down by the river

[treadswater]

WHO: Annie Cresta
WHERE: by the river
WHEN: 17th November
OPEN TO: Jo Harvelle
WARNINGS: TBA
STATUS: Closed | Ongoing

---

Even without Finnick having found one of the slaughtered animals, the two District Four Careers would have been sticking close. Animal after animal, killed and left in the open: it's a threat. But threats don't magically disappear just because one needs food. Quite the opposite, in fact. So rather than hiding and using up their stores, Annie and Finnick are fishing. Still. Again. Leaving some at the inn and then slinking away.

And, always, they are within sight of the other.

Today, Annie is checking and repairing traps as Finnick is further upstream, spear in hand. Even as she works, twisting reeds and weaving them to fill in holes, she's keeping her eyes and ears alert.

It's hard. She's not feeling vague today, but stress makes her distracted when it doesn't send her spiralling into such a high alertness it is like being vague from the other direction.

At least, she's better camouflaged than otherwise she might be. Those denim overalls, that dark coat. Her red hair is mostly shoved down the back of her neck under her coat, but it's messy, strands falling free from the rough ponytail.

Comments

[treadswater]

Annie nods. Another data point. Another act in a whole which adds up to something, if you factor in the context. The context of:

There aren't many buildings to house a number of people, and from what she can see of the people in the village, they are trying to stick together. Work together. They've built up their gatherings and their habits, centred around the Inn always, their field usually.

Their refusal to leave means: they aren't going to be scared off.

"You think that's wise? Or, would leavin' be a worse choice?" Annie asks. Casually. No judgement, either way. It's too early to see what would be a mistake.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo lets herself be taken in, and pretends it doesn't feel like every words is gone over with a fine-tooth comb.

Even when it has to be. Jo has the time to spend non-invested, or at least appearing it for hours a day, at work, or watching people go about their own self-appointed daily tasks, and paying attention or processing when she wants, while these people only get interaction at certain intervals. No one forces them more than they're ready or willing.

She blew out of a stream of breath, that fogged white and cloudy in front of her mouth and face, at the question, before choosing an honest answer. The same way she'd chosen honest for Margaery last night. "I don't think any of them are safer than the others right now. The Inn. The houses." A small beat, and a glance over, that was neither an apology, nor an attack. "The forest."

"I think they're making it clear they can get at anyone or anywhere they want, without any hint of warning, with the animals as examples--" Jo'd had time to think about things she hadn't given what had all happened. "--especially as they get bigger, and more capable than most any one person here could."

[treadswater]

She doesn't say anything about, do people need a reminder? It is always the name of the game, reminding. And this woman is too sharp-eyed, too victor-poised to need any reminder. The others, maybe, some of them. She thinks of Margaery, kind as the woman is - or kind as she appears.

"The forest is safer from other people," Annie says instead. Explanation, nothing defensive. A bit apologetic, though. In this arena, people seem to take as an insult most of the time, being seen as a threat to life and limb and victory.

Then she looks at Jo again, closely.

"Maybe people are getting too comfortable. Or maybe winter's boring."