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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.
no subject
But this wasn't his nightmare. He didn't know if they'd wake up from it, regardless, but it still wasn't his nightmare.
As terrible as it was, that helped just a little bit. This was Hawkeye's dark, not his. The thunder and screaming, the bangs, they were the things growling in Hawkeye's night, scratching at the opening of the cave.
There was nowhere to run so he sat down with Hawkeye in the mud and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
He didn't know what to say or do, so he dug deep into his memory, to the most comforting thing he could think of.
It wasn't something that had anything to do with what was happening, but he remembered, a long, long time, ago, singing it with his mother around the fire when she made something to eat. It made sense he thought of it now. It was natural for his thoughts to go to his mother on a battlefield.
So he sang quietly and creakily:
One little lizard goes into the pot
And then he decides food he is not...
no subject
His dad hadn't roused him awake, B.J. hadn't flipped on the light, Winchester hadn't scoffed at the childish display.
With a groan, he snapped his head up and let his hands drop, lifelessly. It was his nightmare, and he was stuck with a nut singing about dead lizards. He'd appreciate the sentiment later. "You know you-" and he stops and tries to get his mouth to work properly before he continues. "This is 'authorized personnel only', bub. You're intruding on a very personal matter, did you know that?" And the wave of restlessness was on par with the nerves strung taut. He didn't want to admit this was his head, his own mind, but it seemed to Hawkeye he just did.
So he jerks away and finds his footing and just talks. He babbles, because he sure as hell can't cry or something around the caveman. "This is a nightmare. Do you know what that is? Do you know what that means? It doesn't mean a damn thing. Not a single thing. There could be- there could be stuffed bears marching along the path, puking rainbows, and that'd be all in my head but it wouldn't make it real, alright? None of this is real. There is noth-" And he steps back from the coffin, because he can't stomach the thought of being near it. And he tries to run a hand through his hair, but the helmet doesn't let him. His hands just drip blood, and he whines, high-pitched and real. "I am not that little lizard, O.K.? I am- not. Ah-ha." He wants to bash his head against something, but he can't because, surprise, he's being watched. He has company. Isn't it great? "I wondered why they didn't have guns in the arena."
If misery loved company, then he supposed he wasn't miserable, after all.
Sidney would have a field day in here. Hawkeye sobers.
"So let's get out of here before I do something stupid, or we get sniped."
no subject
And goes up to live in the banyo tree
Guy broke off. "It's the banyo song. My mother used to sing it to me - it's the only song - the only one I could remember so when I was little, I'd sing it whenever I was scared and pretend she was with me," he said.
In Guy's mind, it almost had the power of a magic spell, a ward he was trying to throw up around the man who had saved him. It had helped him brave the dark as a child and he was trying to give it to Hawkeye as a gift to brave his own darkness.
He tried to stay right by Hawkeye's side. If Hawkeye thought they should keep moving, then he'd take his word for it. He had no idea what to expect next.
"I didn't mean to wander in. I was running from - from mine. From my monsters. But now that I'm here, I want to get you out or try to make it less miserable. I owe you."
A good man deserved to not be trapped in this kind of hell, even if it was one he would (hopefully) wake up from.
no subject
He fights to fend off the smile. It'd be mad to smile now.
"I know you were trying to help-- you did. I'm just. I'm sorry. I appreciate it. I do." And the final bits were rushed and hinted at hysterics, but he couldn't be blamed for that. He latched on to Guy's words. 'Running'. He couldn't run, he rationalized. He was out of shape. He'd just lose his strength, along with his mind. He'd walk the path, and maybe it would lead to the same conclusion Guy's had. Maybe it'd be better, and he'd get out. "I'm a real chicken," he begins, and clears his throat. "I don't know why I keep being dragged to places like this. I'm really no fun in these situations. I don't process catastrophes like they want us to. We had training, alright, but I'm a doctor from Maine."
And he shrugs, but it's a shudder. "This is more confusing to you than for me, though." And that's not a question, even if Hawkeye supposes it should be. So he amends that. "Isn't it?"
no subject
Now it was still beyond all comprehension.
"No," Guy said. Then he amended it to, "Yes. Yes and no. It's confusing but it's not real. It's too horrible to be real to me. It's a nightmare."
He gestured vaguely at his temple.
"Doesn't connect with anything I know. That means I can't stop seeing it as just a nightmare."
It was confusing and horrifying and since he knew this was a nightmare, knew this wasn't real, it was so horrible that he almost wasn't afraid of it. He was afraid of harm while in it, certainly, but the alien-ness of it made it too unreal. It made him see the edges of the nightmare in the way other, far more simple terrors wouldn't.
"What do you need me to do? How do we get you out of this?"
Because he could process this - by not processing it at all. He was just wandering through a living picture right now, on someone else's cave wall, spewed out by a fevered imagination wracked with nightmares.
And since he could, since this wasn't his fear, he'd do whatever he could to help.
no subject
Shot down over the Sea of Japan.
Things didn't have to make sense- they just happened.
He bites back an animalistic, frustrated noise. He fights back making a grab for his hair and tugging. He only scratches at one arm with his hand, at the crook of the elbow. Sure, he was jealous now. He wouldn't be as much when the drugs wore off and the world came back into focus, when he would understand things in the most vague and basic way and Guy wouldn't. War made progress. Nobody denied that.
"Yeah, great," he says, flat and dismissing. He'd apologize to the fella for real, one day. He didn't deserve the cold shoulder. Hawkeye knew that. He bent down and picked a stone- didn't know where it had come from when the rest of the path was dirt- and chucked it. And it skipped, as it would on the water and sank, and Hawkeye could swear he saw a splash, too. "I think it'll run its course," he answers, fixated on the shift of the world, subtle as it had been. He scratched at his arm again, and let his hand fall calmly to his side. "It can't last forever. I thought we'd find the- something. By now. There's nothing ahead and I'm not going back."
As he says that, a wall rises behind the two. They couldn't step back if they tried. Funny, that.
no subject
If it was more than a nightmare for someone, it had to do something to a mind.
"Then we - we have to walk?"