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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
She's not sure what to say at first. She's still mad, to a degree, but it the sort of mad that's defined by a slow simmering background anger that doesn't have any discernible focus. There's the Scratch issue at the base of everything with other issues--his danger to Karkat, his treatment of the Disciple, his conflict with the Initiate--built up overtop that.
"I think we should talk," she finally says. That's always a good starter to this, right?
no subject
"Fine."
His strategy going into this is to just listen and let her talk. That can't possibly get him into more trouble.
no subject
Instead, she noticeably falters only a little before catching her momentum back up again. "You realize what you did wrong back there, don't you?" she asks. She seats herself on the edge of the table, not wanting to take a chair like they were having some pleasant chat.
"You were lucky that things turned out like they did." They could have gone a lot worse, as far as she can tell, and the things that did go wrong? Well, she can't help but think that almost all of them were his fault. Almost.
no subject
He doesn't look at her, instead focusing on some indistinct point in space across the dreamscape they're in. He doesn't really know what else she's expecting. Does she want him to get angry, to fight her, to yell at her and deny he did anything wrong at all? A part of him does want to defend himself, but he's pretty sure it wouldn't do much to change her opinions of him. There's no point in making this worse than it has to be.
no subject
She sighs, exasperated. She has no interest in turning him into a verbal punching bag, if he's just going to sit there and passively agree with her each time.
"Let's play a game. Imagine with me for a moment. Instead of what actually happened, lets pretend that the Psiionic didn't come back. You murdered him--for whatever reason it was that you did. You killed him. That's still fact. Now, what do you imagine that the Initiate would have done in that case?"
no subject
"What do you want? What do you think this will gain you?" He picks up his drink again, takes an overlong sip. "I don't want to play your game. I don't want to let you beat me down just so you can feel morally superior. I had reasons for what I did, I know you don't want to hear them, and I'd appreciate it if you hated me from a distance instead of trying to bait me into fighting you just so you can confirm to yourself how terrible I am."
no subject
She frowns, resting her elbows on the table. "I'll finish the scene, since you're fighting me fang and claw. If he didn't come back, the Initiate would have done more than just hurt you. You killed his moirail, the one person who can stop him from ripping the head off of every person you love, starting with Karkat. Do you think that he would care what anyone does to him for murder outside the arena? Do you think the Capitol would have any control over him at all? I don't give a shit what you think about me, but I'm not going to let you put people I care about in danger because you have no sense of where you do and don't belong."
no subject
He frowns down into his glass.
"Please, just tell me what you want me to do. If you had a reason to talk to me that wasn't just to bring up incredibly painful things and then rub my face in them, I'm perfectly willing to listen."
no subject
Which is what she thinks he's doing. Hiding away behind his bad feelings because he doesn't want to accept what he did. And that worries her on a level she can't even explain.
"I don't understand how someone like you ever got a following, let alone managed to inspire an entire rebellion. You lack any kind of commitment to the consequences of your actions. I wouldn't follow someone like that into a dark room, let alone a political upheaval. If you can't accept the fact that the worst possible outcome is still a viable outcome, if you can't face that, then maybe you should just sit with your hands in your lap and do nothing at all."
no subject
"I thought that was what was expected of me. I thought the whole point was to keep quiet and keep my head down so that no one else ever got hurt because of anything I did. It's because I accept what I did, because I don't want anything like that to ever happen again. I don't know what would make it more plain to you that I'm not running from anything, that I'm just trying to do what seems to be the safest thing for everyone around me."
no subject
"I am not here to make you feel like shit. If that happens, then it is the collateral damage of my real purpose, which is to make sure that you understand where you fucked up. Not because I hate you, but because it is in everyone's best interest that you learn how to not cause trouble! You asked me to keep tabs on you, remember? So this is me keeping tabs on you. And this is me trying to figure out where exactly your problem is. The first problem being that you were refusing to even talk to me about this--which leads to my accusation that you are running away."
"So," Terezi continues, tactfully deciding to drop any comment she might have had about pulling on his big troll pants. "If you're ready to talk, I would like to do that."
no subject
"...I am. I'm sorry for snapping at you, I did ask you to do exactly this. My being on edge is no excuse to accuse you of things you aren't doing."
He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the trademark spiky Vantas bangs back out of his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts into something coherent.
"I just don't see any way to not cause trouble that's better than doing nothing at all, right now."
no subject
"It might not be as bad if you could sit there and not do anything," She sighs, crossing her arms and leaning them on the table. "But I don't believe that you're actually capable of that. You saw the Helmsman in the state he was in, and even though you should have, you couldn't walk away. Even though he's made it clear that he's not your problem anymore. If you want to not cause trouble, then you should accept that your interactions with him are over--until such a time that he says they aren't." She adds that last bit on, though she's pretty sure that it's not going to happen. From what she's noticed, that relationship is basically irreparable for the time being.
"Do you think there's any way that you can actually do that? Ignore the suffering of others if it means not stirring up trouble?"
no subject
"... I can. It won't be easy and I won't enjoy it, but if the alternative is hurting people, it isn't as though I have much choice."
There's a small but unmistakable note of bitterness in his voice. He's accepted that he's a failure, but acceptance doesn't mean it doesn't rankle. He hates the feeling of utter uselessness, the knowledge that there's literally nothing he can do here to help anyone beyond sit still and keep his mouth shut.
"And I want nothing to do with the Psiioniic at all anymore. So. You don't need to worry about that. He's happy with me cut out of his life. I hope he continues to be happy."
no subject
That's what she tells herself, anyway.
The part about the Psiioniic is at least a relief. If he actually means that, then that's one less avenue that she needs to worry about. "For all currently manageable definitions of the word 'happy'... Yeah, he probably will be."
no subject
"I don't think I need to be cruel in order to make things easier. That's exactly the sort of thing I want to avoid."
The last thing he wants is to be thought of as cruel, uncaring, hateful. Not that he's doing a particularly good job of that, it seems, but he doesn't want to make it worse.
no subject
"It's not about actually being cruel," she starts, dropping her hands back down again. "It only seems cruel because you don't know the reasons or the outcomes. Your problem is that you approach everything head-on, from the most direct and uncomplicated angle. Good is good, and bad is bad. So in this system where they punish you for caring, you're going to get hurt, and you're going to get your friends hurt. If you want to do anything, you have to be able to mask your true intentions. You have to be able to think the way that the Gamemakers think, so you know what they see when you do the things you do."