May the odds be ever in your favor

[applesaucemod]

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.]

Comments

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta reaches out and places a steadying hand on Daine's shoulder. "If they are trapped, you won't be able to help them," he tells her. "When an area of the jungle becomes active, an invisible barrier rises around it to keep whatever - whoever - is there inside."

[wildmage_daine]

"But…" she winces as more birds strike the barrier. There are so many of them now that it's impossible for them all to avoid it, even if she tried to steer them away (at which point they might very well end up crashing into each other).

Please, calm down! If she could get some of them to stop zipping around and just land for a few minutes, maybe that would give the rest of them enough space to avoid the barrier.

Daine! It's not Cloud. It can't be Cloud. But the bird's voice sounds just like her, and Daine stiffens. Daine, I can't find you!

"No." Daine sits down hard on the sand, letting the bow drop so she can cradle her head in her hands.

You left us, a bird accuses in Brokefang's voice. The Pack needed you, and you left.

She squeezes her eyes shut. Why are you saying these things?

This is all your fault. Spots. You should have listened to me. Cloud, again. You abandoned her. Kitten's ma. Daine clamps her hands over her ears, but it doesn't make any difference. The voices are in her mind.

[peeta_mellark]

At first, Peeta's confused. Even for someone so close to animals, Daine's reaction seems extreme. He doubts whatever animals she senses are in danger from one another; the Gamekeepers wouldn't waste animals that way. When she covers her ears, though, Peeta understands.

"Don't listen to them, Daine," he says, dropping to his knees in the sand beside her. He places his hands on her shoulders. "Whatever you're hearing, it isn't real." He can't hear anything himself, but he knows what's happening - Daine hears the jabberjays.

[wildmage_daine]

Peeta's words barely register; the cacophony in her mind is far too loud. And she knows it's not real. "It's true, though," she says, giving Peeta a haunted look. "They're right."

You left us, chorus the achingly familiar voices from home. Zek. Rider ponies. Her stomach drops as some of the birds start to mimic the voices of her two-legger friends, Onua and their majesties, Alanna and George. Numair. You left us you left us you left us.

[peeta_mellark]

If Daine can hear the jabberjays from outside their part of the jungle, there is nowhere they can go in the arena where she will be safe from their words. Helpless once again, Peeta does the only thing he can. Wrapping his arms around Daine, he tries to drown out whatever she might be hearing with his own voice.

"You're fine," he tells her, "they aren't real. This is just a dream. Nothing they say is true. No one is here but you and me." On and on he goes, and endless stream of chatter. He can only hope it is helps.

[wildmage_daine]

She could stop it - she should stop it. She knows how to cut the People out of her mind entirely. But as awful as their words are, she clings to their voices. Goddess, what she wouldn't give to have Cloud properly scolding her for going off through the trees and getting swallowed up by the rift…

But before too long, Peeta's voice starts to cut through the jumble. He's right. It's not real. Gritting her teeth, she throws up her mental shields. The jays' voices are cut off, and hundreds of pinpricks of copper fire are abruptly doused. Now, she's as unaware of the People in the arena as any other two-legger would be.

She pulls in a shuddering breath, then drops her hands from her head. "I… I'm okay," she says. "I turned it off."

[peeta_mellark]

At Daine's voice, Peeta goes silent. He pulls back, but doesn't let go of her entirely. He can still see the ghosts of what she was hearing in her eyes and his own chest aches in sympathy.

"Daine?" He bites down the instinct to ask if she's okay; of course she isn't. Instead, her names hangs as its own inquiry.

[wildmage_daine]

"I'm okay," she says again, with a bit more conviction. Peeta has enough to worry about here without fussing over her. She lifts a hand and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I can put up shields if I need to, up here," she adds, tapping her temple for emphasis. "I can't hear them anymore."

She doesn't like to think about what's still happening out there while she turns a deaf ear, but this isn't the first time she's been forced to block out the People's suffering, and it probably won't be the last.

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta can tell she's still upset, despite her assurances. "It'll only last an hour," he says. He isn't sure if he means that she won't be able to hear the jays anymore, or that she'll be able to listen again. He suspects she'd invite both.

Sitting back on his haunches, he glances at the jungle nearest them. For now, at least, it will be safe. "We can rest for a while, if you'd like," he offers.

[wildmage_daine]

Daine nods gratefully at the suggestion. It's not hard for her to keep the shields up. She's done it plenty of times before. But given how many of the dangers here seem to involve the People, she'd rather stay put until she can listen properly again.

"Probably a good idea," she says, retrieving the bow and brushing the sand off of it. "And I'd best try this out, now that we've got a few minutes." New weapons usually take some getting used to, and she'd rather figure out this one's quirks when they're not in immediate danger.

Getting to her feet, she pulls out an arrow and looks for an appropriate target that isn't too far off. About twenty yards down the beach, there's a palm tree that's ventured far enough from the jungle cover to stand out. That'll do it. Daine retrieves an arrow and sets it to the bow, then slowly draws back the string. It still feels too easy, but what matters most is that it works. She aims carefully - if she misses, better to have it hit the sand then disappear into the greenery - then looses.

The arrow, strange as it is, still flies well enough. It strikes a glancing blow on the trunk of the palm tree, then buries itself in the sand another five yards down the beach. Daine frowns thoughtfully. "My longbow would be better," she says, "but at least it works." She pulls out another arrow and tries again, this time hitting the trunk squarely.

[peeta_mellark]

It's strange, watching Daine shoot. She doesn't look like Katniss - she holds the bow differently, holds herself differently - but there's something in the motion of a bow being drawn that always reminds him of Katniss. He can see both of them at the same time, in eye and mind: notching the arrow, drawing the string, letting it fly. That they're in the arena doesn't help; it's nothing but memories for him here.

He sits to the side, back to the water, as Daine practices, and tries not to think too much about anything.

[wildmage_daine]

It takes her some time to feel as if she's truly got the measure of the strange bow and arrows. She winds up with about half her quiver's contents buried in the palm tree by the end of it, and then she strides down the beach to collect the one that went astray and pry the others out of the trunk. One's buried deep enough that she ends up needing to use her knife to help pry it loose.

"You were right about needing the knife," she calls back to Peeta, sounding about as cheerful as she has been since she got here. There's just something reassuring about having a working bow in her hands again, despite the gravity of the situation. And the distraction is helping her deal with the eerie silence in her mind. She's made it a rule in the past to turn her magic off while hunting, so shooting with her shields up is strangely restful, like rereading a book you practically know by heart.

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta hasn't found the same peace in their rest that Daine has. The longer they go without meeting anyone - or anything - else, the more he's certain something is going to happen. As Daine frees her arrows from the tree, Peeta stands and dust himself off.

"It should probably be getting close to the end of the hour," he calls. "We should get moving again soon." They need to find water, and food. Or maybe they don't need to; it's just a dream, after all.

[wildmage_daine]

"What if we doubled back?" she suggests as she walks over to him. "If we keep heading the way we were before, we've got the clock chasing us the whole time." Plus, if they head back, she might be able to check for injured jays.

[peeta_mellark]

If they continue heading in the opposite direction, they'll eventually run back into the clock. But Peeta can guess the main reason Daine wants to double back, and he nods in agreement. "Okay."

Sheathing his machete, he starts walking back along the beach.

[wildmage_daine]

Call Daine optimistic, but she's sort of assuming they're going to wake up before it really feels as if twelve hours have passed.

When they reach the section of beach that she's fairly sure corresponds with the jays, she tries carefully lowering her mental shields. It's far quieter than it was, but after the self-imposed silence, the pain and confusion of the injured jays still hits hard enough to make her wince. "I think they're done," she tells Peeta, "but some of them are hurt." She hesitates there, wanting to head right into the trees - it feels safe enough to her - but aware that Peeta doubtless knows more than she does about what to expect.

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta smiles slightly to himself when Daine stops. He was right, after all. He's sure he's right about why she hasn't barged right into the trees after the injured birds.

"It should be safe," he assures her. "There's only one trap in each area, and this one's time is done for now." To back up his words, he walks toward the treeline.

[wildmage_daine]

That's some relief, and Daine ends up passing Peeta in her haste to get to the injured birds. Many didn't make it at all, and the line where the barrier used to be is lined with little feathered bodies. Daine presses her lips together in a thin line, but resolutely focuses on the ones she can still help. She stoops to gently lift one into her hands, then looks around for someplace to sit while those mobile enough to come to her make their way over.

"It'll be fair boring to watch," she warns Peeta as she makes herself comfortable between the roots of a large tree. "And it might take a while." Perhaps not because the individual jobs will be difficult, but because there are just so many of them. She sighs down at the jay in her hands - it blinks up at her trustingly, no longer screaming at her in achingly familiar voices - and then shuts her eyes and gets to work.

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta can't imagine a situation in which watching someone heal animals with nothing more than their hands would be boring. He finds a place where he can keep Daine and the path back to the beach in sight and settles down to watch and wait.

It's fascinating to watch Daine work. There isn't really anything to see - a bird reaches her injured and leaves healed - but the fact that there isn't anything visible to the process is what's so interesting.

[wildmage_daine]

She was correct in her predictions. The injuries aren't too complicated and are easy to fix, particularly because they're too fresh for any infections to have set in. Few even have broken bones, doubtless because so many birds struck the barrier head-on and died on impact. That's bad enough, but it does mean the birds still alive to be treated aren't too badly off to begin with.

There are a lot of injured jays, though, and by the time the last one flies off with a chirrup of gratitude, the better part of an hour has gone by. Daine blinks her eyes open, then stretches. She's been hunched over her charges for long enough that her back's a bit sore.

When she realizes Peeta's watching her - and might have been for some time, given how he's sitting - she smiles faintly. She's not quite sure if she should be flattered by the interest or baffled by it. "I did say it'd be boring," she says.

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta raises his eyebrows at her. "I don't understand how you can think that" - he waves a hand in her general direction - "is boring. You're healing animals. With just your hands."

He'd watched, fascinated, as bird after visibly injured bird came to her, sat in her hands for a little while, then flew away as good as new. No matter how many Daine healed - and there were quite a few - Peeta never failed to feel a little thrill each time one took off, chirping happily.

Feeling that they should probably start moving again, he hauls himself to his feet.

[wildmage_daine]

Daine lifts her shoulders in a little shrug, though her smile widens. "Well, it's not much to watch," she says as she gets to her own feet and brushes off the back of her pants. "You ought to see some of things regular mages can do," she adds as she retrieves her bow and slings it over her shoulder. "They're much flashier."

[peeta_mellark]

"I don't really like flashy," Pete says. In his experience, flashiness was never a good thing.

Giving the surrounding jungle a weary glance, he sighs. "Back to the beach? Or we can walk through the jungle for a while, if you want. Look for food, get some water." There was a spile in the bag he picked up at the Cornucopia, so that won't be a problem.

[wildmage_daine]

Technically, neither of them should need food or water, but healing is hungry work, and it's a hot jungle. "Food and water would be nice," she says, scraping a few damp curls off of her forehead. "And I'm not feeling anything strange about the People around here, so we should be all right as far as they're concerned."

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta nods and begins walking. It shouldn't take long to find one of the water trees, and he keeps an eye out for any other familiar ones; he remembers a few that bore edible fruit.

They haven't progressed far past the line of dead jabberjays, but the trees have thinned enough that Peeta's forced to walk a bit farther up the slope to check for ones he recognizes. "There are trees here that have water in them," he throws over his shoulder to Daine as an explanation for their climb. "Actually, they're the only source of drinkable water."