The Crowning of Albert Wesker

[gamemakers]

Who| Everyone in the Capitol.
What| The Crowning Ceremony
Where| The Victor's Complex
When| Day of the Crowning
Warnings/Notes| None yet.

The theme of the ceremony is clearly black and red. A crimson carpet stretches out across the room. The long table for feasting seems to be made of a single slab of dark obsidian, something that couldn't possibly be found in this size naturally. The chairs are wrought iron with red cushions, and embers burn under personal barbecues at each seat. Red wine, red juice, slabs of red meat to be cooked (or eaten raw) - the details are all perfected. Even some of the Avoxes have received black tattoos for the occasion, the number '11' permanently marking under their eyes like grotesque twin tears.

For a crowning, the ceremony is rather intimate. Only a handful of guests have been invited: the usual Capitol VIPs, the Mentors of each District, and a few of the stars of the last few Games. Karis Needleteeth, Aunamee, Dr. Alastor Grey, Alpha, Lindsey McDonald and Hyperion Crius each have a seat at the table. A few Peacekeepers sit off to the side, sipping wine. A few of the Mentors are conspicuously missing.

And Wesker's throne sits at the head of the table; it's made of the head of the dragon that destroyed so much of Disneyland and slaughtered so many Tributes. The head has been dried, the tongue replaced with a plush velvet seat and back the color of blood. The eyes have been replaced with glass that stares at each side of the room. The fangs, however, remain intact.

Downstairs, the rest of the Tributes and their Escorts and Stylists can partake in a more Disney-themed affair. Everything is still sleek, and tends to veer more towards Maleficent and Jafar then Cinderella and Ariel, but the punch bowl is Mickey Mouse-shaped. There's a dance floor, and a string quartet, and all sorts of lavish foods on tables with red cloth. It's a night for mingling, at least.

[OOC Note: Part one of this is going up tonight in the first two subthreads. Part two will be edited into the last two subthreads tomorrow evening; you'll see why. Go forth and mingle! Tributes from downstairs can go say hello to the Victor, although they won't get long before the Peacekeepers escort them back down.]

Comments

OTA

[president_evil]

If Wesker was at all ill-at-ease sitting in the mouth of a dragon, he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed perfectly at home on his throne between the great, glistening fangs, a black-stain in his special made suit against the rusty red of the chair.

His suit was a variation of the one he'd worn during his network appearance. Leather this time, with a long coat that teased against his ankles whenever he deigned to move about the room. The shining veins of ruby were gone, but there was a sash now, like a bloody smear across his chest.

At the moment, he was seated like the king he was at the head of the table, the bowl of a wine glass resting in one palm, liquid swirling idly as he watched the activity around him from behind the impenetrable lenses of his glasses.

His mouth was curved, a gentle smirk, as if laughing at the punchline of some private joke.

Re: OTA

[gardienne]

After a long, long while, Eponine finally staggered up the stairs to where Wesker sat ensconced on his dragon head. She smiled shyly as she approached, and then, a bit nearer, bobbed an inelegant curtsey.

"Monsieur Wesker, I should say congratulations."

She moved forward again though, looking not at Wesker, but at the dragon head.

"Is it real?"

[president_evil]

Wesker's head ducked elegantly, blond hair flashing under the lights as he nodded, both in greeting and in acceptance of hers.

"It was." The knuckles of his free hand brushed lightly against the fang curving against the arm of his chair. "It was quite the sight in the arena."

He had seen it from a distance, the great leathery wings brushing the pretend sky, the smell of fire and sulfur carrying all the way to the rooftop where he'd perched. It's cry like thunder, the heat like waves, rolling toward him as it had torn through his competitors.

...He wondered how they had brought it down.

Some sort of kill-switch, embedded into the beast before release perhaps. Or a intentional flaw in the genetic makeup - something that would insure it's demise.

"An inspired twist."

[gardienne]

"They put his in the arena?" Funny, she must have missed that. Maybe it had been when she had sat, slept, in the basement beneath the Training Centre. Or perhaps during those long, lovely afternoons with Howard.

"I am glad I missed it, Sir."

She sidled closer, reaching out to touch the fangs.

"I nearly killed someone this time. But then another man killed me instead."

[president_evil]

"One does what one must," Wesker replied simply, thumb drawing small, idle circles on his wine glass. "There's no reason to blame yourself."

[gardienne]

"I don't blame myself, Sir. I was being magicked by Monsieur Draco. But it was Howard..."

She moved closer still. "I know you're not a good man, Sir. I know that people don't like you... But won't you help me? Will you help me let Howard win? He hates me now, Sir... but he might not hate you if you help him. And you can now... now you have won. Will you?"

[president_evil]

"You say that as if it matters to me what they think."

His voice was cool, dangerously soft. Behind the dark lenses, the serpentine eyes narrowed.

"I know what I am, the things I have done, and I have no regrets."

He leaned back in his chair, dismissive. Unreachable.

[shambler]

Compared to some of the others, R was dressed fairly conservatively, the ribbon around his neck lined with steel mesh to force him to stop sagging so much. Probably a good thing he didn't need to breathe because if he did, he'd probably be gasping for air and turning blue in the face from the choker long before he made it to Wesker.

He still had this urge to pick at it, though.

R labored all the way to the Victor's place of honor, pausing to gape at the dragon's head because it was so much bigger in person and those fangs were stupidly huge, almost too big to process whether you were a human or a zombie. The weird thing was despite sitting right at the mouth, Wesker didn't look dwarfed by it at all. R couldn't explain why.

"Congrats...?" R was prepared with his speech by the time he finally lurched up to Wesker. "On...your win, Weskerrr. Not...surprised you...did it."

[president_evil]

Wesker smiled, teeth as white as those to either side of his shoulders. (And somehow, despite the pleasant lilt to his mouth, just as sharp.)

"I would be disappointed if you were," he replied, head tipping just so. "I would hate think you didn't believe me a man of my word."

[shambler]

Wesker looked like he belonged, like he'd been made to sit right there under some creepy dragon's decapitated head and own it like no one else could dream about matching. R would've been jealous if he could manage to squeeze it out of his corpse. The zombie hunched his shoulders against those fangs overhead, focusing on Wesker's face.

"Know...better," R said, his words rattling out. "What...will you do....now?"

[president_evil]

"As I understand it, I'm to be a mentor now," he lifted his free hand, gesturing lightly to the stairs, to the tributes below. "Guiding the next from my district to victory."

The hand returned to the armrest, thumb nail picking idly at its fellows as he looked pointedly at R.

"Or, perhaps, even one who isn't."

[shambler]

It took R a long moment of dumb, silent staring to figure out Wesker was (maybe) talking about him.

"Maybe we..." R had to pause again, frustrated, because he knew he was forgetting something. As usual. A conversation with Wesker, maybe. Did they promise anything? Shook hands on it? "Could work...to-gether?"

Somehow R had the feeling that wasn't what he wanted to ask. Not exactly. Some of it was the usual, thoughts and feelings coming and going and leaking out of his skull...but a lot of it was because, to be totally honest, Wesker was so much larger than life that R was plain flustered standing there trying to figure out if he could help.

[president_evil]

When it came to things he wanted, Wesker could be endlessly patient. Could demonstrate a restraint most would have found surprising.

And R was something he wanted. He wanted the infected close at hand,... and not just because of the medical anomaly R represented. Thus far, R, despite his slow, groaning pace, had proven himself to be fitting company.

They had something in common, the two of them, despite the difference in their standings and Wesker could appreciate that.

"I would like to see you reach your potential, R," he said, eyes behind the glasses fixed on the zombie's face. Watching intently. "So I do hope you'll remember what we talked about."

[neclectus]

Timaeus had been looking forward to this for some time now. Wesker wasn't exactly known for being the life and soul of the party, as it were, and Crowning was one opportunity he couldn't avoid to meet him.
He affected a slightly amused bow as he approached.
"Congratulations on your win, Mr. Wesker. Most well-earned."

[president_evil]

"Mr. Nadir."

His head tipped, cocking slightly to one side, but his was face was impassive as he watched the man genuflect before him.

"I would say I regret missing your invitation, but... well." The corner of his mouth curled, one gloved hand lifting to gesture lightly to the chair in which he sat, the dragon's head yawning above him. "I do rather like the chair."

[neclectus]

He laughed, brightly. "Well, it is rather impressive," he agreed easily enough, openly admiring the bright teeth, the glistening eyes. "I do hope it's fastened open, like that. We wouldn't want any accidents."

[president_evil]

Wesker smiled. Less pleasant, more amused.

"Oh, I have every faith in the Capitol's craftsmanship. After all, with all the work that must goes into the arena, what's a simple chair?"

[neclectus]

He smiled, pulling his attention back from the dragon-head throne to its occupant.
"Oh, indeed, indeed. I never fail to be impressed with the latest advances in technology, in the Arena and out. I suppose you must be looking forward to admiring them from the other side of the screens in future."

[president_evil]

"I'm looking forward to admiring many new things," he replied, head tipping, thumb grazing across the bowl of his glass. "As a tribute, there's so little time to stop and really see this city. I hope I might finally get to know her better."

[knifewithnoname]

Pruna was very interested at the man who had won. She had seen his final fights, he was strong. She grinned at the dragon as well, she had been out of the arena by the time it had been unleashed but she had seen it on the televisions. It was much bigger in real life and she reached out to touch one of the teeth.

Then remembered her manners and the lecture she would receive if she forgot them much longer. "I do be congratulating you."

[president_evil]

The blond didn't turn, didn't acknowledge her sly approach... but that didn't mean he was aware of it.

He sipped the tasteless wine, tongue sliding over his teeth, silently shuffling through faces, trying to place her. ...The memories were vague, but he remembered her from the arena. She'd passed through Tomorrowland once or twice and he'd been aware of her in a distant, non-interest, sort of way.

Not a threat. Not particularly useful.

Red and gold flashed, peeking from under the dark lenses, when she suddenly reached out.

"'I am,'" he corrected dryly.

[knifewithnoname]

She ignored the correction, she managed to understand them all despite their, to her, weird ways of speaking so they could just do the same back.

"This do be being an impressive chair. Did you be seeing the dragon when it did be being alive?"

[president_evil]

He inhaled, eyes falling closed behind his glasses for a moment, before deciding it probably wouldn't be worth the effort and letting it pass.

"Not this close," he allowed, thumb tapping idly against the bowl of his wine glass. "But I was able to watch its progress from my position."

[knifewithnoname]

"If you did be seeing it that close you would have been being dead." She said, gesturing at the fact that Wesker was literally inside the dragons mouth.

"It did be a great monster." Even though it was dead now, so not so fearsome.

[president_evil]

"Possibly."

The variables were too many to say which of them - beast to beast - would have figured out how to kill the other first.

It was an interesting scenario, one perhaps to pull out and examine in moments of boredom, but not to dwell on. He had lived, the dragon was dead.

That was all that mattered.

"It does make a lovely chair," he agreed, mouth twisted into an amused smirk.