applesaucedream | May the odds be ever in your favor

Current Music: June 9, 2013

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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.]

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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."

Daine lets Peeta pull her to her feet, then casts a haunted look at the tree line. "Okay." Part of her hates the idea of turning her back on the creatures, but part of her is eager to put as much distance between herself and their misshapen minds as she can.

She follows Peeta along the beach in sober silence for a minute, then quietly asks, "Have you seen anyone else here?" She's not sure if they should be watching out for fellow dreamers or for fellow competitors - or both.

"No." He isn't sure whether that concerns him or pleases him. Could it be that there are other people here, and they're just waiting for the right time to strike, for him to relax? He hates the idea of having to fight for his life against other people, but even more than that he hates the idea that he might have drawn even more people into his dream, into this. "Have you?"

Daine shakes her head. "I haven't been here that long, but no." She eyes Peeta's machete, wondering if she's going to need a bow. "Where did you get that?" she asks.

This time, at least, Peeta doesn't feel the immediate urge to hide the machete. "The Cornucopia," he replies, pointing toward it.

She looks across the water at the giant structure. "Do you think there's a bow out there?" She doesn't like the thought of having to use one, either against another person or one of the People, but she can no longer take it for granted that she won't need a weapon of her own besides her magic.

The mention of a bow blindsides him for a moment, images of Katniss firing arrows swimming through his head, but he pulls himself together quickly enough and nods. "Probably. Want to go check?" he asks, stopping in line with the nearest land bridge.

It is Daine's weapon of choice, though her bow doubtless bears little resemblance to the ones on offer. "I expect we should," she says glumly as she starts across the land bridge. Even if it winds up not being needful, at least Peeta won't have to be the only one of them carrying a weapon.

There's no one in the cornucopia when they arrive, and Daine gapes at all the weaponry available. Plenty of folk back home have seen battle - her more than most - but the knowledge that all these weapons are intended to be used by unwilling participants in a fight to the death turns her stomach. There is a bow, though, prominently displayed as if it was waiting for her. She hurries over to it and picks it up, swinging a quiver of arrows over her shoulder with practiced ease. It's a fair strange bow, lighter than her own and made of a material that isn't wood, but she hefts it and decides the balance is good enough.

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