."

"Yeah, we can step it up to that if we find we're at the same level if you like. But for right now I am not in the mood for nursing anything worse than bruises."

he smiles and gives the sword a twirl in his hand. "How have you been? Been keeping busy?"

It's very clear to Nida as he watches that Finnick is even better than he would have appraised the man as being when they had met the first time. As it is, he currently just watches Finnick, silent and thoughtful, until Finnick was clearly finished. Then he moved toward the obstacle course and the man he had told himself he'd learn things from at a later point.

He looked a bit less like a kid now, older and worn, hair longer than a few months would justify, and he looks a bit tired as he nods to Finnick. Which is sad, because Nida's been getting plenty of sleep lately.

"Hey," he greets with a briefly raised hand. "You're pretty good there. Almost wondering if I can find a stop-watch function on this device so I could time you."

"I've had some practice on these," Finnick says, resting a hand on his hip as he works to steady his breath. There's still something of a competitive child's delight in the way he'd taken the course, though it's been many years since he used to run the obstacle courses at the Career Academy with the other prospective tributes. Some of them were dead now, the odds stacked against them whatever they'd once said about training making them be in the Careers' favor.

Nida looks different, aged more than he should have in the time it's been since Finnick saw him last. Finnick's well aware of what hardship can do to someone, but he doubts even this place can make hair grow that much faster than it should. He notes it, but he doesn't comment; he remembers what going away from this place had done to Johanna, back when she'd still been here, and he barely knows Nida.

"It's been a while, though, it's good to have a course."

"Agreed. Really wish I had some space to improve the thing. Climbing wall, more bars, things like that. But I don't know that my military experience measures up to what normal people would be expected to do here as an exercise."

Nida's fingers go up to card through his hair, too long and he doesn't care. He's gotten used to it and he doesn't care to get it shorter. Oh well. Not like he had battles to fight here, to worry about it getting in his eyes.

"Was that as fast as you could manage?"

"I'm not sure the people who use it are entirely 'normal' people."

In other places, in other times, the word 'military' would have been enough to close Finnick down, make his expression turn even more guarded, his eyes narrow in suspicion. But here, he's slowly learned that not every military or police force is like the Peacekeepers. He trusts his own judgment enough to know that not everybody here with those sorts of connections is like the people District Two sends to the Capitol, or the ones the Capitol sends to the districts to man their machine guns and put down their citizens.

Nida reminds him more of himself than them.

"I could probably go a little faster if I tried. But I'm a bit out of practice. Haven't done much of this since I was a kid."

There's a little falseness in the modesty, but a little honesty, too.

Since I was a kid.

Now that specific word choice gets Nida's attention more than anything else. Sure, Finnick had implied some serious training before, and had openly noted the usefulness of the trident because of the whole fishing thing as well, but Finnick hadn't implied an age before. At least, not for something like this. Because, as Finnick noted, people that were used to these things might not be considered normal.

Especially when childhood came up. Nida knew how weird his own experiences were.

"Well, you'll have the chance to get up to practice here. And if you're interested, I know some people who might teach more parkour and free running skills. Ones that I know are better than I am."

It's not often that North sits around and considers what all is happening in this part of the dojo. This was normally the part that Nida managed, and North only stepped in when someone got hurt when the dojo-master wasn't around to deal with things. And even though the man was back, he didn't seem to be invested on managing other people. Which was why North stood by thoughtfully, watching the man. Or it had been at first. Now he was watching because of an uncomfortable sense of familiarity.

The stranger moves like his sister in some ways, and North watches silently. Thoughtfully.

And with no small bit of sadness on his face.

Finnick's used to being watched. He's well aware of the performative nature of the training he's doing. He'd been a mentor for nearly ten years, and he'd taught his tributes the importance of using training as a display: to intimidate, to impress, to make the right impression on the other tributes and on the Gamemakers. And here, in this place, he's grown used to assuming he's going to be watched, by the Gamemakers or, as now, by other people.

He pauses for a moment and brushes a hand against his forehead, pushing sweat-dampened hair back. He can recognize the suggestion of sadness on the other man's face, but he chooses not to comment on it -- or to think too much about it. It's familiar, to a mentor. To the husband of a victor.

"You waiting to use anything?" he asks. The words are simple, non-confrontational. He doesn't care if the man watches him or not, but he can share if that's what the man wants.

Oh, busted. North offers a soft smile of apology before moving into the room to start the sweeping around the edges of the mats that he'd been intending to do.

"Just cleaning. I'm not that useful in a hand to hand fight. I know I should do some work for all of this, but I haven't been able to bring myself to it. Miss my training partner."

If anyone had ever told him that he'd hate having a few days without South kicking his ass, or York, well, North would have called them a liar. To their face. Loudly. With a smile that said 'you're clearly not thinking straight.'

Finnick nods. He can ... almost understand that. Not the part about missing a training partner; he trains with Annie sometimes, and he trains alone sometimes, and he used to train with dozens of other kids who wanted to go on to become what he and Annie did. He'd long told himself he trained so that he could be the best mentor possible to the tributes he was responsible for, but it was as much because it was what he was good at as anything else.

"Guess most of us don't have our training partner here. Makes me lucky that I do."

Of course, here he mostly trains alone, because Annie is too shy to want to put herself forward the way he does. They train in private, in their house or their yard, and Finnick trains here because he's spooked more and more by this place over the last months: seeing Snow's name on a list of people who died here, over and over again. Seeing himself, sharing secrets that he'd never wanted to share. Seeing Moana, fleeing into the woods and looking so wretched.

"Quite lucky," North agrees. Perhaps unlucky too, because it means someone important to you is at risk. But given the way the man was performing, North would put money on the training partner being able to take care of themselves. Which in a way was good.

He does continue his sweeping, clearly as much to keep his and Theta's minds busy as to not seem awkward.

"I trained with my twin. She'd be disappointed to see how I let myself go."

They know how to repair boats. No children of Panem's fisherfolk don't. Not the true fisherfolk, who live on the wharves and grow up on their parents' boats. Even now, Annie retains some of that lingering snobbery. Maybe even especially now, when she's been so disconnected from her roots. Or the water, which is a more apt metaphor. So while Annie's been practicing patience as they work, inside she's jumping around with all the frantic fury of a bored child: let me back onto the water!

So she doesn't actually consider the question. The first question, anyway, because she's already answering the second. Is she ready to try it?

"Yep," Annie says, with a good deal of feeling. "Only way to know for sure."

It had been a long time since Finnick had worked on repairing a boat, back in District Four when he'd been a victor with nothing better to do and had occasionally helped out with one of the fishing crews. He'd learned some things growing up, before he'd gone to the Careers and his life had changed forever, but those things had been consolidated as an adult in the aftermath of storms, when everybody had helped out with repairs because that was what it took to get the fishing fleet back in shape before the Capitol's anger at diminished catches became too much. But he'd never repaired anything that had been as broken down and dilapidated as some of the old abandoned boats they'd found in this long-ago fishing spot.

They'd taken care to select the least broken down boat, but it's still taken a lot of work, and some improvisation because they lack the specific tools and supplies they'd had in District Four. But now it finally seems ready. Finally.

He recognizes the enthusiasm in her voice. It echoes the flutter in his own chest as he grins at her. It's been so long. Too long.

"Okay, let's do this." Finnick bends down and undoes the laces of his boots to slip them off so he can pull the boat out into the water.

"You push, I'll take the line."

Sometimes, the physical difference between them is an actual asset as opposed to just being a fact. this is one of them. As the boat slides into the water, Annie watches the bottom of it intently. Once the pair of them have it floating completely on the water, she waits until Finnick as it steady and then lightly gets in. She's small enough that she makes a good first attempt: for all she's heavier then she looks, she's half Finnick's size.

"Floats decent," Annie says, glancing up briefly. Trying to be cool, calm, collected. Patient.

This isn't the sea, but it's close enough. It's water, it's a proper boat, and-

"Some water at the bottom. From when I got in, or-?"

It's not as if getting in a row boat on a river is easy, or a particularly dry endeavor.

They've gotten good over the years at doing this, using her lightness and agility and his strength to work together. They'd done that back in Panem, before they'd come here, but they've faced more of the sort of challenges that needed that collaboration here, where they face the daily struggle of survival against nature and the Gamemakers alike.

"It's a good start," he says, eyeing where the waterline is, and how she sits, then he takes a few steps closer and grabs onto the prow.

"I don't think you brought much in with you, that was pretty smooth."

It's hard to see if more water is coming in or not.

"You think it's rising?"

Still, even now, his that was pretty smooth makes her smile. Just a little, but it's always nice to hear she did a good job. That he thinks she did. That he said so, even over something like this. She doesn't let it distract her, as once she might have, but it's nice.

"I can't... tell," is Annie's reply. "We should test it further."

Which is.... Well, yes, it's something that they need to do it. Even now, here, they shouldn't waste resources. If they don't need to fix the boat further, then they shouldn't.

But mostly?

She just wants to go out on the water, properly. And if she has to bail out of the boat and dry off, then that's just the price. And she's willing to pay it. And from the glint in her eyes, and the dimples starting to appear in her cheeks, it's very easy to read her mood.

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ψ and we run | OTA + Closed

take ii | woods

several days later | dojo

lake

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Dojo - Obstacle Course

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Dojo - Dirty Fighting

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