thecapitol | The Crowning Of Tom Cassidy

The Crowning Of Tom Cassidy

Who| Everyone who's anyone. (Tributes, Staff, Capitolites, and anyone else in Capitol.)
What| The Crowning of Black Tom Cassidy.
Where| The New Cassidy Keep of the Capitol!
When| From noon to the late evening, Friday.
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, so no funny business.
WARNINGS| Blatent irish stereotyping. Remember to put any relevant warnings in headers!

The dress code for this crowning is certainly a strange one. Greenery, burlap sacks, and "Irish" themed outfits which many a confused Capitolites has take as to simply be the color green. Among them can be found the sorts of ridiculous bright costumes as could be found in a 1970's comic book-- not that the 1970's are even a real time period. Spandex, V-necks, and popped collars are going to be a common sight tonight.

Guests are brought out to the stunning blue-green bay. There's a new feature there, a great big replica of Cassidy Keep. And it's been built upon a rock. How it stays up is a mystery, but it's no doubt a stunning site as guests are brought in on boats to a grand staircase that leads to even bigger doors.

Guests enter into a beautiful castle and garden both. Trees grow through the stones, vines climb over the stair railings, flowers bloom on the walls, and in some place the castle gives way purely to nature with small ponds set in. Like an internal rainforest (though the temperature is comfortable and cool) there's greenery everywhere soaking up the light that shines through the high windows. Statues stand tall of Black Tom Cassidy, Molotov Cocktease, and Arya Stark, sometimes all of them together. Then are more of an imposing man named Unstoppable Thuggernaut, a young girl named Theresa, the same girl older with the plaque deeming her to be "Siren", and statues of the the three of them together, both as a family and posing to fight. And of course, one can't forget that grand paintings of infamous arena scenes featuring Black Tom. Paths are set around to help guide guests, the main path leading into the biggest room of the keep.

Sponsored by Below Timberline, a temporary dining area has been set up within the castle-- high above the ground! All along the treetops that shoot up to the ceiling are the vine and wood woven nests for guests to be seated in. Waiters, waitresses, and Avoxes make their way along thick branches and rope bridges. But despite appearances, there's no chance of falling! Forcefields have been put up around the whole area to prevent such a tragedy from occurring to guests, waiters, and waitresses.

There are Avox operated lifts to help guests up to the tree tops, and though this might be an eyesore for some, they've all been dressed pleasant green, some with little hats. All the better to match the theme and blend into it!

That's not all that's gained the Irish theme. The menu consists all of foods that would be found in this mysterious off-world residence. Corned beef and cabbage, Irish stew, colcannon, black pudding, crubeens, shepherd's pie, champ, boxty, shelfish, Blaa, Goody, and Barmbrack despite it being out of season. There is even a cereal dish of what may very well be Lucky Charms. Drinks include "Irish" Whiskey, ales, porter, coffee and cream, and cider both alcoholic and not (for the kids). There is significantly more whiskey with Tom's face upon it than not and much of the drinks are served in large mug glasses.

Down below the dining area are two clear spaces for dancing, one for the professionals giving performance, and one for those seeking to try on their own. The show isn't just an entertaining watch, it's dancers bring more to the music as well, tapping out a beat. Mixed in to shake up the river dancing, Irish-styled folk songs play, generally regaling tales of Black Tom Cassidy and his exploits, but occasionally playing a song or two about other Tributes.

In between floors is a stand where cotton candy makers craft giant colorful flowers. On the far end of the room, set up high, sits Tom's throne. Torches crown the top of the wooden throne, vines woven over the arm rests, a strange metal meant to visually mirror that of vibranium, shines in elegant swirling detail over and around the whole chair. A soft black material is stretched over the back and seat of the throne, marked in red on the back with Tom's symbol. Tom's crown features flowers and shining rubies set in the wood.

Set up in another room is a shillelagh game of shooting water out of the staff at the targets and winning a prize. Prizes include real "authentic" Shillelaghs, and ones that light up and show fire at the end thanks to an internal projection mechanism. And it's perfectly harmless!

Another room winds and twists through a dark torch lit tunnel in a guided tour through a replica portion of Cassidy keep that's been filled with amazing info about Panem's new Victor! Pictures of his life, his youth, his loves, and his adventures. There are replica vibranium pieces, models featuring Tom's many outfits, a pretend prison for guests to have their picture taken inside of, and on-wall descriptions of his villainous escapades. Both those and the tour guide tend to loop back to how he's found redemption here in Panem, now a model citizen.

A third room has been cleared for allowing a giant game of cops and robbers, which Tom has exemplified in present and past respectively. Those brought in to play are dressed in villain's outfits for the "robbers" and all Peacekeeper white for the "cops".

One door leads out to a bridge, connecting the island to the chasm edge across from it. There's a section of rolling hills there where guests are encouraged to seek out four leaf clovers and have them exchanged for engraved gold and bronze rings, flower bouquets, a free meal courtesy of Below Timberline, or even Limited Edition Black Tom Cassidy memorabilia. The white bridge across is lit underneath like that of the ha'penny bridge in the exotic offworld Ireland, but unlike ha'penny, the bridge's lights form beautiful moving pictures of various arena scenes, particularly the finale.

Saddened these scenes are out of sight? Fear not! The wide bridge has a second function: bungee jumping! Overseen by an attendant, with the proper equipment fitting, you too can take a dive into a chasm. Like Black Tom did, only on purpose and absolutely injury-free! The bungee is perfectly secure and safe with more attendants waiting below to pick up those... at the end of their rope. Boats waiting along the far edges pick up the guests again to bring them back around to the Cassidy Keep party. And what a party it is.

But it's not all fun and games at this crowning. Come evening, the dance floor is cleared and a stage and podium are swiftly set up. All the guests are sat. Tributes are sat up front, Capitolites and other guests in the back. Peacekeepers line in rows on the back and sides of the stage. Those still on duty situate between the Tributes and guests. Dead-center, with the rows of Tributes on either side, are two Peacekeepers that some might recognize as being one of the more heavily afflicted Peacekeepers on the day of the Medieval Games-watching Party. Though the offworld "sickness" vanished shortly after the first arrest was made, these two still don't look so hot, one nursing what might be a headache, and the other just plain looking ill.

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Porrim loves a good crowning; it's a great excuse to dress up in something extravagant, have a few drinks, and socialize--and get paid for it. The irony that the last crowning had ended in her taking a Tribute home isn't lost on her, considering that said Tribute is gone now and she's probably going to be punished for her indiscretions any day now. So she's got to play it safe tonight. She knows this, and yet she's picked the most scandalous dress she owns to wear. In keeping with the theme, it's nature-themed, but mostly it involves a whole lot of sheer, shimmery fabric and three strategically placed jade-green floral appliques. It shows a whole lot of body, including the full extent of her tattoos: intricate floral designs, the phases of the moon spanning the front of her ribcage, symbols of womanhood and fertility, skulls, roses, a huge pirate ship on one thigh; there's an awful lot to look at, if you don't feel too awkward to stare. Her hair is set into long, perfect waves down to her waist, her makeup flawless as usual, jade green contacts in her eyes.

The long train of her dress has her staying in one spot quite a bit; she makes a habit of standing and sipping a drink in advantageous places around the room, so as not to have to maneuver the train around too much. When she does move, people tend to part in her wake, giving her plenty of room to walk. She keeps an eye on her Tributes like a good Escort, pausing to talk to coworkers and friends and acquaintances alike. She spends awhile seated near one of the small, babbling pools, nibbling at a plate full of "exotic" food from Tom's homeland and enjoying the scenery. It's nice, for someone who's only ever seen the inside of the Capitol, to be somewhere she's at once indoors and given over to nature. Porrim's in a surprisingly good mood; hopefully nobody will set out to sour it.

Rochelle's own outfit is more modest, but Rochelle can't help but stare as Porrim stands there in an outfit that would have given Rochelle's granny another heart attack, should she have seen it, bless her soul. But Rochelle had to give Porrim one thing. It made a statement, and it made it loud and clear.

Rochelle approaches her after a minute or so, and sits down next to her at the pool. For a moment, she doesn't speak, trying to think of something to say besides talking about Nick, or zombies, or how very culturally inaccurate all of this is. Or anything about her dress.

Finally, she decided to go with zombies anyway, because that's what her life has seemed to revolve around, even when she was here. "You know, I'm glad I didn't win. This crowning is a lot prettier than they would have done for me, I think. Zombies everywhere. Flowers and nature are a lot prettier to look at. And dress as."

Porrim merely sits, content to let the moment breathe, content to be silent for a moment while Rochelle figures out what she wants to say. In the meantime, she nods, a small smile on her face, studying Rochelle's outfit, and her hair. It's beautiful; it suits her, especially the pale green against Rochelle's skin.

When Rochelle finally speaks, it's met with a soft chuckle. "Honey, this is the Capitol. They would most certainly find a way to make zombies pretty." She hitches her chin toward the other woman. "You look beautiful, by the way."

She snorts at that, trying to picture what an attractive zombie would look like. And then she shuddered. "I don't want to know. I hope I'll never have to know." Rochelle had enough nightmares featuring zombies--Having them suddenly managing to look sexy would be like someone taking your worst nightmare and making a porno out of it.

She looks up when Porrim compliments her, and flashes her a smile.

"You think so? Thank you. So do you. You look like some kind of fae queen. One of the ones that kill mortal men that gaze upon her." She smirks at that--Porrim probably wasn't going to be killing anyone, but any elderly looking at her might be at risk of a heart attack or two. Which was close enough, probably.

"Me too, really, now that I'm thinking about it." Porrim may have grown up here, but recently it's been easier for her to see how grotesque her people can really be.

The smile Rochelle gives her is endearing, and Porrim nods. "I do. And thank you." She gestures toward herself, laughing. "I like that vibe. I think it's pretty fitting. I've often thought of myself as some kind of pseudo-femme fatale."

She adjusts her seating, her breasts shifting dangerously under the sheer fabric of her dress, threatening to eclipse the floral motif covering what little modesty she has left. "Your hair is pretty like that. Does your Stylist know how to manage your hair properly? Because if not, I certainly do." She shifts the bulk of her her, long and set into gleaming finger waves, over her shoulder. "Heaven knows I've had enough practice taming this mane. But if you ever want help with your braids, or find yourself wanting to try something new, I'd be happy to help."

"Pseudo? You should reach for the stars." Rochelle replies easily, politely averting her eyes as Porrim shifts. She wonders if Porrim purposely eschewed fashion tape, but maybe when you already had that much showing, a little more wouldn't hurt. It brought to mind why it was the nipples that were the forbidden fruit. Why could the rest of the breast be showing, but not them?

Weird as hell.

But that was neither here nor there.

"Ah? She does an alright job," Rochelle replied with a shrug, putting her hand over her hair contemplatively. "I usually do it myself, but she'll usually insist on something or another for the big events. I wanted to go into the arena with a bun. Easier to handle, that's what I did for the zombies. But she thought that pigtails were the way to go with that ridiculous jester outfit." She wrinkled her nose. "But I mean--I'd love to get some help. I've been wanting to do microbeads, but those are near impossible to do yourself."

"I'll try." She smirks. She can't deny that she does have that whole vibe going on, after all. And people seem to fall for it hook, line, and sinker. She could really make it as some wacky spy, like in a television show, if she learned how to shoot a gun.

Porrim lets out a little snort. "The pigtails. I nearly forgot. Truly a tragedy, you poor thing." She waves a hand. "Anyway, I'd be happy to help. It's been a while since I've rocked anything complicated myself, but I do a mean microbraid."

Well isn't this a sight. It's almost more of her than he's seen. Almost. He doesn't bother to divert his stare, admiring as though she's a piece of artwork. And she is, isn't she? Done up like a painting with imagery and symbolism. Porrim Maryam is a walking canvas.

He's been painted a bit himself, neon splatters of rainbow upon every inch of exposed skin. There are flowers in his hair to match and rings on his fingers supposedly fitting or ireland, but providing that ancient and gothic touch he so loves.

He finds he likes the life in this party too, though maybe not so much as her. He should hope his pressence doesn't sour things when he offers a wave, walking over with a drink in hand and a curly straw that definitely wasn't offered here at the party.

If Porrim were the kind of person who minded stares, she'd certainly be having a difficult time of it tonight. As it is, she's used to stares; heads tend to turn when she enters a room, whether she's buttoned up in tailored black or baring it all, like she is tonight. And she certainly can't miss a sight like Kurloz coming toward her, drinking her in like it's nothing at all. Which, to him, it isn't.

She grins at him, even turning her body a little, angling it so that he can see all--and at the right angles, he'll be able to; applique only covers skin in certain positions, after all.

As he comes closer, she tilts her chin at him in greeting. "I was wondering when I'd run into you. I like the rainbows. Nice touch."

She displays herself, just for him. His drink comes up, straw slipping between threads so he can take a drink to go with the show. Who is he to reject such an offering? Especially as beautiful as she is.

His only disappointment is that he didn't think to provide the same. The best he's got is the slight cocking of his wider-set hips. Of course, today is only for looking.

At her greeting, and complement, he folds his hand over his heart and bows just that little bit. Thank you. And then with both hands twirling out at her he says, and you are quite stunning yourself.

In Porrim's estimation, you'd have to be a fool not to take up what she's offering. Of course, just because she's standing nearly nude in a room full of people doesn't mean she's on offer to just anyone, but considering there's a precedent here, she's content to give him a little show.

Her lips curl at the sight of him sipping at his drink, and she can't say she blames him. She'd be thirsty too, if she saw herself standing there like a vision. Porrim waves a hand.

"Oh, this old thing? Just something I've had in the back of my closet." An outright lie, to be sure, but she's in the mood to be playful.

His brows rise up, not because he's surprised or disproving, but because he's amused. It's a complete lack of surprise that she would just happen to have something like this, whether the tale is one of truth or otherwise.

He preforms a series of gestures; he points at her first, then brings his fingertips together, flat by him, and parts his hands like an opening door, and then he waggles his fingers in an upward curving motion to indicate some magic or wonder.

You must have quite the exciting closet.

The specifics of what he's trying to say escape her, but Porrim can pretty much guess what he's getting at by the gestures he's making. She laughs. "Yes, it's quite the exciting place. There's a lot of black."

The Escort shakes her head. "But really, I had this specially made for tonight. Apparently some idiotic television host wore something similar the other night, but I'm pretty sure I'm safe in saying I wear it better."

The unfortunate down side to signing, or in his case, simply miming, was that one had to sacrifice much of the artistry of language. A tragic thing, but worthwhile nevertheless. And he spent plenty of time with pen and paper, perfectly able to write.

He claps his hands together then twirls a hand out toward her, eyes closed as head tilts as well and confirms the direction intended. But of course, Sister, how could anyone compare to you? His eyes peak open. After all... He gestures at her, up and down. Then winks.

His reply is met by another chuckle. "I know, I know. Preposterous to even think that I don't. But then again, modesty has never been my strongest suit."

Not by a mile; she's not an egomaniac, but she knows her own strengths and she plays to them. She glances around, sipping at her drink, and then brings her gaze back to Kurloz, an almost unsettling shade of jade green from her lenses instead of their usual brown. "Your Tributes look lovely, by the way. Color me impressed."

It's like an inside joke, really, and that's what makes it all so fun. What better a thing than a joke between friends. Or coworkers. Whatever she preferred.

He puts a hand over his heart as though deeply touched, though his grin throws it off a fair deal. He then proceeds to bow just the slightest bit. Thank you. I do so work hard.

This was the Capitol game. Flattery and prying from one another. Right now, he's actually happy just sticking with the former. This surprises him, but he supposes it's not a bad surprise. No, not bad at all.

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The Crowning Of Tom Cassidy

Porrim | Open

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Going to wrap this with ten right here since it's old /o\