Event: Curses!

[applesaucemod]

The twenty-seventh of August dawns bright and clear, but when your characters wake up, they will immediately notice something wrong. They've woken up the wrong size, or species, or age. Or perhaps everything seems normal until they take a bite of their apple-flavored toaster strudel, or attempt to speak, or wander into the woods, or bump into that old crone in the subway and fail to adequately apologize. However it happens, there's no getting around it: your characters are cursed, like an unfortunate out of a fairy tale.

On the bright side, many curses can be broken. Unfortunately, none of them come with user manuals, so how they might be broken isn't clear. Perhaps true love's kiss will do it, or a heroically sacrificial act, or some serious reflection followed by revelatory insight into your own soul. Or, y'know, whatever. But it's far more likely that your character will just be stuck with whatever it is until sunset, when any and all remaining curses will be broken.

[OOC: Feel free to use this post for initial reactions to whatever curse your character has found themselves suffering. Any additional posts for more specified shenanigans can go up under the 'events: curses' tag. Sunset is a little after 7:30 PM. Backdating and backtagging are the best and you should do both of those things if necessary.]

Comments

[peeta_mellark]

Daine's doggie kiss does more than her words to calm his concerns, and Peeta gives her suggestion of experimentation a steady nod. "Right. Good idea." Maybe there's a loophole somewhere he can find.

Once Daine disappears around the door frame, he turns his chair back around to face the desk. He stares at the blank page of the sketchpad where the chair that now sits in the corner of his room began its existence. A vague worry taking shape in his mind, he puts the pencil still in his hands to the page and draws out a random set of numbers. He pauses, lifting the pencil from the page, but nothing happens. Then he tries a random set of letters. Nothing. Finally, he writes out the word chair. When the word remains on the page and no new chair appears in his room, he lets out a small sigh of relief. It seems only his pictures are affected which, while still upsetting, is better than all his writing somehow coming to life. Though he doesn't know how that could happen with random words and letters. Them appearing on his walls, maybe?

Shaking his head at himself, he pulls open the desk drawer and withdraws a handful of various writing utensils. He lays them out on the desk, then trades his pencil for the first one in the row: a colored pencil. Not much difference, but a good enough place to start.

A few options later, the chair in the corner has been joined by a lamp, a quilt, a set of mixing bowls, and a dog bed that Effie sniffs distrustingly before dragging it to Peeta's feet and curling up on it. Meanwhile, Peeta selects a pen from the diminishing pile on the desk. It's the nicest one he has, given to him by a kind old man he'd met while sketching in the park. He stares at it for a second, then at the page - as clean as can be despite the numerous objects he's drawn upon it - before starting a new sketch. While the other sketches have been of nothing specific, this one he draws from memory.

The pen lays down smooth, thin lines, perfect for the control he needs. The image is seared into his memory, and his hands don't hesitate even though his heartbeat accelerates ever so slightly. He lifts the pen before he can change his mind, and the soft tink that sounds from the mixing bowls matches perfectly with the image disappearing from the page. Setting the pen down in the pile of tried implements, Peeta crosses the room and retrieves the object from the bowls.

Then he sits back down at the desk, running his thumb over the image of the mockingjay in flight, and thinks.

[wildmage_daine]

It's a short trot to her room, where Sarge and Molly greet her with no small amount of confusion. She does her best to explain the situation to them as she shifts back into her human shape and dresses. There's not much to say so far - all she knows is that there are two of her, that the rift is involved (of course), and that - as with most rift troubles - no one has a gods-blest clue what happens next. She gives them each a reassuring scrub with her fingertips before heading back to Peeta's.

Once she steps inside, she raises her eyebrows at his new collection of objects. "You've been busy." She drops into a crouch to give Effie's ears a ruffle while she looks over the new creations in the corner. "I'm guessing it doesn't matter what you use to draw with."

[peeta_mellark]

Daine's voice drags Peeta from his ponderings, and he pockets the pin as he turns to her. "So far. I haven't tried everything, but there doesn't seem to be a difference." He smiles wryly. "On the positive side, it only seems to be pictures that are affected; I can still write words and numbers."

Not that that's any comfort. Already there's a slight tingling in his fingertips, whether phantom or not, the underlying itch to draw. In response, he puts his hand in his pocket, fingering the pin there, still warm from his touch.

"What was happening to Daine - the other Daine?" he asks. Now that they've figured out what's happening to him, his concern about her rises again.

[wildmage_daine]

"Oh." Daine winces sympathetically. "She can't speak - not aloud. Well, she can, but it's best she doesn't. I guess little animals fall out of her mouth whenever she does - frogs and mice and things like that." It's a strange sort of thing to have to deal with, but then again, she doubts anyone else could deal with it better. At least she could apologize to any creatures she unwittingly relocated and explain to them what was going on.

"But aside from that, she's all right," Daine hastens to add. It's fair strange, watching Peeta be concerned about her while she's also standing right here. Like one of those jokes about folk faking their deaths so they can see what everyone really thinks of them.

[peeta_mellark]

It's strange for Peeta, too, to be sitting here in front of Daine and asking about her like she's someone else - which she is. He adjusts to it more quickly than he might have otherwise; having been confronted with lookalikes the same day he arrived went a long way toward shaping his adaptability. He got used to talking to people who looked like someone they weren't. This Daine and the other Daine might be the same person, but they're still separate and therefore separate individuals in his mind.

He winces gently when this Daine details her counterpart's troubles. "Ah." That must be terrible for her, in a multitude of ways. At least she's comfortable with the People; other people would be far more traumatized at having small animals spill out of their mouths.

"Is she in the park?" That seems the most likely place for her to go, with animals falling from her mouth. Plenty of safe places to relocate them.

[wildmage_daine]

Daine nods. "Yes. That's where they're coming from - it's like they're getting taken by little rifts from wherever they were and spat out her mouth." Daine wrinkles her nose, not envying the other her one bit.

"I think I might go out there as well," she says a moment later. "The other Daine's helping a new arrival, so I could finish her--my?--rounds." Odd's bobs, this is going to be weird. At least it won't be hard to avoid herself if need be. The other her glows in her mind's eye like a beacon. "But I expect we'll both be back soon." She offers Peeta an apologetic smile. He'll understand, surely.

And now he knows not to draw anything alive.

[peeta_mellark]

Peeta does understand and he gives Daine a nod. "Sure." He pulls his hand out of his pocket and, opening the desk drawer, swipes all of the writing utensils off the desk top and into the drawer. Then he pivots back to face Daine, unconsciously rubbing his hands on his pants.

"I guess we'll catch up later, then?" He gives her a half smile. "It'd be fun to watch you and you together."

[wildmage_daine]

Daine glances down at Peeta's hands, feeling a bit sorry for him. She knows he normally spends a fair amount of time sketching; hopefully it won't needle him overmuch to have to take a little time off. Whatever this business is, it won't last that long, surely.

Never mind what that means for her.

"We'll be back soon," she promises with a lopsided smile. At least the two of them can distract him a bit. "I expect she'll be needing me to translate if she wants to talk to any two-leggers, anyway." She crouches to give Effie one last ear ruffle, then straightens. "We'll be sure to find you."