thecapitol | The Crowning Of The Signless

The Crowning Of The Signless

Who| Everyone.
What| The Crowning of The Signless.
Where| An alcove in a nearby mountain.
When| From dusk to dawn, on Thursday.
Warnings/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. There will be no chance to runaway.

Tributes are encouraged to sleep all during the day, before the crowning. The reason for this is revealed when they are roused at sundown and brought to the closest mountain to the city, where they are greeted by an alcove within the moutainside that has been carved into a temple to what may be an illicit faith. The stone alcove is dim-lit by candles arranged along walls and by what appears to be altars set before iron cancer signs, some plain, some inlet with intricate carvings. Bright red drapery hangs about the room, tapestries with the cancer sign and cirles of blending color spectrum. There are also some waist high leggings hung upon one wall. In the center of the room, shackles hang, glowing bright from some sort of internal heat and light. A hole in the ceiling is set on each side of it, to allow the smoke to escape from the great bonfire that roars beneath it. If one takes a seat upon any of large stones and logs aranged around it, they can see both the stars twinkling down and the way the smoke looks as though it is coming off the shackles.

The only windows otherwise are made from stained glass depicting images from the Signless's life, such as his rescue by "Alternia's First Mother" (so described on the metal plate below), "The Recording of His Teachings" depicting The Disciple writing the Signless's words into a book, "A New Follower" showing the Psiioniic joining the Signless, a boat deemed "The First Ship", and "The Execution" which features the death of the Signless before thousands of followers, a fifth troll- resembling Terezi- bearing the shackles as a necklace and another with great brown wings, a single window of Karkat and Kankri Vantas, as well as a sinister depiction of six indistinct shadowy figures of cerulean, blue, indigo, violet, tyrian, and maroon. Cave-style paintings cover the stone walls, styles ranging from simple scribbled etching to circles featuring twelve colors in circle, with bright red at the center, and yet more elaborate shadowy depictions of those in the stained glass, esepcially the Signless himself, both prior and following his execution.

But not all is dedicated to the Signless and his old posse of biblical age trolls. A shrine has been set up for redeemed and then so quickly lost victor, Matthew 'Punchy' O'Conner. Punchy has been painted upon a cave wall like he fits right into the theme. Upon his shrine lay all varieties of bling; Bling-jewelery, a bling goblet, bling boxing gloves, a hoodie, a nun habit, and a stone with a memorial rap engraved atop-- with bling, of course, all shimmering by the spotlights placed before the shrine. Refillable 40 oz bottles are lain out so that sorrowful guests, wishing to pay their respect to the boy so cruelly slain by rebels when he had turned from them, can pour one out in his honor.

Marius is also honored there with a tea light and small framed photograph set upon an empty table with an empty chair, along with souvenir versions of his and Cosette's wedding rings that guests can take home. Beneath all these rings is a photoshopped picture of javert with a single tear running down his manly face.

The only seating besides the stones and logs and Marius's single chair, are those that are sat at a table at the end of the room. Each is draped in a different color, six on each side for each district and each blood hue-- presumably of the Victor's choosing. Between these chairs sits yet one more with a tall back like a flogging jut that got the redesigned at the base to make a throne that some trolls might recognize as belonging to the Empress. The arms of the chair feature open shackles. The throne is decorated in chains of gold and jewels of all colors. The victor is given a crown of gilded flowers and thorns on chain.

Food can be found upon the altars or the victor's table, in surplus. Alternian delicacies are served, featuring insects, flavored or plain, and food made from insects. Guests may find a giant beetle being served upon a spit roast. Even the meats appear to be topped with bugs. The cakes, marshmallows (which can be roasted with stick by the fire!), and orange creamsicles may be the only things truly bug-free. Drink options are water, wine, and soda.

Stylists are encouraged to dress their tributes primarily in black, with a single bit of color put into the design matched according to district (with exception to trolls), or any manner of draping fabrics, cloaks, and costumery reminiscent of religious iconagraphy that one might expect of ancient aliens. Waist high pants and leggings are also in high regard, as well as fake horn, fangs, contacts, and anything to make guests look more trollish. The only rule is for the main colors to match to the blood assignment.

The music playing is the sort one might expect from a church, featuring mournful vocals, soft bells and melodies, and of course, organ music. But for one or two jarring differences. Where this music is coming from remains a mystery but since the space is open and clear, guests have plenty of room for dancing.

Those who don't wish to dance can talk and regale tales around the bonfire, or may instead seek out the book of "scripture" at one of the altars that features nothing more than various parables- with names that Tributes might recognize! Each Tribute has one parable contained within, telling a tale in flourished manner of a part of their life, featuring a pro-capitol moral at the end.

Elsewhere, are models of the flogging just, where guests can put their hands through the oversized cuffs and pretend to writhe in agony, an Alternian bioware helm where guests too can pretend to have their lifeforce and power used a battery for the sake of the Alternian empire, a dress-up station where guests can customize their appearance to match trolls sold into gruelling slavery to seadwellwers, and an area designed to look like a cave with extensive "Alternian" (gibberish) writings of the Signless's words, where guests too can pretend they've lost everyone they love and are carrying on their legacy by writing upon the walls and leaving their own messages of love and mourning. Not to mention, a life-sized drone with realistic piercing claws, for all your picture posing needs.

A sandpit lies just around a corner for children to make castles, dig trenches, and act out games of pretending they've trekked thousands of miles through zombie infested desert just to speak to a couple of people! Guests can also meet a "mutantblood lusus" a four-eyed crab creature with lizardlike structure-- only sized no bigger than the average dog and perhaps about as intelligent. Guests are warned not to put their hand too close, lest the claw pincers manage to pinch them.

Late into the crowning, everyone is brought out to the dark mountainside, well monitored by peacekeepers, and divided into teams. Everyone is given belts with velcro flags attached, colored according to the "blood" they were matched with by district. Those in the eighth, ninth, twelfth, third, tenth, and eleventh districts are deemed the "lowbloods. Those in the first, fourth, second, fifth, sixth, and seventh districts, are deemed the "highbloods". Each team is given a velcro board to attach the flags to. The first team to lose all their flags loses, winners getting tiny necklace copies of the shackles. The last one standing with a flag wins a larger necklace copy and the option to get it redesigned into a symbol of their choosing.

If you failed not to be "culled", fear not! All tributes receive a participation sticker at the end. This sticker features a number. It is not indicative of districts or of age, as will be announced shortly, but of the new scoring. These will be announced for everyone to hear- and pick out targets from.

The crowning officially ends with the coming dawn. And so begins, to everyone's surprise, preparation for the arena. Tributes will be going right from the crowning off to the Tribute launch tubes. Happy Hunger Games!

[Note: This is ICly on Thursday! Just before the arena on Friday!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Unlike some other trolls, Feferi doesn't stand out from the rest of District One very much in terms of color, being Tyrian blooded herself. Still, her costume is distinct, and possibly recognizable to other trolls. Tyrian-tinted piped runs from shoulder to the bottom hem of the black dress she wears, and across the chest, making the Pisces motif easily recognizable, and the tiara atop her head is far grander than her own. Her arms are laden with (thankfully fake) gold bangles of all kinds, all in allusion to her ancestor, the Empress of Alternia, Her Imperious Condescension.

Feferi doesn't appreciate the sentiment very much.

At least the similarities stop there; that much on its own wouldn't be very flashy or exciting or even all that elegant, so she's been adorned with even more accessories, as if the jewelry wasn't enough. A sheer train matching the piping on her gown attaches at the shoulders by small embroidered epaulets, the thin, wispy fabric draped both front and back, almost cape-like. Around her waist is a belt made up of several small gold chains, with a thicker band inlaid with the colors of the hemospectrum, mirroring some of the decorations. The belt is held up at one hip with an over-sized magenta gemstone, completing the spectrum. Her hair has been left down, and her makeup has been done with the same inspiration in mind, a bright shock of magenta over the eyelids with thing black outlining and gold glitter glued onto her eyebrows. At least she's getting better at wearing makeup at all.

As soon as she arrives to the party, Feferi realizes that it's a lot different when the tides are turned and its your own culture being mangled into something more glamorous than it is. She's still bitter over her loss-- she owed that win to Sollux, and she'd let it slip out of her fingers, almost literally, just because she was impatient. If she had only waited a little while longer to go get food... she could have made it. She tries to ignore it, but it sits at the back of her mind, more so than the last two crownings she's attended. If those were like rubbing salt into the wound, this is like pouring the entire bag out.

Bitter or not though, her fellow tributes don't deserve to have it taken out on them. It's not them she's frustrated with, nor does she want to show that kind of face to her friends if she can avoid it, so she sticks to attempting to chat up some of the Capitolites hanging around, as much as they'll let her. It's easier to fake being pleasant to a complete stranger who probably doesn't care about your feelings anyway, and at least she can try and garner some sympathy while pretending to concede the loss out of the goodness of her heart. Some of the things that come out of her mouth don't make her proud, but as the night progresses, it gets easier.

When she does decide to mingle with her fellow tributes, it's only for brief intervals. The food tables attract her from time to time-- being grumpy really takes a lot out of a girl, which is why she doesn't make it a habit-- and who can resist the siren call of toasted marshmallows? They're something she hasn't ever really had in the past, and she oddly enjoys watching them catch fire, even though she doesn't understand why setting food on fire makes it taste better.

She pointedly avoids the Alternian-themed areas, finding them a bit too distasteful, even for her. This goes well beyond poking fun, and she would rather not acknowledge any of it, as much as possible. The shrine to Punchy, however, fascinates her, and she spends longer than she cares to admit watching others come up to it, taking glass bottles, and pouring liquid out of it. The longer the watches, the more confusing it gets for her, but it serves as a good distraction, enough to tear her away from negative thoughts and let her puzzle it out for a while.

Edited 2015-01-21 20:06 (UTC)

Dave has been mingling around the party since he arrived, making sound bytes and clattering around in his man heels. He's not sure why Oceana thought he was ready to wear something that elevates him another 3 inches, but he is reasonably scared of her and her 3 inch nails.

He's been avoiding Punchy's shrine most of the night, but when he catches Feferi looking at it he can't help but approach her. He hesitates for a moment before putting a hand on the small of her back like a good fake boyfriend.

"Dramatic tears incoming, three, two.." He murmurs dryly, trying to duck down to rest his chin against her before his heels wobble and he decides moving downward willingly is just not a good idea. "At least he didn't die a virgin." He speaks up again finally, not sure why she's so transfixed on the shrine.

The touch surprises Feferi at first, but when she turns to see the hand's owner, she smiles and relaxes, hooking her arm around his waist. She's always been affectionate anyway, so it's an easy gesture. He's also a perfectly convenient shape and size for her to lean her head against his shoulder, though she guesses she's supporting him just as much, when she notices his shoes. Heels are hard, and Feferi understands.

"How would you know?" She gives him a sidelong glance to go with that teasing tone, but quickly moves on, not eager to question Dave's prowess. Some things are too awkward even for Feferi. "What are they doing, anyway? Is this some human corpse party ritual?"

It's true that they fit together pretty damn well, even with the added inches from the heels. It's also kind of nice to have someone to approach for affection, even if he tells himself it's for the cameras. The comfort goes a long way and he likes it more than he's willing to admit.

He pulls away just a little to give her a withering look for that comment, even if he's the one who made it awkward. "He told me, that's how." Before he died, obviously. Though he wouldn't put it past Punchy to commandeer a Ouija board to brag about his sexual escapades. The Penis Ouija never lies.

"Encouraging binge drinking beyond the grave." He hisses through his teeth, not particularly impressed with it. "It's not a ritual, it's fucking stupid." He pulls his mouth into a frown, but he knows it's not her fault for having no prior knowledge of funerals. "I dunno, though. I haven't been to one before."

"Oh..." For a moment, Feferi stares at the shrine in some mix between confusion an sympathy, not sure how seriously she should take Dave on this. In her experience, the answer is usually not at all, but she wants to think that there's some kind of meaningful purpose to any of this. She only pulls away from Dave so that she can look up at his face-- now a good few inches higher than usual-- her fins folded and eyes wide with concern, even though she's not sure that there's anything to be concerned about. "Maybe we should go get some water then. He might need it. They have been doing this all night! If it were me, I would want water instead..."

Dave wants to admit that the Capitol is probably fucking with him, that this is the kind of sick parody that they like. He would tell her what funerals should be like, but he's already pissy and he doesn't want to imagine Punchy's real funeral on top of that.

His lips purse when she looks at him, twitching as he clearly holds back his words. He lets his eyes settle on her concerned face and something about it makes him ache a little. He reaches out, as if to brush her hair to the side, but opts to tweak her fin gently instead. "It's alright, he's dead." Harsh, but true. "Nothing here can get to him. Not without a seance." And somehow it's good to say that.

"Anywayyyy..." He trails off, glancing around and then back to her. "Do trolls just eat people when they die?" Why did he ask that..

Feferi stares at him for a few seconds more, then pulls him back close to her. "Fine, if you say so! But if that is ever me, I want you to empty an entire pool of water in my honor. Okay?"

She's not as good at jokes as he is; it's a little dark. His question isn't much better though, and she shakes her head as she leans it against his shoulder.

"No, that would be weird. We just leave dead trolls out for the beasts to take care of." As if that's any less weird. But why put dead bodies in a box just to bury them? Humans are so bizarre. "Maybe we should go sit down."

The shrine doesn't seem to be improving his mood any, so she gives him a tug, trying to lead him off somewhere that it's not in direct line of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. Maybe she can get him some marshmallows while she's at it-- they cheered her up just a little bit.

"Sea burials are a thing, you know. Usually we set people on fire first, though. I mean, after they're dead. Then we throw their ashes in the ocean." When did he become an expert on funeral methods? All he knows is he wants to be cremated because the dim reality of being a zombie is not one he wants to know.

"Yeah, you're right. That's not weird at all." He says, after having explained that humans burn dead people and threw their vacuum baggies of life dust into the watery abyss of the sea so they can mingle with fish shit and jizz.

He stumbles a little when she tugs him, but he steadies himself easily and follows suit. "Sitting sounds ideal, you're a genius." He scans around for chairs, but he isn't trying very hard. "Find me somewhere to rest my ass and I'll propose."

With Dave in tow, Feferi weaves through the crowd of people, still ignoring their egregious choice of costumes, to find a little bank of stump-chairs near the bonfire. She holds her hands out to help steady him, really meaning well. She understands his pain right now completely and fully.

"Do you need help? Don't fall, we cannot have you getting hurt, now can we?" Even if he is a big buoy, Feferi still hasn't gotten herself out of coddling mode. She never did get to the bottom of whatever it was that was bothering him, and while she likes to think she's pieced it together, she still doesn't have the whole story. But, she figures, he's resigned himself to this. She would stop coddling if he would just tell her.

Maybe.

Since Feferi clearly has experience with murder shoes, Dave trusts her judgment and her steady hands. It's probably the easiest trip across the room he's had all night. All the better because it lacks any actual tripping.

Still, he has his pride, so he looks indignant in the face of coddling despite letting her help him. "I'm not eighty, a bruised hip isn't gonna doom me." It's the bruised pride he's worried about more than anything, but they make it to the stumps eventually so he can sit his ass down. "See? I'm fine, you're fine. A couple of regular walk-gooders."

It seems like it should be her responsibility to fuss over his mental state right now, not after how that Arena went for her and how this crowning is probably rubbing it in. He fumbles awkwardly with the words for a moment before he finally says them out loud. "You wanna talk about it?"

Feferi Peixes | OTA

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You alright with a really late tag in?

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