bigapplesauce | Wake-Up Call [Closed]

Current Music: June 9th, 2013 (post dream party)

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Wake-Up Call [Closed]

Daine wakes with a start, heart pounding and gasping for air. The first few breaths are difficult, and it takes her a moment to dispel the memory of that choking liquid mud and realize the real reason her lungs feel sluggish: Sarge's head is resting on her chest.

Daine? She can feel his worry as he lifts his head and steps back a pace to look at her and sniff at her face. You're awake?

Good. That's Shadow, and a moment later, a rough feline tongue scrapes against her forehead. He's crouched beside her on her pillow, and she can feel the familiar shift of Molly's body along her side. She's in her room. It was just a dream - a nightmare - but it's over.

One slow breath, then another. Molly shoves her head beneath Daine's hand, and she gives the dog a comforting scratch. Okay. She's okay. None of it was real, not the monkeys or the drowning, and Peeta--

Wait. Is Peeta awake, or is he still in that gods-cursed arena?

Daine sits up sharply, earning a soft meow of complaint from Shadow. I have to wake Peeta, she says, swinging her legs off the bed and lurching to her feet. Her head swims for a moment, then clears as Sarge leans against her left side and Molly hops off the bed to press against her right. We have to wake him up now.

She's at his door in less than a minute, not having bothered with shoes (or with anything else that would have slowed her down). Sarge and Molly are at her side, and Shadow is bringing up the rear as if he coincidentally felt like taking a stroll in the same general direction. "Peeta?" She raps her knuckles against the wood, then pauses to listen for a response. Nothing. "Peeta, are you up?" Another pause. She thinks she hears something this time, a quiet sound of distress.

No more knocking. Daine tries the doorknob, finds it locked, and lets out a frustrated huff. Fine. She'll do this the hard way.

She can't shift completely - not without wrecking her clothes - but she can still give herself the head and shoulders of a bighorn sheep. Her collar digs into her neck a little, but she doesn't care. Daine backs up a pace, then slams her newly fortified skull against the door. There's a crunch that masks the faint tearing sound of her collar giving way, then the lock splinters and the door swings open, juddering a little from the impact. Her head snaps back to normal as she stumbles inside and makes a beeline for his bed.

"Peeta!"

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Daine glances up with a smile. "Most animals only have so much patience for this sort of thing," she explains as she wraps a band-aid around his thumb. "Back before I really learned how to use my magic, I had to do my healing with splints and bandages like everyone else." And there was only so much soothing she could do for a creature that was in pain. It was best to work quickly to minimize the animal's discomfort (and give it less time to lash out at her in pain or frustration).

She finishes up his other hand, then sits back with a little sigh. "There you are. That should keep you from getting any infections." The wounds themselves are superficial enough that he could probably take the band-aids off in a day or so and be fine.

Molly wriggles over and gives Daine's elbow a nudge in a silent request for attention. As Daine pets the dog, she debates whether or not to let the dream drop entirely, or to voice a suspicion that's been sitting in the back of her mind for a while, now. Then she looks at the clock again and decides she'd best ask about it, because it might be important.

"That… bog thing. Do you know what it was? Have you ever seen anything like it before?"

Peeta nods. Injured animals can be unpredictable at best, dangerous at worst. It makes sense that Daine would have learned to be quick with her bandaging.

He shakes his head at her question, frowning slightly. "No, I haven't. I never went in that section of the jungle." He can't help but wonder what was in the other areas he never saw.

She'd thought as much, and she nods once. "Have you ever dreamed about anything like that before?" she asks.

His frown deepens. It feels like there's more to Daine's questions than just simple curiosity. "What do you mean? Have I dreamed about the arena before, or that" - he waves a bandaged hand ineffectually - "sand stuff?"

"The sand stuff." It probably goes without saying that he's dreamed about the arena before. "It's just…" she sighs and runs a hand through her hair, wondering how best to explain it. She's pretty sure Peeta's not going to like it if her suspicions are correct, even if it does mean that this really wasn't his fault.

"Every so often, there's a sort of… big dream. One where you're likely to run into other rifties, because a lot of them are there. It's less like you're in one person's dream, or like they're in yours, and more like… like everyone is in the rift's dream, or something. And if you've never dreamed about that kind of sand stuff before, and neither have I… it had to come from somewhere. I've brought things from my world into other folk's dreams before, but it was always things I knew about." So if the bog wasn't her doing, and it wasn't Peeta's doing… maybe it wasn't really Peeta's nightmare.

Which, if it's true, might mean that the nightmare is still happening out there, just waiting to pull them back in as soon as they fall asleep again.

"Wait, wait." Peeta rubs his forehead before dropping his hand into his lap, wincing slightly when a cut twinges at the landing.

"So you're saying the arena may not have been my dream because there was something in it that I didn't know about and you didn't know about? It's some sort of dream the rift made?" The dread hits him before the understanding does, and he's on his feet before the conscious decision to stand registers, chest tight with anxiety. "Does that mean other people could still be stuck in there?" Peeta has never hated the rift as much as he does in this moment, faced with the possibility that it might, even now, have people stuck in a dream version of the Games.

He sits down hard on the bed as another thought occurs to him. "Could we wind up back there if we fall asleep again? How long do these dreams normally last?" He doesn't want to go back, but maybe he should, if other people are there. He could help them. Like you helped Daine? a small voice in the back of his mind asks. He shakes his head slightly and avoids Daine's eyes.

Daine shifts when Peeta stands, wondering if he's about to go bolting down the hall and waking everyone. Not that it would necessarily help much; most of the rifties in the city aren't living down in the base. Maybe he's thinking along the same lines, because he sits back down a moment later.

"I don't know," she says, reaching out to rest a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Maybe." There's no telling for certain just how long these things last in reality, but considering how long she was asleep before she woke up, and how many hours seemed to pass in the dream, it seems likely to her that if it is a rift thing, it's still going on.

"We could sleep in shifts," she suggests, pulling her hand back and clenching them both in her lap. "Then if one of us started getting fitful, the other could wake 'em up."

Peeta frowns at Daine's mention of sleep before he catches a glimpse of the clock by his bed. They weren't asleep nearly as long as he'd thought, and it wouldn't make sense for them to stay up the rest on the night, avoiding sleep on the off chance that they might wind up back in the dream. Still, the thought of sleep isn't completely welcoming, and he nods in approval of Daine's suggestion.

"Good idea."

He's torn between offering to stay awake first and avoid the possibility of the dream, or sleep first with the hope that he might be able to help other dreamers. He feels too wired and edgy to sleep, though, and would prefer some time to think about what happened, anyway.

"You can sleep first, if you want," he offers Daine, before it hits him that she might not be too eager to go back to sleep either. He rarely sought sleep again on those nights he woke from nightmares about dying; he wouldn't be surprised if she feels the same.

"Okay," Daine agrees. She doesn't much want to end up back in the arena, but better her than him, as far as she's concerned. If she does end up back in the nightmare, she can just stay on the beach - and if she sees any tidal waves, she'll take bird shape. It won't be pleasant, but she thinks she knows enough now to live through it.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," she adds as she scoots back toward the wall and lies down. Molly stretches out alongside her with a sigh of contentment, tail thumping against the sheets. "And if I get upset, the dogs will be able to tell for certain."

Not just the dogs, Shadow says with a faint trace of resentment as he leaps down from the desk and onto the bed. He kneads Peeta's pillow for a moment, leaving behind a few paw-sized dents before clambering over Daine and curling up in the crook of her knees.

Yes, you too, Daine replies before shutting her eyes. She can feel Shadow purring - no hard feelings, it seems - and Molly's familiar form beside her. Perhaps its not surprise that she ends up relaxing despite the threat of a continuing nightmare.

Peeta's a little surprised at how quickly Daine agrees to take the first sleeping shift, and he eyes her searchingly as she makes herself comfortable. He's fairly certain he understands her reasons, and he appreciates them even if he finds them unnecessary.

Once Shadow is clear of the other pillow, Peeta pushes it against the headboard and leans back against it beside Daine. The struggles of the nightmare are still too fresh in his mind for him to completely relax. He stares at the walls for a while, feeling restless and hollow, before spotting his sketchpad on the bedside table. Drawing has always served as a ready distraction, but when he opens the pad to the first blank page, he finds his mind just as empty. The only image he can seem to pull up is Daine disappearing beneath the ground.

He glances over to check on her, a little surprised to find that she has already nodded off. He watches her for a few minutes as her features soften and her breathing slows. Molly twitches gently beside her, and Daine's closest hand flexes gently as if in sympathy or comfort. The glow from the lamp highlights the different shades in Daine's hair and makes Shadow's eyes - barely more than slits as he watches Peeta with that cat-specific mix of curiosity and disinterest - sparkle mysteriously. Peeta's hands long for colors to work with, but he makes do with pencil, sketching out the scene with sure, steady strokes. Daine shifts a few times in her sleep before he's done, but the initial image was so strong that he doesn't need the reference much past the initial stages.

It's just past five when he comes to himself again. The sketch is closer to an actual drawing now, and he can feel the ache in his shoulders from sitting in such an awkward position for so long. He can also feel the lack of sleep - and of restful sleep - catching up to him.

Setting aside the pad, he checks on Daine again. She still looks peaceful, even more so than when she first lay down, and he decides he can risk resting his eyes for a moment. Careful not to wake her - or to disturb Sarge, who has joined the group on the bed - he inches down into more of a reclining state and closes his eyes.

A few minutes later, he's sound asleep.

Daine is no stranger to sharing her bed with a few other warm bodies. Human is a new one - her bedfellows have traditionally just been any animals who felt like joining her and could fly or climb through her perpetually open window (or wriggle into her bedroll whenever she was on the road) - but Peeta's presence doesn't trouble her any more than Sarge's or Molly's.

Of course, when you share your bed with two dogs and a cat, a fair amount of shifting around tends to occur, and the bed isn't quite big enough for Peeta to be left entirely out of it. By the time eight AM rolls around, Shadow is occupying Daine's pillow, and Daine's head is on Peeta's chest, one of her arms slung haphazardly over his stomach. Her shins are pressed against Sarge, who's curled up at the foot of the bed, and Molly is comfortably sandwiched between the curve of Sarge's spine and Peeta's legs.

Shadow stretches. Normally, Daine would have been up before now, but it only seemed fair to let her sleep in a little. Now, though, he figures he'd best wake them lest she get too far behind her usual schedule. He sits up and eyes the sleepers for a few moments, then casually reaches out a paw and delivers five rapid-fire bats to Peeta's nose.

Peeta fights waking. He's in a dream - something happy and comforting - the details of which slip away as fast as he tries to hold on to them. He surfaces from sleep feeling slightly annoyed, his subconscious protesting being pulled out of what he already can't recall.

When he opens his eyes, he's confused at first at the ceiling above him, though he doesn't know why. It takes a moment before he's fully in himself again and aware of where he is and why - his room, the base, New York, the rift. He lets out a sigh and is surprised by the weight on his chest. He's even more surprised - and confused again - when he discovers that the weight is someone's head. Then the night's events flood back to him and he relaxes. It's just Daine.

A glance around also reveals Shadow, staring at him from Daine's pillow. Molly and Sarge are cocooned at the end of the bed between his and Daine's legs, and how they all managed to fit on the bed without anyone falling off in the night is a mystery. Almost every square inch of the mattress is occupied by human or animal, or both. Lying there in the warm pile is unexpectedly comfortable, though, and Peeta makes no effort to remove himself. After the nightmare, it's nice to wake up with everyone safe and nearby.

He's tempted to let Daine sleep, but he knows her to be an early riser and after checking the time, he decides he'd best wake her.

"Daine," he calls. "Daine, wake up."

At Peeta's voice, she wakens almost instantly. Prior to coming through the rift, a wake-up call meant that you got up fast. Lives depended on it - or might depend on it, so she treated every wake-up call as something urgent. All the Riders did.

Life in Manhattan isn't half so strenuous in that regard, but old habits die hard. Daine sits up sharply before she even registers where she is, prompting Shadow to make a hasty (to the point of undignified) leap off of the bed. "Oh." She blinks at the cat as he stalks to the middle of the floor and commences grooming himself in a generally offended manner. Then she looks down at Peeta, belatedly realizing that the warm body she'd been pillowed against wasn't Sarge. "Sorry," she says sheepishly, scraping her hair back. "Must've thought you wa- were one of the dogs."

Which, now that she's said it, doesn't sound like the most flattering thing in the world. It's no insult from her perspective, but Peeta's not Edgar. Best to change the subject, which is easy when she actually glances at the clock and sees what time it is. What happened to sleeping in shifts? "Did you sleep?" she asks him, brow furrowed.

Peeta doesn't take offense to being mistaken for a dog; he understands enough about Daine to know that might be the greatest compliment she could give. And he's pleased that she's that comfortable around him.

He nods in response to her question. "Yeah. I fell asleep a little after five, I think. I didn't mean to," he adds, remembering about the plan to sleep in shifts. Now it's his turn to frown. He pulls himself up into a sitting position. "You didn't wind up back in the dream, did you?"

Daine shakes her head as she shifts into a more comfortable position, giving Sarge a bit more room to work with. He stretches, yawns, and plunks his head into Daine's lap, tail wagging. "No," she says as she rubs Sarge's ears. "I don't really remember what I dreamed about, but I expect I'd remember if I ended up back there. What about you?"

"I dreamed about something," Peeta replies, frown deepening in thought, "but I can't remember what. It wasn't the Games, though. It was something" - the faintest feelings echo inside him - "happy. Or at least not unhappy."

"Good," Daine says, relaxing a little. It doesn't occur to her that her presence had anything to do with it; she's just glad he was spared any further time in the arena. "You earned something nice," she adds, the corners of her mouth turning upwards into a faint smile.

Molly, not wanting to be left out of the morning snuggles, rolls back onto her chest so she can wriggle up the bed and into Peeta's lap.

For what it's worth, Peeta doesn't think to attribute his peaceful sleep to Daine, or vice versa. He just assumes the rift was done with them for the night and let them be. "You deserved something nice after dying," he returns, tone both teasing and solemn.

He smiles when Molly all but flops into his lap. He's giving her back a good rub when a thought occurs to him.

"Do - do animals dream?" he asks Daine, concern shadowing his face. "Have any of your animals been dragged into the dreaming, too?"

She lifts a shoulder, not really wanting to think about it - or wanting Peeta to think about it, either. Bad enough that they both went through it once without dwelling on it now that it's over.

"They do," she says, but she's quick to add, "I've never seen them in the dreaming, though. I think maybe it only happens to those who came through the rift. I've seen Almondine in the dreaming before, but that's all." She dreams of the People fairly often, but those are just normal dreams, far as she can tell.

Peeta's brief moment of relief is spoiled by the thought of Almondine in his nightmares or, even worse, Edgar. The idea makes him feel slightly sick. There isn't anything he can do to stop it, though.

"Well, we made it through this one, at least," he says, trying not to think about how often he dreams of the Games. If anything, the fact that no one has turned up in those dreams before last night should be encouraging.

"They're not always bad," she says. He looks like he needs to hear it. "The big dreams, I mean. They can be nice. And if it's your dream, sometimes you can change it." Or someone else can. She hasn't had much luck with such things, herself - when she changed Andrew's dream, it was definitely for the worse - but at least she knows it's possible.

He's never been able to change his dreams before, no matter how hard he wished against (or for) something. But maybe that's different here, too. "I'll keep that in mind."

He'd be content to sit there the rest of the morning, petting Molly and avoiding all thoughts about dreams, but just then his stomach growls. Loudly.

That audible grumble earns him a grin. "I s'pose we should all get breakfast," Daine says. Sarge perks at the mention of food, and a moment later, he launches himself off the bed with graceless enthusiasm (Shadow stiffens and glares, but doesn't actually move) and goes to stand by the door, tail wagging.

"And change," Daine adds, fingering the tear in her collar. It's not big enough to be indecent, but she's still in the habit of putting real clothes on before heading to breakfast.

Molly hops down to join Sarge by the door, and Peeta stands, stretching out kinks in his shoulders and back. He glances down at his own attire.

"I probably should get ready and head to the kitchens. I promised I'd help with lunch today."

"Then I expect we'll see you there," Daine says with a smile as she gets off the bed and scoops up Shadow. The cat doesn't look impressed by the move, but he clambers up onto her shoulders without complaint.

Sarge spins in an excited circle, then paws open the door. Daine winces a little as the latch swings into view, bashed askew by her efforts. "Sorry about your door," she says again.

Wake-Up Call [Closed]

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