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thecapitol2013-12-15 06:36 am
etcircenses) wrote in thecapitol2013-12-15 06:36 am
Entry tags:
- aunamee,
- cassandra marko,
- commander shepard,
- event: crowning,
- harley quinn,
- joan watson,
- matthew "punchy" o'connor,
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- wesker,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ azula,
- ✘ cinderella,
- ✘ diana ladris,
- ✘ eliot spencer,
- ✘ ellie,
- ✘ enjolras,
- ✘ guy crood,
- ✘ hawkeye pierce,
- ✘ howard bassem,
- ✘ ian chesterton,
- ✘ ian gallagher,
- ✘ john a. zoidberg,
- ✘ john watson,
- ✘ kevin prentiss,
- ✘ marius pontmercy,
- ✘ maximus,
- ✘ mindy macready,
- ✘ neffa a reyeth,
- ✘ orc,
- ✘ peeta mellark,
- ✘ perry kelvin,
- ✘ pruna,
- ✘ r,
- ✘ rat,
- ✘ sherlock holmes (bbc),
- ✘ shion,
- ✘ venus dee milo,
- ✘ zelos wilder
The Crowning of Enjolras
WHO| All Tributes and Victor, plus a few Capitol guests
WHAT| The Crowning of Enjolras
WHERE| The Tribute Center
WHEN| A few weeks after the end of the Arena
WARNINGS| Forced medical experimentation, needles.
The atmosphere surrounding the Crowning is both tense and secretive. The style teams flutter around listlessly, having received no information from which to draft their designs. Newspapers take bets on when it will be announced where the Crowning is being held, descending into grousing when no press release is given. Peacekeepers pour in and out of the Tribute Center, accompanied by scientists who occasionally pull Tributes aside and look at the veins in their elbows. Even the Avoxes seem jumpier than usual.
Aside from the Tribute Center's new giant marble statute of a nude Enjolras, posed like the famed David, one could almost forget the party is supposed to be celebratory.
When the day arrives, the Escorts and their assistants don't lead the Tributes to their style teams to be gussied instead. Instead, they hush the Tributes and bring them to their bedrooms, where a Peacekeeper, a white-coated citizen and several Avoxes await them. The Escorts instruct the Tributes to lay down in their bed and close their eyes, and a needle is inserted into their arms that the Escorts insist will 'take them to the party'. It's soon followed by a series of sensors taped to the forehead.
Just relax, the Escorts say, and they do their very best to make sure their Tributes feel minimal anxiety. If the Tributes resist too much, more Peacekeepers are called in, and the Tributes are forced into submission.
The first effect is a sort of paralysis - not the terrifying inability to move, but a signal to the brain that says why move? Moving is so much effort. It's quickly followed by drowsiness, and then a chill that radiates from the needle into the body, and finally, unconsciousness.
And that is when the party begins. The Tributes, now dressed in luxurious 1830's French clothing of a quality beyond even what their Stylists could manage, wake up in the front row of a large stone theater setting reminiscent of, simultaneously, Greek and French architecture. The floor of the theater is filled with buffets of every imaginable sort of food. Rose petals fall from the sky, which displays a sunset worthy of award-winning photography.
For his part, Enjolras sits in a throne made of books on the ring of the amphitheater, flanked by Marius, Cosette, Eponine, and bizarrely enough Venus Dee Milo and Ellie, seated on lush pillows and carpets made of dinosaur skin (with the heads comically attached and eyes lolling).
"Welcome, welcome, our Tributes and Mentors, to the first ever somnofestival, sponsored by Hypnogogia!" Caesar Flickerman, noted talkshow host and Games presenter, appears in a fabulous sequined toga in the center of the amphitheater. He doesn't need a microphone; the acoustics here are flawless. "And congratulations to our Victor! Let us hear it for Enjolras!"
He awaits applause.
"As you may have noticed, you're inside a shared dream, due to the just fantastic technology from the Capitol and certain, ah, biological contributions from our dear favorite Aunamee." He holds a hand out and gestures to Aunamee, anticipating wild applause. "We thought that for our most philosophical Victor yet, we should celebrate in a way that's a little bit…cerebral."
Caesar laughs and gestures at all the food, then puts a cheeky finger to his lips. "By all means, enjoy yourselves. Even the most indulgent desserts here won't show up on your hips tomorrow. The party only last three hours, so you might as well get started!"
He vanishes into thin air, leaving the Tributes to celebrate. Occasionally, the Tributes will hear voices in their heads - chatter from the Peacekeeper and scientist and Escort still in their room, in the waking world. Otherwise, this is a party like any other, if somewhat surreal in nature.
-/-
The party begins the same way for all the Tributes. For an unlucky few, however, it soon diverges as they come under an unfortunate glitch in the system.
They'll look around and find only a handful of their fellow Tributes around them. The sky, rather than being a magnificent splay of color, is now blank white, and yet the lighting in the theater seems dim. A sense of panic, detached from any conscious thoughts, surges forth in them like the tide.
For them, this isn't a shared dream. This is a shared nightmare.
WHAT| The Crowning of Enjolras
WHERE| The Tribute Center
WHEN| A few weeks after the end of the Arena
WARNINGS| Forced medical experimentation, needles.
The atmosphere surrounding the Crowning is both tense and secretive. The style teams flutter around listlessly, having received no information from which to draft their designs. Newspapers take bets on when it will be announced where the Crowning is being held, descending into grousing when no press release is given. Peacekeepers pour in and out of the Tribute Center, accompanied by scientists who occasionally pull Tributes aside and look at the veins in their elbows. Even the Avoxes seem jumpier than usual.
Aside from the Tribute Center's new giant marble statute of a nude Enjolras, posed like the famed David, one could almost forget the party is supposed to be celebratory.
When the day arrives, the Escorts and their assistants don't lead the Tributes to their style teams to be gussied instead. Instead, they hush the Tributes and bring them to their bedrooms, where a Peacekeeper, a white-coated citizen and several Avoxes await them. The Escorts instruct the Tributes to lay down in their bed and close their eyes, and a needle is inserted into their arms that the Escorts insist will 'take them to the party'. It's soon followed by a series of sensors taped to the forehead.
Just relax, the Escorts say, and they do their very best to make sure their Tributes feel minimal anxiety. If the Tributes resist too much, more Peacekeepers are called in, and the Tributes are forced into submission.
The first effect is a sort of paralysis - not the terrifying inability to move, but a signal to the brain that says why move? Moving is so much effort. It's quickly followed by drowsiness, and then a chill that radiates from the needle into the body, and finally, unconsciousness.
And that is when the party begins. The Tributes, now dressed in luxurious 1830's French clothing of a quality beyond even what their Stylists could manage, wake up in the front row of a large stone theater setting reminiscent of, simultaneously, Greek and French architecture. The floor of the theater is filled with buffets of every imaginable sort of food. Rose petals fall from the sky, which displays a sunset worthy of award-winning photography.
For his part, Enjolras sits in a throne made of books on the ring of the amphitheater, flanked by Marius, Cosette, Eponine, and bizarrely enough Venus Dee Milo and Ellie, seated on lush pillows and carpets made of dinosaur skin (with the heads comically attached and eyes lolling).
"Welcome, welcome, our Tributes and Mentors, to the first ever somnofestival, sponsored by Hypnogogia!" Caesar Flickerman, noted talkshow host and Games presenter, appears in a fabulous sequined toga in the center of the amphitheater. He doesn't need a microphone; the acoustics here are flawless. "And congratulations to our Victor! Let us hear it for Enjolras!"
He awaits applause.
"As you may have noticed, you're inside a shared dream, due to the just fantastic technology from the Capitol and certain, ah, biological contributions from our dear favorite Aunamee." He holds a hand out and gestures to Aunamee, anticipating wild applause. "We thought that for our most philosophical Victor yet, we should celebrate in a way that's a little bit…cerebral."
Caesar laughs and gestures at all the food, then puts a cheeky finger to his lips. "By all means, enjoy yourselves. Even the most indulgent desserts here won't show up on your hips tomorrow. The party only last three hours, so you might as well get started!"
He vanishes into thin air, leaving the Tributes to celebrate. Occasionally, the Tributes will hear voices in their heads - chatter from the Peacekeeper and scientist and Escort still in their room, in the waking world. Otherwise, this is a party like any other, if somewhat surreal in nature.
-/-
The party begins the same way for all the Tributes. For an unlucky few, however, it soon diverges as they come under an unfortunate glitch in the system.
They'll look around and find only a handful of their fellow Tributes around them. The sky, rather than being a magnificent splay of color, is now blank white, and yet the lighting in the theater seems dim. A sense of panic, detached from any conscious thoughts, surges forth in them like the tide.
For them, this isn't a shared dream. This is a shared nightmare.
Guy
"Hello?" he called out, voice cracking and shifting like the earth had once done in his home. Then his voice slid away into the abyss as he stepped forward slightly and felt grass under his feet. "Is anyone there?"
He hated the dark. He hated the dark with every fiber of his being. He'd hated it in the arena the nights he couldn't get away with - or couldn't manage to make - a fire. He hated it here.
But he'd hated it the most as a child. Because he'd been a child that truly had something to fear from it.
Back then, there had been no fire to light his way. Just himself and his own thoughts and distant screeching in the night. Just the rustling of grass he couldn't see and low growls that felt as if they rippled through his whole body.
He heard that rustle of grass and those growls now. Here and now. Right behind him.
He was running before his conscious mind had even had a chance to process it, before his brain had time to wonder how he'd suddenly wound up like this, jumping and crashing through the underbrush, his heart fit to explode from the exertion and terror.
Any unfortunate souls that got in his way would be slammed into bodily, with him trying to pull them along, screaming a cry in their ear that was desperate and panicked:
"RUN!"
He had no sparkstone and flint. He didn't have the time to make a fire with sticks. It was all they could do to get away from the snarling thing with teeth and claws crashing through the brush behind him. Until he learned to live in the world instead of survive it, it's all he'd been able to do back then and right now, the nightmare had saw fit to recreate the darkest part of Guy's childhood and drag others in for the ride.
Re: Guy
He saw the footage from the 74th Hunger Games, saw the bits about how a kid from District 3 dug up landmines and rearranged them around the pyramid of food. Somewhere he lodged that idea in his head as a sort of option he'd have in future Arenas. It lay there, festering and dormant, stinking up the mental tupperware with mold.
And now it's back out. Howard's standing on the buffet table from the party, having come here for the food and realized that he can't leave, because he just knows the mines are buried somewhere. He's trapped here with all these hoarded riches of indulgent food, and he doesn't know how to leave.
And it's getting dark. He paces until he hears someone coming, and squinting through the night he can make out a figure, and then a voice. A voice saying something he definitely doesn't think is compatible with the dangers of this particular nightmare.
He waves his arms as highly, widely and quickly as he can, trying desperately to signal to Guy, looking against the dim, dim light like an animal trying to make itself scary by being bigger. "Stop!"
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"It's coming!" Guy cried out, trying to disentangle himself from Howard's limbs and help the teen to his feet so that he could run, too. "And I think it might be more than one! Get up! Get up!"
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And that's when the first beast hits a mine. The explosion takes over Howard's whole world, all sound and flash and heat. He tucks his arms over his head and curls on his side, uninjured but left with ears ringing and eyes half-blinded.
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For a little while all he could hear was ringing and all he could see were flashing afterimages of an animal being shredded apart by a small sun exploding into being at its feet.
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(Or, more likely, it's the dream, the logical part of him says, the part that's being buried under the very real dread.)
He puts an arm over Guy's shoulders to try and hold him down, close to the ground.
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"What was that?" he cried out over the ringing. "It was like a little sun burst under its feet and just tore it apart!"
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"I think we should stay still! I think it might have been something hiding under the ground!"
Fortunately, they didn't need to hear each other to have the same idea.
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Snowflakes fall from the sky. Snowflakes and ash.
"Thanks for leading the monsters right to me," Howard grumbles.
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His hearing was pretty sensitive. Not like Eep's, which was almost animal-like but about as good as non-caveperson human hearing got. That explosion had been loud and even thought this was a dream, the dream was making his body react like it would in reality.
He looked out at the shadows moving around the edges of where they were and his face fell.
Without knowing it was what Howard had said, he shouted, "I'm sorry I led them here! I was just trying to get away!"
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The dream, sparing no gory expense, has spattered the grass with the blood and bone of the exploded beast.
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"I don't know! If we try to leave here, we might blow up and then they might eat us but if we don't leave, they're going to make those things blow up again, possibly close enough to hurt us!"
It would help if he knew what those things were.
"What are those things?! The thing in the ground?"
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"Is there a way to scare them away?"
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And then after that...well, then what?
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"I got this."
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"I know this is just a dream but please don't do that again."
Disgusting.
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That wasn't a big enough fire.
"That's not a big enough fire."
Guy looked to see what was on the table. It hadn't been there before but now there was a giant roasted leg of some kind of bird, almost comically huge.
Guy grabbed it and started ripping all the meat off of it to use for the torch base.
Then he looked around again.
"We need something that will burn..."
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Howard's got a ruffle around his neck that he rips off, then his sleeves. He pulls off his socks but they vanish into thin air when he does so, and in the meantime his shoes decide to disappear, too.
Awesome. Walking around a minefield barefoot.
"We need your clothes. I'm not taking off the rest of mine."
He's only going to go so far with this nightmare, thank you very much. And the world doesn't need a good shot of his ribs and concave belly.
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Guy tried to reach up for the tablecloth, but it disappeared the moment his hands touched it.
It wasn't really that he minded going naked - it wasn't a huge deal where he was from, but this place had him feeling self-conscious.
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Howard, professional blame-shifter. He curls his limbs closer to his torso to prevent Guy trying to take them by force.
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And totally useful argument, except not.
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He hated this place with every fiber of his being.
Off came the pants. All of sudden, off to the side, there were people all sitting in some cavernous room, pointing and laughing. It was probably someone's nightmare but it wasn't Guy's. An auditorium of high-schoolers, not that Guy knew it.
"Where did - where did that even come from?" he asked, handing his pants to Howard, unphased but bewildered.
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