applesaucedream | May the odds be ever in your favor

Current Music: June 9, 2013

Entry tags:

May the odds be ever in your favor

In the dream there is a jungle. In the jungle, there is an impossible inland sea, briny like the ocean but surrounded by land on all sides. Around the sea there is a beach, and in the sea there is an island. On the island, there is a a cornucopia, a great curled golden horn with an opening that yawns twenty feet high. Around the cornucopia, land bridges stretch like spokes of a wheel from the island to the beach.

Inside the cornucopia, there are weapons. Everywhere, hidden well enough to escape the attention of all but the most carefully observant, there are cameras. Above is a false sky, an electric dome that stretches over the round expanse of jungle and disguises itself as the illusion of more jungle where it touches the ground. To touch it is to be electrocuted.

Those who hike off into the jungle may not ever reach the edge of the dome and learn how thoroughly they are trapped. An invisible, almost always intangible line extends from each of the island's spokes to the edge of the dome, a barrier between dangers for which there is no warning. Viewed from above, this round jungle begins to resemble a clock with its face divided into twelve wedges that all converge on the cornucopia. Unfortunately for the dreamers, this clock keeps time.

At the stroke of twelve, lightning strikes in the segment toward which the tail of the cornucopia points. At the strike of one, catastrophe moves clockwise and the next segment rains blood. Disaster strikes at the beginning of each hour, moving slowly but inexorably all the way around the jungle until it comes back to the beginning and starts again. Some segments represent near-inevitable death for anyone caught in them at the wrong moment, while others simply torture their captives or twist their perceptions. The beach and the island might seem to represent safety and reprieve, but some threats, like the wall of saltwater that comes crashing through the jungle at ten o'clock, reach even that haven. And though the world outside the jungle may be watching, that world is beyond the dreamers' reach. No one may pass beyond the dome except by awakening from the dream and leaving this place entirely in favor of the waking world.

Welcome to the Quarter Quell.

[Mod note: Same drill as always. All players and characters are welcome, current members or no. Characters will remember or forget any and all dream events at players' discretion. Death in the dream does not result in real death. Post your tags under the header for the section of the clock in which your thread takes place (if the thread takes place in multiple sections, put it under the header for the section in which it begins). Threads can take place at any time; note what time your thread begins when starting a new one so other players know whether the section will be active. Multiple threads per header are allowed. Dream time passes more quickly than real time (and is kind of timey wimey anyway), so feel free to subject your characters to as many or few hours as you wish.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That's funny. Those monkeys you've been seeing in the trees didn't seem aggressive before. But they aren't your average monkey; they're muttations, and they're sure aggressive, now. Dozens of them are coming out of the proverbial woodwork, and their teeth are awfully sharp. Once again, the beach is a refuge - they won't pursue you onto the sand or into the water. Anyone in the jungle, though, is fair game.

Daine finds herself standing on a beach and staring at a thick, dark jungle. A thoughtful frown tugs at the corners of her mouth, and there's a faint line between her eyebrows. Something's off. Hands akimbo, she glares at the jungle for a few moments as if she expects it to account for itself. Then she turns to look behind her, and she sees the shallow lagoon and the central island. Her stomach drops. This is familiar. It shouldn't be, but it is, and the sense of wrongness intensifies.

She strides down the beach and into the water, letting it wash around her ankles. Cold saltwater would be best, but warmer saltwater does the trick as well; it's enough of a magical boost for her to feel all the People in the surrounding jungle. And that's what's wrong. Some of the minds feel normal, healthy, but some are… it's like they're sick, or something. Her frown deepens. What's wrong with them?

Edited 2014-04-26 05:14 (UTC)

Peeta spots the figure in the water long before he gets close enough to make out who it is. He edges along just under the treeline of the jungle - but still on the beach - wary enough to seek shelter but too close to time to risk venturing inside.

When the figure begins to resemble a familiar form, Peeta's mind goes into hyperdrive trying to identify it. His first thought upon recognizing it as female is Katniss, but he quickly dismisses the idea. The girl's hair isn't dark enough, and the way she holds herself is all wrong. She doesn't register as any of the other competitors, either, which gives Peeta pause.

The nagging sense that something isn't right rises strongly in him around the same time that he realizes who the girl is. Surprised enough to forget stealth, he steps out onto the sunlit beach, machete still in hand.

"Daine?"

Daine's heading out of the water with the intention of entering the jungle to get closer to the People. Whatever's wrong with them, she can't just ignore it without trying to help.

A familiar voice stays her just as her feet find dry sand, and she looks over at Peeta in surprise. He's wearing the same thing he was when she first met him, and holding a weapon. It looks wrong in his hand, maybe because he's carrying it as if he's not used to it, or maybe because despite the stories he's told her, she doesn't associate him with battle.

But this isn't battle as she knows it. "Peeta," she says, heart sinking as the general sense of wrongness begins to make a terrible sort of sense. "Is this… are we in…?" She doesn't want to say it. She wants to be wrong.

Where Peeta was originally surprised and confused at Daine's presence in the Games, her reaction connects the dots in his mind. The feeling of wrongness he's been carrying around since he found himself in the Cornucopia suddenly makes sense: this isn't the real Games.

He meets Daine's eyes momentarily before looking away. "Yes."

Watching realization spread across Daine's face, Peeta's struck once again by the shame he felt when he first told her about the Games. His hand twitches as the sudden urge to hide the machete he's holding washes over him. Daine already knows, but having her see for herself isn't something he ever wanted.

As the shame recedes, anger flickers underneath it. No one should be pulled into the Games like this. No one should have to sit it or live through - or not a small voice says in the back of his mind.

Daine exhales, unhappy with the confirmation, but not surprised by it. She runs a hand through her curls - the humidity isn't doing her any favors, there, and she looks a bit like she's stuck a fork into a toaster - and closes the distance between them. "It's all right," she says firmly. She can tell he's not happy she's here, and she doesn't want to make him feel worse by letting her own anxieties show. "It's just a dream. We'll be fine."

Peeta shakes his head. No, it isn't okay. Even if this is a dream, even if none of the other Victors are here, the arena alone is more than capable of killing them. "We aren't safe here," he says just as firmly. "Anywhere."

Squinting against the sun, he casts a searching glance at the jungle. "We should keep moving. Now."

Edited 2014-04-26 23:36 (UTC)

Daine hesitates. It would probably be wisest to defer to Peeta's judgment, but she still can't just ignore animals in need. "There's something wrong with the People," she says, nodding toward the tree line. "Something… off. They need help."

It takes a second for Peeta - who has already taken a couple of steps down the beach - to grasp what Daine is talking about. In his current state of mind, the mention of "people" makes him think of actual humans, and he immediately goes on alert, pivoting to scan the trees. Then Daine's meaning takes hold and he quickly steps back over to her, concerned.

"No. Daine - you can't help them." Knowing Daine as he does, Peeta understands that this will be hard for her, so he lays a steadying hand on her arm. "They aren't normal animals. They're muttations. You can't - they'll just hurt you."

"I know they're not normal," she says with a frown, "but that doesn't mean they're going to hurt me. I know how to handle animals, even ill ones. Especially ill ones." Her tone takes on a pleading edge. She doesn't need Peeta's permission to do right by the People, but she'd at least like him to understand. "I can't just do nothing."

"Daine-" Peeta's tightens his grip slightly on her arm, afraid she might just take off. "This isn't your world. Things don't work the same way here. They aren't ill; they were created to be exactly the way they are. They were created to kill. You can't help them."

In desperation, Peeta moves to stand between Daine and the jungle. "Daine, don't do it," he half-pleads, half-commands.

Her frown deepens, irritation beginning to mingle with her general concern. Maybe Peeta knows his world better than she does, but she knows animals better than anyone. And it's not as if the People in New York were any different than those from home.

"I have to at least check," she says, gently twisting her arm out of his grasp and side-stepping him. "I won't go far," she adds as she heads into the jungle.

Frustrated beyond patience, Peeta lets out a short growl before taking off after Daine. Part of him wants to rail at her - is she really so arrogant in her abilities that she won't accept that he knows better than her here, of all places? Especially after everything he's told her? The larger part of him is still consumed by self-preservation, though, and he bites back all the words he wants to throw her way, knowing deep down that they won't be effective anyway. He just hopes she can learn the truth without getting them both killed in the process.

He's partially lost track of where they are - near the fog, he thinks - so he asks for clarity, "What kind of animals are you sensing here?"

The jabberjays won't hurt them, at least not physically, but he'd rather not have Daine experience them. From what she's told him of her past, it wouldn't be pleasant. The monkeys, though, or whatever animals mauled the Victors they found - escaping from those alive would be very difficult.

Daine comes to a halt ten yards past the tree line. See, she's not going far, just as she promised. "All sorts," she replies, peering into the trees. "Some birds - those feel all right - and little rodents: mice, shrews. They're fine, too. The others feel like…" she frowns thoughtfully. Their minds aren't entirely familiar to her, but they feel just a little bit like Zek's. "Primates, maybe," she hazards. "I don't think I've met anyone like them before."

Primates. The memory of the morphling dying in his arms sweeps over Peeta like a wave, and he feels his stomach turn. His grip on the machete handle is suddenly slick, and he stops to wipe his palm down the leg of his suit.

"Daine," he says in a low voice. "Daine, we need to go."

He replays the past few hours in his mind, trying to guess how close they are to the hour. Even as he calculates, he spots movement in the trees. The first monkeys appear slowly, but Peeta doesn't relax. He and Daine might have arrived after the hour has already passed, but he has the feeling they're just in time for it.

Edging closer to Daine - ready to grab her and pull her to the beach if necessary - and with one eye on the approaching monkeys, Peeta whispers. "Daine, I almost died here. These monkeys almost killed me. They did kill someone else. We need to get away from here."

"I can talk to them," Daine says as the monkeys approach. The sense of off-ness intensifies as they begin to appear out of the jungle, putting her a little in mind of Yuri's bear-self. It's as if their wild magic has been tainted, somehow.

Tree-brothers, she calls out silently, frowning in concentration. They don't just feel wrong, they feel upset. What troubles you? Who did this?

One of the monkeys peers down at her, eyes narrowed. Like most creatures encountering her for the first time, he's surprised to hear her speak. Unlike most creatures, he doesn't seem pleased, and he shifts his weight anxiously from side to side. You are not our sister, he says. Leave our jungle.

I can help you, Daine insists. If you just let me look at you--

Leave! the first monkey repeats. For a moment, she thinks he sounds almost as desperate as Peeta. No help… you… no… he shuts his eyes and drops his head as if under some kind of assault. But it's not just him - something inside all of the monkeys is changing, as if someone somewhere has flicked a giant switch. Their illness is suddenly much, much worse. She can feel them tensing, ready to spring, as Leave our jungle! echoes all around her.

As the first monkey crouches, Daine lifts a hand. "NO!" she orders with her voice and her magic, taking a step back toward Peeta and reaching for him with her other hand. He was right. They need to go. The monkeys are obeying her for now, but it's clear that they're fighting the order, snarling and screeching and making brief, aborted charges before falling back.

Peeta doesn't hesitate to grab Daine's free hand with his own and begin pulling her toward the beach. From his own experience with the creatures, he's a little surprised that Daine is able to hold them back for as long as she does. He's thankful she can, though. Even at so short a distance from the sand, they need to buy all the time they can for their escape.

More monkeys are arriving all the time; she has to spread herself thinner and thinner to contain them all. It's inevitable that a few of them start to break free of her hold and launch themselves at her and Peeta.

"Stop!" she cries before lashing out with the only weapon she has at her disposal: her magic. A monkey drops to the jungle floor, slain mid-leap. "Stop!" They're not listening. She's not even sure if they can understand her, at this point, but they aren't so far gone that her magic can't affect them. Gritting her teeth as she stumbles after Peeta, she clamps down on the monkeys, forcing them back. Get back in your trees, NOW.

It all feels so horribly familiar as Peeta runs downhill, Daine's hand in his, cutting down monkeys as they get too close. He can see the beach now, but with the monkeys closing in, pushing closer and closer against Daine's magic, he isn't sure they'll make it.

"C'mon!" he says, as much to himself as to Daine.

Daine feels every cut. There's no way for her to distance herself from the monkeys without also relinquishing her hold on them. Half-blinded by tears, she gathers up her magic into one great blast of power. GET BACK!

There are screeches of pain and fury on all sides as the monkeys closest to them fall back as if a small bomb had gone off. The ones a little farther off are less effected, but they pause and flinch, giving Daine and Peeta enough time to stumble out of the jungle and onto the beach.

Peeta doesn't stop until they're at the water. His last few steps are more like stumbles and he collapses, breathless, onto the sand, staring back at the jungle and the furious monkeys congregated at its edge.

"I told you so," he wheezes. It's without menace, but when he turns and sees Daine's face, he feels horrible. Crawling to her, he pulls her into his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Daine leans against him, shaking with adrenaline and helpless fury. "They wouldn't listen to me," she sobs into his shoulder. "They're not right." And she couldn't help them. She couldn't even stop them without hurting them.

Peeta rubs Daine's back and tries to ignore the angry howls emanating from the jungle. "I know," he says. "I'm sorry."

After a few moments, Daine leans back and gives her cheeks an impatient swipe with her sleeve. There's nothing she can do, and she hates that, but it's a place she's been before. She can't save everyone.

"Sorry," she says, unable to meet Peeta's eyes. "You were right."

Peeta can tell that the fact that Daine couldn't help the monkeys is just as troubling as the fact that there is something wrong with them. Fury and bitterness surge through him at the unfairness of their situation. Daine isn't even from his world, but this arena could have been built for her, filled with animals she can't help, animals that only want to hurt her.

She shouldn't even be here, and the thought crosses his mind that if they are dreaming, this has to be his dream. Meaning it's his fault. The very idea makes him sick, but there isn't much he can do about it now except protect her the best he can.

Hauling himself to his feet, he offers a hand to Daine. "C'mon, we should keep moving. Staying in one place for very long isn't a good idea here."

THREE

A quarter to three o'clock

Re: A quarter to three o'clock

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject