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!]

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To anyone even somewhat familiar with Captain Jack Sparrow, his appearance at the Crowning will be noticeably different from the norm around the Training Center. His stylist had decided to 'clean him up' in preparation of the event, and so she'd managed to pin the pirate down long enough to trim his tangled and frayed dreadlocks off and wash his hair into something more appropriately manageable -- visually, at least -- to the Capitolites.

Thankfully enough, though, Jolie had allowed him to keep the longer goatee and its accompanying beads. His bandanna had been replaced by one dyed the District-and-party-specific jade hue, but Jack had kept the old, familiar trinkets that usually draped over it. The clothes that he'd worn (and worn again and again) since day one of his arrival were replaced with a charcoal-colored jacket and vest made of soft velvet, clean and fresh, and accented with jade-green buttons.

Of course Jack had fought the changes. His image had been built over a couple decades, a culmination of life experiences and struggles, of deaths and tragedies and adventures, all delicately interwoven into his attire. But in the same vein, the pirate understood the importance of presentation to the Capitol. If it meant relenting for just a night, just for appearances, then so be it.

(A. Food)

None of this meant a thing to Jack. He wasn't interested in the religious symbology that plagued the décor, he wasn't interested in the Arena's newest Victor or the apparent torture device -- the flogging jut -- that garnished part of the room. As far as the pirate was concerned, it all held next to no significance to him.

Instead, Jack opted to furtively snag an entire bottle of wine and, after a few hefty gulps into it, sample the bizarre insect-themed cuisine. He'll unceremoniously nudge himself into the nearest space to sit, a plate of food in hand and half-filled wine bottle in the other, and try out one of the dishes.

But based on the dish, whoever happens to be next to him may see the pirate chew a couple times then stick his tongue out in disgust, or -- for those less fortune -- see him lean over and spit it out nearby. Other times, Jack will incline his head and mutter, "Eh. Not so bad."

(B. The bonfire.)

Later into the evening, after the pirate had consumed a fair amount of the wine, you can find him relaxing near the bonfire with a fresh, full bottle of in hand.

Depending on how much later it is, Jack will have started to hum -- then whistle, then sing -- one of his favorite raunchy shanties. If anyone ventures close enough, the pirate will motion towards them to join in.

(C. Wild card!)

Capture the flag? Drunken singing/dancing? Whatever suits your fancy, feel free to post it!

Edited 2015-01-23 07:38 (UTC)

Eponine had been watching the man with some amusement. It was unusual in this place to find someone who had even worse manners than she did, and it tickled her to see a fully grown man indulging himself. The hidden bottle of wine made her laugh too: she used to do that at these parties.

"You're a tribute, aren't you, Sir?" She asked. "I don't know no Capitol people who do stuff like that. And you must be new, for I don't recognise you."

She sat herself down close by, folding her long dress carefully so as not to damage it. "The food is usually so good I cannot stop eating!" She grinned.

Apparently, the pirate's mere existence -- clothing, attitude, culture, hygiene, etc. -- had been more than sufficient enough in offending the majority of Panem from the very moment that he'd arrived. Not that that mattered much to him, in the end.

But Jack had also been around the world and back enough times to know that sampling the local cuisine was a must, even if it looked, on the whole, disgusting as all hell. Besides, wine always made everything taste better. Or, really, alcohol in general did.

"You'd be right about that, on both counts." The pirate flashes a warm smile to her, taking a moment to down more of his bottle. "Captain Jack Sparrow." He caps the introduction off with a tap to his temple with two fingers. "I'd venture that you're a Tribute as well?"

Later on in the evening, when she was beginning to get tired, Arya had gravitated over toward the bonfire, enjoying its warmth, the roaring and crackling sounds that came from it, and watching the little sparks jump from the ling fingers of flame. She'd eaten far too many marshmallows, the sugar from which was probably the only thing keeping her going now instead of curling up and sleeping in a corner somewhere.

A large group come toward her, talking very loudly at each other, and she circles round the bonfire to avoid them. It's there she stumbles across Jack, singing a song with lyrics so raunchy her mother would have been appalled that she'd heard them, though still not as bad as some she'd heard on the Kingsroad. She listens, amused, unable to stop herself from giggling at parts.

The pirate has taken to conducting his own song by himself, both hands swinging back and forth with the beat, a few fingers on one hand wrapped around the neck of his wine bottle as liquid sloshes wildly against the glass. The giggling is what finally grabs his attention away from the warm crackle of the fire, just as he's neared towards the tail end of it. The words eventually die off from his lips, and the pirate cracks an amused half-smile at the young girl.

He chugs the wine, then indicates for her to sit next to him. "I've another one, if you'd like, lass." Much, much less raunchy, of course, because she wasn't his intended audience.

"All right, then." She sounds a little too eager. Something so simple as sitting by the fire listening to songs, this is possibly the first thing since her arrival in the Capitol that she can connect to. She seats herself next to him, crossing her legs, feeling the glow of the fire on her face, looking at him expectantly.

Eager is great, Jack loves it. And it's nice for him, too, to fall back into something more familiar in this strange place. He scratches his index finger against his mustache, thinking, then his face lightens up.

"Oh! This is a good one."

A second is taken to clear his throat and prepare. Then the pirate swishes both hands back and forth once again, briefly gesturing for Arya to join in the motion so she can be a part of the song, then starts into singing the shanty. At the last of each chorus line, Jack emphasizes it by swinging out the hand holding his wine bottle.

A couple minutes later, once the song's finished, the pirate will grin at her. "How 'bout it?" Then, adds: "It'd be better with more to sing it, o' course."

It's very different to the songs Arya's used to, and he's right, it sounds as though it was made for far more people to sing all together. There's a raw part of her that she feels bubble up inside, the same part she'd usually associated with the wolves more than anything, craving the simple togetherness that sort of singing brings.

She claps loudly when he finishes, looking delighted.

"You're good at this." Telling the stories of the songs, entertaining an 11 year old, you name it.

It was a short-drag shanty, meant to coordinate the crew in jobs that needed a quick punch of energy to haul or pull a line, and it's definitely better with more voices to accompany it. But even so Jack enjoyed the old, comfortable familiarity that it brought about.

It made him miss the sea, and his ship, even more. If that was even possible.

The clap earns her a brighter grin and a short chuckle from the pirate, and his fingers tap to his temple in gratitude. "Thank ye, lass." He straightens up in his seat, then gestures at her. "I could teach you one, if you were so inclined."

"All right." She sits up a little straighter, paying attention, racking her brain to think of an appropriate song to offer in exchange.

The next one has a faster tempo to it, and was possibly one of Jack's favorites.

He lifts a hand, one finger lifted and the rest partially curled towards his palm. "I'll take care of the verse of it, and have you sing the chorus." He hums a few seconds of it to himself, getting down the beat, then, "Drink up me hearties, yo ho!" A grin. "That'll be your part, lass."

Clearing his throat, Jack begins the song:

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me,
We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot --"

And at this point, the pirate gestures at her to pick up the chorus line.

Edited (oops html apparently i dont know how to use italics lmf) 2015-02-20 00:43 (UTC)

Arya listens closely, swaying from side to side at the livelier tune. When Jack gestures to her she's caught a little off guard, expecting a little more of the song to pass before her part, but after a second she responds enthusiastically, although very slightly out of tune. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho!" She grins: she likes this one already.

"We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot -- "

It's a tad more unsavory than the previous song, sure, but the children of his time were no strangers to the darker sides of life. Another pause is taken to allow Arya to repeat the chorus, then Jack continues:

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We extort, we pilfer, we filch, and sack -- "

And cue Arya's turn once more.

Arya was no stranger to the darker side of life either, but it was all too fresh in her memory, and as the lyrics progress some of them end up too close to her own experiences. She still sings the response, but somewhat less enthusiastically.

He initially continues on with the next line, oblivious:

"Maraud and embezzle and even highjack -- "

Then the girl's level of enthusiasm registers. He pauses because oops, perhaps that was too much for the girl, and glances over at her. "All's well, lass? I could think of another song, if you'd like."

"No, I don't mind," she says quickly, partly because she's annoyed at herself for her own weakness, and partly because she really does want to hear how it finishes. "It's just that when you've actually seen ravaging and sacking, they don't sound so fun any more." She stares at the fire contemplatively, before turning back to him to add, "And I don't even know what embezzle means."

There's a bit of gravity that slips into his expression. Poor girl.

"Ah, then. Best to take it more as the light-hearted shanty it's meant to be, aye?"

She turns to him, and Jack scratches at his chin. "It means to steal. In a manner of speaking."

Arya shrugs, not minding that one so much first of all, then thinking of how Needle had been stolen away from her. "It depends on what's being stolen and why."

"Anythin' at all, really. That's what piracy is, what it means to be to go on account as such. In a sense." That included ships, of course, and Jack had his own aggravating and numerous experiences with that and his beloved Pearl.

But it was part of the life, if you lived it.

"And the reason, most usually, is because whoever did the stealin' merely wanted whatever it was to be stolen."

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The Crowning Of The Signless

Jack Sparrow | OTA

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