Swept Up [Gander / Althea blitz]

G A N D E R

Althea Perch had kept her word these past few years. He’d admittedly had his reservations about her over the man that’d run five years ago. Which was probably more to do with his father’s influence on what made a person fit to be a leader and less on Althea’s ability to lead. He’d also been lulled into the promise of friendship by Cove, but ultimately had come to the conclusion that leadership was far more important than sitting down to have a drink with someone.

She greeted him like an old comrade, and he returned it with a head nod. The last five years had been unremarkable, but he felt as though that was far better than some of the other districts had managed. Sailors spoke of explosions in six and fires in eleven. The worst they’d had were a few bad storms that had blown some roofs off the houses on their island, which was an easy enough fix (or not, if you just preferred to keep buckets out to catch the rainwater).

“So more it was,” Gander nodded again in agreement. “Kept yer word’n much obliged. ‘Cept…”

He furrowed his brow as the gears turned. “Snow stiff as a poker now, ‘n ‘spose means we gettin’ some-odd new, yeh?” That the one man who’d held Panem together died hadn’t brought a single moment of grief to the island, but it did have them wondering what the next five years would look like. “Feels tho we gotta new storm comin’, ‘n tah islanders don’t want tah be left out’n tah cold when it does.”

G A N D E R

Gander wasn’t one to be greedy. Their lives were self-sufficient on the island. It was baked into their skin under the heat of the sun, and between the waves that crashed on the shore. An islander was expected to find their own way; it made them stronger to know what it was like to live alone, especially if they were stuck at sea by themselves. Then, when they’d returned they’d be even stronger together, with those who had his back but knew what it meant to go it alone.

Still, when Althea offered that the world wouldn’t come to threaten their shores, she didn’t stop there. She offered up something more, as though the island could have more of a voice than they’d ever had. He wasn’t sure what to say. His father had always advocated neutrality in any mainland affairs, and the rest of the islanders seemed disinterested in making their lives easier in exchange for anything they could offer.

But he was part of a newer generation, one that could see little bits and pieces on the island might’ve gotten better if they let in just a fraction of what the mainland had.

“Yah, sees you offer, obliged tah think we’s gotta better fleet, least wit ‘o engines going now and again. Trade’n more ‘n a bit than we do. N’ a doctor tah come tah us, now’n ‘gain.” He listed out a few priorities as though he’d appointed himself head of the Rock.

“Storms comin’, one way ‘r nudder.” He replied, voice low.