etcircenses: (Default)
Panem Events ([personal profile] etcircenses) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2015-01-20 10:58 pm

The Crowning Of The Signless

Who| Everyone.
What| The Crowning of The Signless.
Where| An alcove in a nearby mountain.
When| From dusk to dawn, on Thursday.
Warnings/Notes| This event is mandatory for all Tributes to attend. Even if you do not tag in, your character will attend this party. Peacekeepers will be on high alert. There will be no chance to runaway.

Tributes are encouraged to sleep all during the day, before the crowning. The reason for this is revealed when they are roused at sundown and brought to the closest mountain to the city, where they are greeted by an alcove within the moutainside that has been carved into a temple to what may be an illicit faith. The stone alcove is dim-lit by candles arranged along walls and by what appears to be altars set before iron cancer signs, some plain, some inlet with intricate carvings. Bright red drapery hangs about the room, tapestries with the cancer sign and cirles of blending color spectrum. There are also some waist high leggings hung upon one wall. In the center of the room, shackles hang, glowing bright from some sort of internal heat and light. A hole in the ceiling is set on each side of it, to allow the smoke to escape from the great bonfire that roars beneath it. If one takes a seat upon any of large stones and logs aranged around it, they can see both the stars twinkling down and the way the smoke looks as though it is coming off the shackles.

The only windows otherwise are made from stained glass depicting images from the Signless's life, such as his rescue by "Alternia's First Mother" (so described on the metal plate below), "The Recording of His Teachings" depicting The Disciple writing the Signless's words into a book, "A New Follower" showing the Psiioniic joining the Signless, a boat deemed "The First Ship", and "The Execution" which features the death of the Signless before thousands of followers, a fifth troll- resembling Terezi- bearing the shackles as a necklace and another with great brown wings, a single window of Karkat and Kankri Vantas, as well as a sinister depiction of six indistinct shadowy figures of cerulean, blue, indigo, violet, tyrian, and maroon. Cave-style paintings cover the stone walls, styles ranging from simple scribbled etching to circles featuring twelve colors in circle, with bright red at the center, and yet more elaborate shadowy depictions of those in the stained glass, esepcially the Signless himself, both prior and following his execution.

But not all is dedicated to the Signless and his old posse of biblical age trolls. A shrine has been set up for redeemed and then so quickly lost victor, Matthew 'Punchy' O'Conner. Punchy has been painted upon a cave wall like he fits right into the theme. Upon his shrine lay all varieties of bling; Bling-jewelery, a bling goblet, bling boxing gloves, a hoodie, a nun habit, and a stone with a memorial rap engraved atop-- with bling, of course, all shimmering by the spotlights placed before the shrine. Refillable 40 oz bottles are lain out so that sorrowful guests, wishing to pay their respect to the boy so cruelly slain by rebels when he had turned from them, can pour one out in his honor.

Marius is also honored there with a tea light and small framed photograph set upon an empty table with an empty chair, along with souvenir versions of his and Cosette's wedding rings that guests can take home. Beneath all these rings is a photoshopped picture of javert with a single tear running down his manly face.

The only seating besides the stones and logs and Marius's single chair, are those that are sat at a table at the end of the room. Each is draped in a different color, six on each side for each district and each blood hue-- presumably of the Victor's choosing. Between these chairs sits yet one more with a tall back like a flogging jut that got the redesigned at the base to make a throne that some trolls might recognize as belonging to the Empress. The arms of the chair feature open shackles. The throne is decorated in chains of gold and jewels of all colors. The victor is given a crown of gilded flowers and thorns on chain.

Food can be found upon the altars or the victor's table, in surplus. Alternian delicacies are served, featuring insects, flavored or plain, and food made from insects. Guests may find a giant beetle being served upon a spit roast. Even the meats appear to be topped with bugs. The cakes, marshmallows (which can be roasted with stick by the fire!), and orange creamsicles may be the only things truly bug-free. Drink options are water, wine, and soda.

Stylists are encouraged to dress their tributes primarily in black, with a single bit of color put into the design matched according to district (with exception to trolls), or any manner of draping fabrics, cloaks, and costumery reminiscent of religious iconagraphy that one might expect of ancient aliens. Waist high pants and leggings are also in high regard, as well as fake horn, fangs, contacts, and anything to make guests look more trollish. The only rule is for the main colors to match to the blood assignment.

The music playing is the sort one might expect from a church, featuring mournful vocals, soft bells and melodies, and of course, organ music. But for one or two jarring differences. Where this music is coming from remains a mystery but since the space is open and clear, guests have plenty of room for dancing.

Those who don't wish to dance can talk and regale tales around the bonfire, or may instead seek out the book of "scripture" at one of the altars that features nothing more than various parables- with names that Tributes might recognize! Each Tribute has one parable contained within, telling a tale in flourished manner of a part of their life, featuring a pro-capitol moral at the end.

Elsewhere, are models of the flogging just, where guests can put their hands through the oversized cuffs and pretend to writhe in agony, an Alternian bioware helm where guests too can pretend to have their lifeforce and power used a battery for the sake of the Alternian empire, a dress-up station where guests can customize their appearance to match trolls sold into gruelling slavery to seadwellwers, and an area designed to look like a cave with extensive "Alternian" (gibberish) writings of the Signless's words, where guests too can pretend they've lost everyone they love and are carrying on their legacy by writing upon the walls and leaving their own messages of love and mourning. Not to mention, a life-sized drone with realistic piercing claws, for all your picture posing needs.

A sandpit lies just around a corner for children to make castles, dig trenches, and act out games of pretending they've trekked thousands of miles through zombie infested desert just to speak to a couple of people! Guests can also meet a "mutantblood lusus" a four-eyed crab creature with lizardlike structure-- only sized no bigger than the average dog and perhaps about as intelligent. Guests are warned not to put their hand too close, lest the claw pincers manage to pinch them.

Late into the crowning, everyone is brought out to the dark mountainside, well monitored by peacekeepers, and divided into teams. Everyone is given belts with velcro flags attached, colored according to the "blood" they were matched with by district. Those in the eighth, ninth, twelfth, third, tenth, and eleventh districts are deemed the "lowbloods. Those in the first, fourth, second, fifth, sixth, and seventh districts, are deemed the "highbloods". Each team is given a velcro board to attach the flags to. The first team to lose all their flags loses, winners getting tiny necklace copies of the shackles. The last one standing with a flag wins a larger necklace copy and the option to get it redesigned into a symbol of their choosing.

If you failed not to be "culled", fear not! All tributes receive a participation sticker at the end. This sticker features a number. It is not indicative of districts or of age, as will be announced shortly, but of the new scoring. These will be announced for everyone to hear- and pick out targets from.

The crowning officially ends with the coming dawn. And so begins, to everyone's surprise, preparation for the arena. Tributes will be going right from the crowning off to the Tribute launch tubes. Happy Hunger Games!

[Note: This is ICly on Thursday! Just before the arena on Friday!]
biiowiired: ok (ok)

b

[personal profile] biiowiired 2015-01-24 12:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Psii didn't know much about the incineration sticks humans smoked, other than they were fire-related. Maybe that's what he needed right now. Fire. Fire to burn all this fucking shit down. But if he really wanted to make a dent in the decorations, he'd have to be stealthy about it. Taking it from the bonfire in the middle of all the attention wouldn't do.

It was a good place to hang out, the Dolorosa's window watching over anyone beneath it. It wasn't too close to the helm display or the drone, for which Psii was thankful. He plucked a large glass of clear, strong-smelling alcohol from a waiter's tray. He'd had the bad fortune to discover it was flammable earlier in the evening, thanks to the antics of a mayonnaise-obsessed human male.

Armed and ready, he approached Nill from the front, who looked to be mostly bare on top like himself. She looked very pretty, but also very cold. She was probably as comfortable in her dress as Psii was having gold clinking against his horns every time he moved wrong. His chest was bare but for jewelry of molded gold and fine chains, leaving the whip scars on his back exposed. The rest of his clothes were fittingly in his color, including the gold they'd dusted on his face and shoulders.

"Hey Nill. Do you thtill have your fire thtarting apparatuth?"
reassures: (flicker ☙ cuz they're calling me home)

[personal profile] reassures 2015-01-25 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
Under slightly more typical circumstances Nill is never one to deny someone her lighter. She's met a number of other smokers, and usually she's more than happy to share her cigarettes and source of light with them, but the Psiioniic's request for just the lighter has her a little concerned. The concern only increases when she sees the glass of clear liquid, which is obviously alcohol. She doesn't really need to smell it to be able to tell that much.

The stylists did a nice job with his outfit though, she thinks. It doesn't look comfortable at all, but the colors suit him and his caste, and they did a good job to flatter his appearance with it, even if it showed off his scars. Scars are all the rage now it seems.

Her wings flutter against her back, uncertain, before she writes on her notepad.

what do you want it for?
biiowiired: totally helpful (cute psionics)

[personal profile] biiowiired 2015-01-25 09:28 am (UTC)(link)
Perhaps if he could see the makeup on her back, he might be more distracted by her wings. The Capitolites would definitely be cashing in on their martyr chic. But he was a troll on a mission; sure enough, his glass of alcohol was completely untouched, the rim free of the gold dusted on his face. He fished a gold pen out of a pants pocket—yes, he brought it just in case—and scrawled:

Dont you tru2t me? ♊ll g♊ve ♊t r♊ght back prom♊2e.

He gave her his most innocent smile, something he learned from Disciple, a skilled hunter who could be deceptively sweet. Everyone in their right mind should be afraid.
reassures: (shine ☙ i do adore the way you are)

[personal profile] reassures 2015-01-26 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Well look at that. He found a way to write in his blood color after all. She remembers that making him unhappy the first time they really met, and despite the setting it's good to see that he came up with a way to sort of replicate his typing on paper. Even as she returns the smile she doesn't particularly believe him though. That'd just be unwise when alcohol and fire is involved.

you'll get in a lot of trouble if the peacekeepers think you're up to something.

Nice and vague, no direct indication that she thinks he's up to something. They've gotta be careful about these things after all.
biiowiired: operating at capacity (argh)

[personal profile] biiowiired 2015-03-11 08:36 am (UTC)(link)
♊m not up two anyth♊ng. Why 2hould ♊ be?

His smile strained wider as he gestured at the decorations, particularly the helm bioware display and the Drone.

The2e are the be2t ever. ♊m totally enjoy♊ng my2elf.
Every culled troll ha2 the Drone two look forward two ♊f they cant f♊ll the♊r pa♊l2. And ♊ have l♊felong 2erv♊tude in the helm, no two wa2 about that.
What a plea2ant rem♊nder. Ju2t look at the craft2man2h♊p.


He swapped his smile for a rude gagging gesture instead. He could never keep up smiling for that long anyway.

"I want to redecorate," he muttered under his breath.
reassures: (shine ☙ you'll have to break me open)

[personal profile] reassures 2015-03-17 04:45 am (UTC)(link)
While Nill is entirely aware of the kind of atrocities that they've set up in this place for the Signless's crowning, she doesn't know the true extent of each piece, the meaning that could probably never be properly conveyed without someone like the Signless or Psiioniic. She hadn't known that the helm was something that involved lifelong servitude, and she is isn't surprised to hear it, nor is she surprised to hear that it was something the Psiioniic had or would experience.

Though not surprised, the usual vice grip in her chest whenever she learns of the hurt of loved ones and friends wraps itself around her heart. A muscle in her jaw flexes slightly as she presses her teeth together, and she's careful not to let her smile slip, though it's no longer as pleasant an expression.

She fishes into her handbag and pulls out a mostly-full pack of cigarettes. She bumps out two, placing one between her lips, before she swaps the pack for the lighter. She lights her cigarette, puffing quietly as she writes another note, holding out the lighter and the unlit cigarette at the same time.

if you want to try it be careful where you do.
not everyone likes the smoke.


You're smart, Psii. Don't get caught if you decide to blow the place up.
biiowiired: overclocked (cry hang)

[personal profile] biiowiired 2015-04-17 09:50 am (UTC)(link)
Ignoring the cigarette, he ignited the lighter the way he saw Nill do it. The fire burned bright to his nocturnal eyes. A searing, destructive flame of hope. Psii was smart, but he was also a live wire, stripped of his stoic defenses by what surrounded them tonight.

His smile cracked like glass. It was too sharp, too steely, and too shaky. After all he and his friends had been through on Alternia, all they would go through in their futures whether there or here.... The Capitolites who set up these decorations and enjoyed them were making a mockery of it all. It cut deep into Psii's worst wounds. They had succeeded.

But so would he.

He spun silently on his heel and, in the way infuriatingly tall people do, he quickly crossed the few steps it took to reach the nearest bolt of decorative fabric. He splashed his entire drink onto it and thrust the lighter at it without hesitation.
reassures: (fade ☙ you will see)

[personal profile] reassures 2015-05-13 09:13 am (UTC)(link)
The smile that splits across his face is one that Nill has seen many times before, and if there's anything that she knows of it, it's that the people who wear it have had their ability to care about the consequences torn right out of their chests. It tended to get them in a good deal of trouble, but trouble in this world was a lot different from others. Trouble got you tortured. Trouble got your loved ones killed.

She'd hoped Psii would be more careful about his actions, but she can't blame him. Instead her eyes go wide, and she's quick to make her way over to him, only stumbling slightly in her haste. Nill doesn't reach to touch him but she still extends a hand towards him slightly, trying to make sure she's within view. Psii, no, please, this is a bad way to do it, please don't be stupid.
biiowiired: 2leepiing or tryiing not two look at you (eyes closed)

[personal profile] biiowiired 2015-07-04 09:12 am (UTC)(link)
The flame from the lighter tried to catch onto the curtain, but it wasn't enough to leave more than a fizzling black spot. Maybe if the fabric was extremely flammable or he had more alcohol.... Well, so much for that attempt.

He fizzled out, too. He stepped back, sure Nill was going to grab him, but he was left to his own devices. He let her lighter drop to the floor as his arm went limp, having used up all his stores of resolution. He'd already broken down once tonight, and he was too tired for another round, too helpless. Trapped, too; behind them, the party floor opened to nothing but sky framed with rock and cliff and the ever-present Peacekeepers.

He sunk down to the floor, set his glass aside, and hugged his knees without a word.