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

A

This was not at all the sort of party that Haruto had expected to be attending. The last one, with the police theme... well, he could buy that. That was at least familiar, on some level. But this, the cave, the music, the stained glass... it was otherworldly. He hadn't thought that the Capitol could pull off otherworldly, their idea of glamour and beauty was so crass and strange. He wasn't sure how his outfit (second from the left with a rust undershirt and deep red rings on his fingers) fit into all of this, and he was not enjoying the troll horns stuck to his head or the contact lenses in his eyes.... maybe it would all click once the evening went further along. Maybe.

It's still a party, though, something that he's not all that good at. If he can find an excuse to wallflower around and keep out of the way, he'll do it. And hello, what's this book that people are occupying themselves with? After a pair of Capitolites steps awy from it, Haruto goes up to the altar, starts to skim it... and then realizes, halfway through a parable, that he recognizes this one.

"What the.... 'And little Kousuke learned that his grandmother was harsh with him because she cared for him so very much. And he promised from then on to be no trouble, for he cared for his grandmother very much in kind.'" There is a pause for a snort, and he passes a hand over his face. "No, no, it didn't go like that...."

B

The evening is wearing on, and so is the adhesive that the District 11 stylist used to stick the yellow and orange backwards-arcing horns to his head. They're starting to itch, and it's starting to impede Haruto's ability to pretend that he's enjoying himself. He's off not far from the refreshments table, turned away, scratching like mad at his forehead trying to make the torment stop, when he goes at it a little too hard and snaps the horn entirely free. And away it goes, flying through the air end over end. "Aaah!" But where will it stop? Hopefully not in anyone's eye. Or someone's drink.

"Hey, Haruto, what'cha doing?" Nitou comes up behind Haruto to see what's so funny. He looks especially ridiculous; his stylist had some sort of insane vision that involved only a pair of black parachute pants and a hooded cloak with a absurd amount of fur that left him dealing with ridiculous fluff in addition to claws and fangs and nubbly little horns stuck to his head.

He's also holding a bowl of something that's been covered in mayonnaise, and of course he's eating it as he peers over Haruto's shoulder. "Hey!" Oh, he's reading that parable, alright. And he sounds very much indignant about it.

"A-ah, Nitou, I..." He turns and starts to offer the book, but the getup that the other wizard is in gives him pause. Well. Now he doesn't feel so bad about the multi-layered drapey black thing and all the red rings they stuck on him.

Maybe it's the bowl of bugs-and-mayo, and maybe it's the indignant protest he made after catching a glimpse at the book, but Haruto laughs. And the offers the book of Not Very Factual Parables, grinning. "What, what? You need to read it from the start. Look, look, there are even little drawings...."

It's instinctive. Doesn't take more than a motherfucking thought really. Or any thought up at all, considering he was making on laying low here, on this night.

The horn is snatched out of the air, motion being like motherfucking lightening. He brings it down to look at slow, eyes narrowing at the false appendage.

Then, he's looking around for a motherfucker what's got one-- a fake one-- to match.

When he sees just who caught the horn, Haruto cringes and freezes in place. Crap. That's.... that's one of the actual trolls, isn't it? He felt awkward enough being dressed up like this without possibly offending someone.

He immediately turns himself around and makes for the refreshments table, because surely that is subtle and not at all suspicious.

(It's probably suspicious. He's still missing one horn and it matches the one that just got caught.)

He spots the motherfucker all because of the quick turn and the way all he seems to busy himself. He lifts a brow, then decisively walks over to Haruto.

He gives a tap upon Haruto's shoulder with a claw, the horn held in the other hand.

"I'M GOING AT TO ASSUME LIKE YOU DIDN'T SET THIS FOR FLIGHT MOTHERFUCKING PURPOSEFUL," He says.

Well, no avoiding the matter now. Haruto makes a faintly choked noise as he turns around, not even having had the time to grab himself some food from the refreshments table.

"No!" He's pretty sure that's the right answer to give. "It just sort of... came off!" And he rubs at the spot on his head where it was up until very recently glued. The spot is a red and irritated mess. "Which... really, is for the best, the other one doesn't want to budge, though...." Yes, yes, alright, let's direct any possible anger into something useful. Like getting the other stupid horn off of him.

His brows rise. He folds his arms over his chest.

"Don't know, brother. LOOKS LIKE THAT OTHER AIN'T BEING COMING OFF. Might take off your head up instead. A GREATER MESS THAT ALL WOULD BE WOULDN'T IT? Think of the carnage un-camera caught. WOULD BE TRAVESTY."

There's a hint of smirk starting to form. Just a small one. "You're sure as you didn't throw it? ALL SIMPLY FELL OF DIAGONAL, YEAH?"

Haruto is not normally someone who lets himself be intimidated. He is too cool for that. But the alternating speaking and shouting is really throwing him off. Every time the volume rises again, he gives an instinctive flinch. "Aah, aah, wait, wait..." Take of his head? "No? No!"

That's not the right answer to the real question here. Damn it. He coughs and gives another tug at the remaining horn, grimacing because all he manages to do is pull at the skin beneath it. "I am really sure. Why would I do that? I've got a whole bunch of other things I could throw if I were in a throwing kind of mood."

Alright, alright, enough being cruel. The stern look breaks and he's laughing. He shakes his head and holds the horn out to Haruto again, for him to take.

"You're going to cause more problem at for you trying to pull it off, looks like. OUGHT WAIT FOR A STYLIST TO GET AT IT PROPER. That way you ain't putting holes in your nug or taking out no eye."

Haruto takes the horn uncertainly. Does he really want it? Is this good laughter? He briefly considers trying to re-stick it on his head, but then just tucks it into a pocket and sighs.

"If I go a stylist, they're just going to want to stick the other one back on. I can't win."

He laughs again. "NAW. Probably not. BUT YOU'D HAVE BETTER LUCK THAN WHAT AT YOU IS. Can try on approach for nicety. BE ALL GETTING THE FEAR UP IN, THOUGH THAT MAY WELL JUST GET A BROTHER A WACK DONE BY PEACEKEEPERS. Or be getting wait on until this shindig gets dug."

He shrugs all helpless. What can a motherfucker be at to do.

"I've had enough whacks from peacekeepers, thanks..." And he's not inclined to get any more, at least not for a reason better than 'please get this stupid horn off my head'. He was one of the newbies that pitched a stupid fit at the reaping for the kid's arena, and it had left a fairly solid impression on the whole.

"Maybe I'll just keep the one on. I'm being unique. Yeah." He half-snorts, half-laughs, then turns his attention properly to the troll in front of him. "So... you're Initiate, right?" He watches a lot of TV. You pick up on things sometimes.

He winces. Motherfucker knows his name up already. That ain't never a good sign. Hopefully it was merely being of his arenas recent. The arena for wrigglers where-at he'd failed the basic rule of crossing finish line with points and got his ass melted in acid, then this recent one. Those two, they at least were mostly hamrless. His Avoxing lay before that. And then... he doesn't want to think about those ones.

"I AM. And who is this unique motherfucker up before me?" He inquires.

It was totally from watching that tragic stuff in the children's arena. They'd locked him in a room with no way to look away from every dramatic angle, instant replay, and extreme close-up of the carnage. It's a hell of a way to remember someone, though it really is better to see this guy in one piece and being sharp-tongued than... what had happened to him in there.

"Haruto Soma. Kamen Rider Wizard." Then, a pause. "If that doesn't mean anything, don't... just don't worry. It means 'masked'. I can't say the word mask in my own language, but my title, I guess I get to keep that?" He lets out a snort of a laugh and shakes his head. "This place is crazy."

"HEH, PREACHING CHOIRWAYS YOU UP AND IS, BROTHER," He says. It's strange. One gets to used to not speaking their own way, simply understanding everyone the fuck else. It's not ever being any less weird though all the same. He misses Alternian.

It also reminds that humans weren't necessarily being all of languages samelike either. He wonders if that's a product of different worlds or times.

"Ain't know what the fuck a masked rider's being though. SOUNDS BADASS."

"They took your language too, I'm guessing? I don't know why it makes me so angry, it does. It really does." And here was something they had in common, even if it was small. They were both foreigners more foreign than most, weren't they? Though it was very likely that the grey alien troll was the one who was having the worst go of it... so maybe he'd better not say any of it aloud.

Especially when he's being indirectly called badass. He gives a shrug and smile that's humble-but-not-humble. "It's pretty badass. There've been Masked Riders for years and years, guys that ride motorcycles and fight evil." And, more often than not, give up a little piece of their humanity while doing it. But that doesn't need to be brought up right this moment. "I'm one of the newer ones."

"Ha, course they did. COURSE THEY GOT ON THEIVING THAT WHAT WAS MINE. The fuck else is new." He rolls his eyes, but is still grinning. He's gotten used to it. Almost. "PISSED A BROTHER OFF TOO. Something what's being your intrinsic. SOMETHING AS THEY SHOULDN'T BE ABLE WHAT TO TAKE. S'like erasing you was ever being anywhere else."

He knows that look what Haruto gets. He knows it well. It's that look what soldiers get, remarking upon their infantries and titles. Pride and unities. He gets it. It makes him smile, just a bit.

And he actually knows a bit about what motorcycles is, thanks at to a Capitol event some time ago. "NO SHIT?" He says. "And how you liking it?"

This guy really has a way with words, once you get used to the delivery. Haruto nods along with it all, feeling where Initiate is coming from. "If I finally get to leave, I really hope they can give it back."

But Rider talk is okay, too. And probably a safer subject of discussion than complaining about stuff. "Aaaah..." He rubs absently at one arm, making a show of thinking about the matter. He knows perfectly well how he feels about it, but working out how to say it is another thing entirely. "I'm glad to be one. I'm glad that I get to go out there and help people. And I'm glad to have met the people that I've met." 'Glad' barely begins to cover it. Becoming Wizard, being given a purpose in life in the middle of the mess that it had all become... that's everything to him.

He's not one to be a crusher of hope, at least not lately, but that pulls from him some concern. Especially running into that last fuck with the mayonnaise. But Haruto is smarter, or he hopes he is, so he tries on just giving a look warning, a sympathetic one, but all still.

There wasn't no leaving this place. Capitol wasn't going to give them jack fucking shit.

"YEAH? Heh, I hear what preach you got there. GONNA DO SOMETHING CAN'T BE GOING HALF ASS, RIGHT? Sounds as you had it made." Past tense.

There's a lot in that look, and Haruto's not sure that he fully grasps it... but he's not worried, so he shrugs. "If you don't have hope, then you've got nothing." But too much talk of that is liable to cause trouble....

"When you get a chance like that, you don't turn it down!" And he grins, even if the 'chance' was a grim command on a cold beach. "It's hard work, but anything worth doing is hard, right?"

If you don't have hope, then you have nothing? Maybe. He could get by that it wasn't being good. But he's still not sure in nothing. When there wasn't no hope, there was always being rage. But then, he knew that more intimately than most.

At least they can agree on the latter noise. "FUCK YEAH IT IS. All sorts of wicked business what to be about by training for sweeps, or making art of. FUNNY HOW ALL THAT GOES."

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The Crowning Of The Signless

Haruto Soma | OTA!

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Sorry for the delay! Notification problems.

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