etcircenses: (Default)
Panem Events ([personal profile] etcircenses) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2015-01-20 10:58 pm

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!]
samson: (eyeshift)

[personal profile] samson 2015-02-10 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, they were all outta face paint, I guess," he deadpans back, his gaze quickly flicking down and back up. It's not polite to stare and Brock isn't some skeevy douchebag, but it's a little hard to ignore the way just about half her body is hanging out in the open like that.

He'd been surprised to see how Venus was in more intimate moments, nearly a polar opposite from how she came onto him and how she's slinking around here. But not everyone is the same in all facets of their lives. There are times that Brock envies that sort of depth -- not that he's completely shallow, but moments where he feels safe enough to let his guard down are rare. Not just here, in this world, but anywhere.

At her question, he glances around skeptically. "Do they even have religion here? You gotta wonder if they're taking cues from anything or just making it up."
celebrityskinned: (Basic - Examine)

[personal profile] celebrityskinned 2015-02-12 06:23 am (UTC)(link)
For what it's worth, Venus doesn't seem bothered at all about how much flesh she's baring, and the effort she puts into making sure there are no wardrobe malfunctions is completely invisible, as if it's happening by luck or chance and not conscious design.

"From what I've pieced together, they really don't. Like people use 'Jesus Christ' and 'Oh my God' as swears but they have no idea who those people are. And I ain't seen a single church or mosque in the Capitol, just a few in the Districts, and those seemed really...I don't know. In District Five they seemed more like town halls than anything else." Having something of worth to contribute, she finds herself nearly rambling, eager to get out information faster than she's speaking words.

"You religious at all?"
samson: (:/)

[personal profile] samson 2015-02-15 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
Brock raises his eyebrows a little at that -- he had no idea anyone had actually been out to the Districts. As far as he knew, nothing really existed beyond the Capitol. It is entirely possible that everything is just an elaborate ruse, an excuse to torture a bunch of people from different points in reality. He didn't really think that was the case, but it's always a possibility.

"Me?" he says, then knits his brow, shrugging a little. "Theology and philosophy aren't really my thing. Trained to think as little as possible about anything that can distract you, so. I guess not."

Which is to say he is ambivalent about the matter, like most things.
celebrityskinned: (Basic - Fancy Dress)

[personal profile] celebrityskinned 2015-02-23 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
He doesn't have the ask the question for her to read it in his face. "About a year ago they took us all out to see the Districts we represented. There...aren't a lot of people left over from that time."

She's one of the few, and suddenly the weight of that seems to wrap around her like a heavy robe, cloying on her body. Her lashes flutter for a moment (the peacock-tail falsies make the gesture, unwittingly, more exaggerated).

"I know that background. If I had a nickel for how often an agent told me that pretty sells, smart fails, I wouldn't have had to get a job. And I wouldn't have needed any more agents to tell me how stupid I am." She shrugs too, shaking her head as if it's nothing and as if she doesn't have lifelong insecurities about her wits.
samson: (rough trade in a tight camisole)

[personal profile] samson 2015-02-23 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
Brock's noticed that already. Every few weeks, there's a new crop of people -- but they never seem to be hurting for Tributes. Out with the old, in with the new. Sometimes he wonders if there's just a mass grave somewhere when they decide not to bring them back after they die, or if it's something more morbid than that.

His brow crinkles a little more severely when Venus continues, because that is a little awkward. "That's... kind of a different thing," he says slowly, then squints at her. "Wait -- what is it that you used to do for a living?"
celebrityskinned: (Basic - Examine)

[personal profile] celebrityskinned 2015-02-26 09:57 pm (UTC)(link)
She looks a little sheepish for a moment. "Televised superhero. I used to think it was something glorious, or whatever, and then I had sort of a quarter-life crisis and realized I was just killing people across the globe for fat stacks of cash. I didn't even ask who they were. I just went wherever my manager pointed like a trained falcon or something."

She seems even more abashed when she reminds herself that it's not like Brock's her priest or anything. He doesn't need to carry the weight of her conflicted soul. She sets her hand against her bicep, eying some of the food but not picking it up.

"What about you? I think you might've told me back at that party, but I should probably reiterate that I was beyond drunk. The fact that I remembered my own name in the morning was kind of a miracle."
samson: (eyeshift)

[personal profile] samson 2015-03-09 02:11 am (UTC)(link)
Quarter-life crisis, she says. Venus, please. Brock usually is not the type of person to feel old by offhand comments, he is secure in his age, but that... made him feel old.

"Well... they probably deserved it," he says, trying to be reassuring, and he reaches down to tuck a loose piece of her hair back into place. It's a gesture with no great weight to it, just something he's done casually, but it speaks to a certain level of intimacy.

"Uh, right," he answers, eyes shifting to the side. There's no real point to being secretive about it anymore, not after his first Arena has already come and gone. Any advantage he may have had is used up; all somebody had to do was queue up some footage of him sneaking around and flipping off walls and shit to get a pretty decent idea. "I said government. I'm in black ops. Dealing with supervillains, as it happens."
celebrityskinned: (Basic - Chatting)

[personal profile] celebrityskinned 2015-03-10 01:00 am (UTC)(link)
It's a kind thing to say, at least. It's one she wants to believe and because it's something she wants, her brain is good at concocting rationales for denying herself it, calling it wishful thinking or self-delusion. It means more coming from another person's mouth.

She barely watches his hand, watching his face still because she's perfectly used to having people touch her hair or her hand or her shoulder while talking to her. Part of being one of those open, charismatic people is that it lures people into thinking they're closer to you than they are - or possibly becoming closer to them quicker. The difference is hard to tell.

"Supervillains are actually the worst."

Venus laughs, that musical laugh she has that may be honest but is amplified for cameras, and she's grateful that there's another person here who can maybe share in the sentiment of experienced exasperation about megalomaniacs in tights and capes. She suddenly feels smaller next to him in one of those psychological ways that transcends the mind and soaks into the physical world, as if she's shrinking Alice in Wonderland-style before him while he rises up, mountainous, made nobler in her mind somehow.

"What brought you to do that? What I always heard about government jobs was that they were low-pay and full of bureaucrats."
samson: (sexy goddamn bastard)

[personal profile] samson 2015-03-12 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Brock Samson and nobility are not usually words that go hand-in-hand, but he'd be touched if he knew it raised her opinion of him. Maybe a little embarrassed too, but Brock is often embarrassed by things he can't just brush off with a shrug and a whatever.

This is what makes him such a good governmental worker; he doesn't let things get to him, the wall up between him and the world so ingrained that his interpersonal relationships are either awkward or deliberately casual. It's something he struggles with here, where cameras and interviews are part of every day life, and he's a little envious that Venus already has a leg-up on that sort of thing. It's sort of surprising she hasn't won yet.

"Don't get me started," he grouses good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. At least there aren't any supervillains here, though. Not that he's seen, anyway. Then again, seeing a supevillain in civvies is such a rare thing that he could be wrong about it. For all he knows, Joel or somebody completely normal is a spandex-wearing megalomaniac in his free time. Worlds without costumes as a crutch are a little difficult to deal with.

"It's a long story. I joined the Marines when I was eighteen, and my agency recruited me from there. I guess they saw potential in me, or... I dunno." He rubs at the back of his neck, that discomfort with vulnerability peering through the cracks. "But, yeah. My CO was all about changing the world, really coming down hard on supervillains... it's important work. We got superheroes where I'm from too, but that shit is mostly just play-fighting. If you really want to make a difference, you either gotta go full-on vigilante or deal with the bureaucrats and work your way up 'til you can actually do something."
celebrityskinned: (Happy - Flirt)

[personal profile] celebrityskinned 2015-03-20 10:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"My world's flip-flopped from that. There, our government is basically useless for disaster response, and half the supers are full-on vigilantes. Not me, though. I wanted to get paid for my work." Being homeless will do that to someone, teach them the value of a dollar.

She raises her eyebrows when he mentions making a difference; it's an idea that never occurred to her on anything but a superficial, abstract level until she was in her twenties - until she came here. She wanted to 'make a difference' in the same way Miss America wants 'world peace', as an accessory to her personality and a slogan for her better nature and not as an actual goal. And then she came here, and worldliness was beaten into her, or carved out of the existing marble.

"Did you ever get to actually do something?" She's genuinely curious if he used that potential (she bets the Marines took one look at his physique and threw their cutest, spriteliest, most dogged recruiter at him). "Or was that just your CO who wanted to?"