The Crowning of Mindy McReady

[etcircenses]

Who| Everyone who's anyone.
What| The Crowning.
Where| A warehouse on the edge of town.
When| Starting from early evening till late into the night.
Warnings/Notes| Be sure to check the linked thread for plot purposes, even if you don't tag into it.

The party is brightly colored.

The theme, subtly, is super heroes. Boldly paints city scapes are splattered across the walls, and hallways are made to look like dingy, potentially crime ridden alleys. From the upper walkways of the warehouse, party goers can get hooked into harnesses and swing out over the dance floor. Above them, tributes and VIPS can find themselves on a clear plastic dance floor levitated above everything, looking like they're hanging in air.

Masks are passed out in plenty, and capes are easy to find, while brightly colored drinks themed around super powers are plentiful. None of them actually work, but many of the Capitol people are happy to pretend, mocking super strength or invisibility with each new beverage.

Under the dance floor a catacomb of tunnels and rooms full of obstacles is splashed with black light receptive colors. Party goers are given vests and laser guns, marked green for villains and red for heros, and set loose to hunt each other in the laser tags playground. The screens in the dance floor keep a running tally of which side is winning, displaying the players on the screens around the room, along with clips from the arenas.

About half way through the night, everyone is gathered to the main stage for a special announcement.

Comments

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil is clearly not a Tribute. He looks far too pleased to be there, in his skintight leather cat costume and mask, a colorful drink in his hand and a broad smile on his face. He recognizes Sherlock, in the distant way he recognizes many people here whom he has seen suffering on a screen in recent weeks; not enough to greet him by name, but more than well enough to step up beside him, to give him his brightest grin, to push his mask up and out of the way and share with him an opinion he has been seeking an excuse to give voice since he got here.

"What a Crowning!" he says, with gravity, lifting his glass briefly in the direction of the scoreboard, as though in salute. "How perfect, that our Tributes should mark their rebirth with a game in which they cannot die! What a perfect contrast to the high stakes and pervasive anxiety of the Arena! How wonderfully simple: Measure your success in numbers, and not in how little of yourself you leave for the Avoxes to clean up later."

He regards the scoreboard fondly for a moment, letting the silence hang; and then he turns his smile more directly on Sherlock. His voice is friendly - the slow, heavy tone of before is completely gone, replaced with bright interest. "Great party, huh?"

[costing]

The party itself holds no great interest for Sherlock. At home he'd avoid such occasions as a rule, and a means of avoiding temptation. In Panem, he doesn't have the option, and voicing his aversions would just give the Capitol more ways to manipulate and torture him. So when Cecil approaches--and yes, Sherlock has done his research, he knows exactly who the other man is--he simply returns the words with a forced, tight grin. It's always a challenge for Sherlock to fight down his natural aversion to any kind of person, and Cecil hits all of his buttons at once. But he manages to grit his teeth through it.

"It's a display of excess the likes of which I've never seen," he says, eventually. He supposes one could take that positively, if they really wanted to. He's more interested in Cecil's assessment of the scoreboard, though he doesn't say anything about that just yet. Instead he nods over to the stage. "I'm sure the Victor will appreciate your presence."

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil is in a good place this evening - a place where he's prepared to hear exactly what he wants to hear. He's perfectly happy to take Sherlock's comment as agreement.

"I'll tell you what," he says, with the satisfied air of one settling into a conversation, "Accounting's never really been my area - my area, incidentally, is entertainment broadcasting - but I don't even want to think about what the Neverending Quell has done for the Games' budget!" He shrugs-- "So I don't."

He follows Sherlock's glance toward the stage, where Mindy presides, and his smile turns down just a little at the edges. "...ah, yes. Well-- there's plenty of evening left for an interview, after all! I figured I'd let her... bask in her victory for a few minutes first. As Victors must." He glances down at his drink, and almost as an afterthought takes a sip. "...And, well! Talking to Tributes is one thing-- I mean, I've seen you onscreen so many times I practically know you! But Victors..." He shakes his head. "I mean, what do you say to a teenage girl you recently watched shoot two grown men to death in cold blood, right?"