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thecapitol2015-01-20 10:58 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-20 10:58 pm
Entry tags:
- aang,
- albert heinrich,
- daryl dixon,
- event: crowning,
- felicity yoshida,
- firo prochainezo,
- haruto soma,
- jason compson iv,
- karkat vantas,
- kousuke nitou,
- linden lockhearst (l),
- phillip gray,
- porrim maryam,
- rick grimes,
- roland deschain,
- sam wilson,
- sigma klim,
- swann honeymead,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- wesker,
- ✘ arya stark,
- ✘ brock samson,
- ✘ bruce banner,
- ✘ dandy mott,
- ✘ dave strider,
- ✘ dorian pavus,
- ✘ eponine thenardier,
- ✘ feferi peixes,
- ✘ gary epps,
- ✘ holly day,
- ✘ jack sparrow,
- ✘ jane,
- ✘ jolie,
- ✘ luke,
- ✘ maxwell trevelyan,
- ✘ milla vodello,
- ✘ nill,
- ✘ piers nivans,
- ✘ tess,
- ✘ the iron bull,
- ✘ thorin oakenshield,
- ✘ venus dee milo
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!]
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!]
no subject
But the hug was good, as Sam's hugs always are, tight and warm, all of feeling. And the fact Sam didn't offer to let him punch him is good too, what with him not really wanting to explain right how highblood strength meant he could break Sam's bones without even fuckin meaning to.
He sighs. "THINK LIKE A BROTHER COULD BE MAKING MOTHERFUCKING DISTANT UP ON THIS NOISE. Like there be some point where... you know for sure as you can't be that, right?" He looks at Sam, as though for confirmation, then back down. "I CAN'T CULL NO MORE. Yet I still see it more likely me ripping some fucker's arm off than a stupid flag if I go out. THEY BE THINKING THEM RAINBOW BOARDS BE FUNNY, WELL LET ME BE TO MOTHERFUCKING TELL, I STILL PAINT AND I'M MOTHERFUCKING GOOD AT IT. I got good for a reason and they got no idea..."
He shakes head. "THIS WHOLE CROWNING. It's a threat on my friends. IT'S A MOTHERFUCKING SHOWING OF ME. Been quiet on it this whole time but all of flood is what I'm meaning to handling and I can't be doing it."
no subject
"I don't know if there's ever going to be a time when you know 100% that you're past it, when you never slip. The best you can do is almost never. The best you can do is exactly what you're doing right now, man, is recognizing what you can't handle and what might push you too far, and taking steps not to put yourself in that situation." He pauses just long enough to grimace a little. "As much as you can, when you got others working against you."
Goddamn Capitol.
He lets out an exhale, watching Initiate closely. "If you can't keep it quiet, you don't have to. If you got something you need to get out, you know I'm here."
no subject
"Didn't want to cull at first," He starts. "DIDN'T WANT IT UP AT ALL. But you can't... ALTERNIA DON'T ALLOW THAT!" He's said. He's said that a lot and yet still persist ones what he's jealous of, like Signless who never felt a cull until here or Terezi who managed to keep tall. "Or it didn't, not for me... I LEARNED TO PAINT BY DOING IT UP ON MY HIVE. They bleed all colors, trolls do. EVERY COLOR DO THEY MAKE TO MOTHERFUCKING BLEED. And when they were on my wall..." A glistening rainbow... "THEM OTHERS LEFT ME THE FUCK ALONE. They was too scared to hurt me. SO FOR ALL THE WHAT WASN'T THEY BECAME PART. My whole damn hive was a miracle rainbow. A MOTHERFUCKING SLAUGHTER SHOW WAS MY HIVE. And then inside where it was being secret I could have all my treasured bits safelike." The outside was chaos, but there, deep inside that rundown hive, he'd had a grand mural full of beautiful things. Miracles. Hope, family, friends. Things he couldn't get all otherwise. He actually thought that, if wiped out from the mural, he might lose some of the things up in it. Like a Da who hardly cared for him anyway. Mirth he misses the old goat. He's got temptation in him to get up and find Sigma, his "Father", and lean upon him, but Sigma's still playing the game.
"ONCE I STARTED, I COULDN'T STOP," He continues. "I forgot I didn't like it. I FUCKING LOVED IT! S'why, for what Capitol did... I'm grateful. I'M GLAD THEY MOTHERFUCKING FUCKED ME UP! I wouldn't have been able to stop. CAN REMEMBER HOW IT FELT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING BURN UP UNDER THE SKIN, IN MY THROAT, ALL TWITCH-DIGITS. I don't care if it means I keep my head down or keep things clean, it's better this way. I'M BETTER THIS WAY. But the fact I had to..." To break again, just to be something new. He has to recollect himself to speak again.
"I STILL LIKE TO PAINT. It's beautiful. I'M GOOD AT IT. I can be reaching the Messiahs all by and getting understandings what all I wouldn't. I COULD PAINT FOREVER, AND I'D BE ALL SORTS OF CONTENTED. But I get these voices up in, saying as like I shouldn't. THAT IS MAKES A MESS. That it makes me a monster. AND THEN THERE'S THIS HERE MAKING IT UP A GAME." He gestures out angrily at the field, then drops his hand. His eyes go dull, as all he says, "You ever want to tear out of your own skin and just crush the bones what's left?"
He realises exactly what he's said and groans again, sticking his face back in his hands.
no subject
The content doesn’t bother him, at least not on more than a vague, distant level. He already knows the kind of person that Initiate’d been, and it’s far from the first time that someone has told him about the terrible things they did in their past, that sometimes they still don’t know if they’re proud of or not. It’s war, though as usual, the fact that he still doesn’t quite have a handle on Alternia means there’s an extra step as he tries to process all of that.
But there’s that question, and even if it makes Initiate hide his face again, at least Sam knows exactly how to answer it.
“Yes,” he says, very quietly, before the corners of his lips quirk upwards in a very brief, not-quite smile. “I didn’t ever put it that way, but yeah.”
Sam pauses, running a hand over his jaw and trying to sort all this out in his mind.
“I can't know what it’s like, growing up where you did. Living the way you had to back then, living with all of that right now. But I know looking at yourself in the mirror and not liking what you see, and not knowing how to get out from under everything that you think is wrong.” He pauses, nodding out towards the game still going on. “This - if I’m getting you right - isn’t just a reminder, it’s a mockery.”
no subject
"I ALWAYS DO THIS." He gestures out at the display, where motherfuckers get their game on. "Where I know better, I know what motherfuckers is wont to do. WHAT THE CAPITOL IS WONT TO DO. But I trust them anyway or I fucking think at this shit won't happen. OR LIKE I CAN TAKE IT." He makes a scoffing noise. "So fuckin stupid..."
Still a kid what waits on shore, gets the shit kicked out of him because he hopes and hopes and hopes that one day an old goat's gonna come on back, be his Da again, protect him, take him away, drown him, something. Some point or other, everything would work out. He believes that but he still hates himself for it.
He sighs. "I FEEL GUILTY. You understand and I got appreciate for that. MAD MOTHERFUCKING RESPECTS YO. But I wish you didn't. YOU SHOULDN'T FEEL NOTHING LIKE ME. I shouldn't be burdening you, or nobody. DONE THAT ENOUGH." But after enough pause, he adds, "Thanks."
no subject
Sucks is… a very mild way of putting it. It bothers Sam a little, that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to try to stop shit like this from happening. It’s worse than back home - even there he can’t stop triggers, they’re gonna be everywhere, and all he can do is try to help people handle them. But at least there, it’s usually innocent stuff - thunder, a car backfiring, the loved ones of the people you couldn’t save, a plastic bag in the middle of the road. Here, it’s intentional and manipulative and Sam hates it.
He doesn’t tell Initiate not to feel guilty for it. You can’t control other people’s feelings, and guilt isn’t the kind of thing that you can stop just because someone tells you that you shouldn’t feel that way. Instead, he focuses on that last bit.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, but there’s no way he can just leave it at that. He leans in a little, pushing his shoulder against Initiate’s. “You’re not burdening me. There’s nothing you could ever do to make you a burden to me, you got that? I choose where my time goes, who I spend it with, and if I didn’t want everything you are, I’d have walked away by now.”
no subject
Sam bumps him and pulls a small smile out. Like a motherfucking magician being of soft words. Words what got the meaning to widen his eyes and catch his breath a little bit. Feels like Sam can see right through him, down to the ragged beach kid with the bruised body and rainbow claws. It's frightening and a little miraculous.
His mouth opens, but no words come. He closes it again, dropping his head down. He bumps Sam's shoulder right back. His ears flick and fold down against his head. It's hard, being made to feel so much smaller than what all you are, even if it ain't in a bad way. He's still the kid up on that beach. And so, swearing by anyone that they'd stay by him means more than what he can say. He scrubs at his face all sudden, pressing it rather as not to smear the paint.
"I'M GLAD YOU STAYED," He says, looking wayside. Please don't ever motherfucking go.
He swallows hard, and looks on up. "...There's one good thing. CAPITOL FINALLY GOT THE NOCTURNAL BIT RIGHT. Could maybe even find my stars..."
no subject
And he smiles a little, keeping his shoulder pressed up against Initiate's.
"Me too." Sam'd like to say that none of this is something that he would have signed up for - but it's not true. If he'd known that Steve was here, and Natasha and Bucky, and now Initiate and the rest of the people here he's come to care about, he'd have barreled on in the same as he did when Steve and Natasha showed up at his door.
As long as he can still help, in any way, he's glad he stayed here.
When Initiate mentions the stars, Sam leans back a little, looking on up at them. "Tell me about them?"
no subject
"WHEN MY SPECIES DIED," He starts, "THE WORLDS OF HUMANS FOLLOWED. There's not all lot what as to tell, but there's one sign certain as Messiahs put out for me, and the rest of us. MESSIAHS PUT STARS UP IN YOUR HUMAN SKIES, HERE AND IN PLACES OTHER, SO I'M TOLD." He points up, out into the dark. It's hard to spot. According to what he read, his stars were darkest, just as his blood is darkest of all colors. But, he thinks he finds it. A dim triangular shape what he makes to trace.
"Capricorn," He says, a lightness coming back to his heart. "THE SEAGOAT. That's me. AND MY OTHER SELF AND MY DESCENDANT AND HIS OWN ALTERNATE. That's my stars up in your sky. MY BONES TURNED TO ITS DUST. And I got myself lucky as still to see it. NOW THAT? That's a true miracle, that. A MOTHERFUCKING BLESSING UNTO ME." He smiles up, soft and fond. Eyes full of literal stars.
And a friend at his side. A friend what all he's shared so much with, who's come to be so close so fast... it's overwhelming and scary but it's so much good. He's grateful. Mirth, he's grateful for so much here, Messiahs blessed him by sending him here. And Sam's just one of them gifts. Whether he knows it or not.
"My name's Kurloz," He blurts sudden. "THE INITIATE'S MY TITLE BUT... my hatchname is Kurloz Makara. TROLLS WHAT GOT TITLES AIN'T TO SHARE NAME EXCEPT WITH QUADRANTMATES AND FRIENDS WHAT'S BEING REAL MOTHERFUCKING CLOSE." All going flushed is he, ears flicking down with cool indigo at their tips. "So, a special secret is it to be, just for you to know..."
Even still, he's comfortable, for now, not moving from Sam's side.
no subject
Sam's still looking up at the sky when Initiate blurts out his actual name, but it snaps his attention almost immediately to his friend instead.
It's not like he can really comprehend what it means that Initiate - Kurloz? - had told him that, but from what he's said and the way he's reacting to saying it right now, Sam's pretty sure he can understand it enough.
He grins a little, and can't help but throw an arm around his shoulders, hugging him tight for a second before he lets go.
"Kurloz, huh? You still want me to stick to calling you Initiate?"
no subject
Perks of his kind having created humans, he supposed.
It's always a gamble whether a human will understand such things as titles and naming. Shepard couldn't get it through for longest time what difference a name and title meant. But Sam seems to get it. The sudden hug and grin he gets definitely confirms it.
He finds himself grinning back. Grinning back and leaning into the warmth of that hug like he can make his cold ass self warmer by it.
"WHEN AT THERE'S OTHERS BEING UP AROUND, INITIATE WILL DO," He says. "But if it's just me and you, you can call me Kurloz. IF YOU WANT. Makara is fine too." He can't deny the thrill it is, to hear his own name in his ears by someone else's voice.
no subject
There's a lot more to titles on Alternia, he figures, but he thinks he can get close enough.
"Yeah, of course I want, Kurloz. Thanks, man, for trusting me with that."
Sam pauses a moment, looking back up at the sky. "It's... not anything close to the same, but back when I had the wings, I was Falcon. Couldn't even tell my family that." He gives a slightly wry smile. "Then I told Steve and Natasha, and now I think it's one of those things that's starting to spread. But there's been a couple of times I forgot I hadn't told you, so."
no subject
He thinks of the story he read, of his future, where he couldn't even get his drone picks to say his name. When the tiniest sliver of people in a thousands sweeps what knew it all got being dead by his hands. This is a better story, right here, where all he's being remembered as someone more than a shadow. He's being someone real, even if just as unbelievable. He's grateful for that too.
Sam calls it differentlike than what's of Alternian titles. He's right. Keeping a title secret instead of name was some backwards ass alien shit. He counts the characters up in that and it ain't even being eight. But he grins wide even still, looking delighted.
"THE FALCON. Motherfucker, that's awesome. GOT YOURSELF A GREAT TITLE AT TO YOU." He's a little jealous, truth told. But mostly fond. "'S fitting," He says decisively.
no subject
He can’t help but grin a little at Kurloz’s reaction, pleased. Despite everything, he’s proud of being the Falcon, and he isn’t even surprised at how quickly he’d gone back into thinking of that as part of himself, even after years of believing he wouldn’t get it back.
“Hell yeah,” he agrees. “And it was. Fitting, I mean, maybe one day it will be again.” He doesn’t explain that. They’ve already talked about the possibility of him getting his wings back, he doesn’t need to go into detail here.
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He looks back to Sam and grins. "I GOT MY BELIEVING IT WILL BE," He says.
His weariness is being chased on away. He ought to thank for that, thank Messiahs that they've allowed him here, that they've brought people like Sam to him. His hands fold together, and silently, he prays and gives his gratitude. Then finally, "I got a good feeling on it, I do, brother Falcon."