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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Maybe the jingling of all his jewelry will mask the ribbiting until it stops, Signless thinks as he takes the little bowl with its fake occupant. This prop is turning out to be far more trouble than it was probably worth to make it, but, well. Stylists are hard to discourage. They probably think it being so conspicuous means it's a success.

"Did he like roe cubes?" he asks, his tone careful. He never had a lusus, just a guardian who was nothing like one. Against his better judgement, he's curious.

His frog doesn't ribbit constantly at least, so the jangle of Signless's jewelry has all the more distraction power behind it. Tiny crabdad looks up, clicking his claws at it, but at least seems to have forgotten about trying to eat the frog.

Karkat for his part glances back up. "He loved them. They were good for calming him down sometimes when he was being too snippy about something."

His eyes soon return focus to the lusus, though, and with it his face sets into a thoughtful frown. "He was a lot bigger than this, though. Taller than either of us. Some of the details..." He squints, looking over the crab more. "Some of it's different, but... It looks a lot like him." His frown deepens.

"I don't know why he's here. Mutantblood lusus, whatever, but you never had him."

"I never had to deal with drones either, but they're here. I think perhaps they wanted the widest array of things to gawk at as possible."

He watches as the crab loses interest now that the frog is quiet, plonks itself down onto its hind legs in the sand with its long tail stretched out behind it, and begins running its claws over its face in some sort of grooming motion. It's almost cute.

"Sometimes I would have liked to have had a normal lusus. He seems sweet."

Now that makes him snort. "Sweet? He was as temperamental as I am and twice and screechy about it. He tried to eat other kids sometimes--not that he had to, not like Vriska's, but he tried anyway. He's only sweet now because they made this one tiny and cute and gave it a tail for some reason."

He holds his hand out now, not going to touch, but to see if the little lusus might want to smell it or go for attention on his own.

Without looking back, he asks, "You got raised by Kanaya's ancestor, right? What was she like?"

"She was... she was as wonderful a guardian as any troll could have wanted. She was kind, and fair, and she protected me even though she had no reason to want to. She gave up her life in the caverns for a mutant cullbait grub and I think that's a perfect summation of her personality. She was always such a deeply caring person."

It's kind of easy to see where he gets it. Even if caring too much weren't a Vantas family trait, he likely would have learned it from his mother.

Karkat's eyes keep on the lusus as Signless speaks. It's started to rub its face against his hand much in the way of a cat, certainly something his own never did. (It was a bit too big for that.) But it's when Karkat goes to sit properly - crouching like this gets uncomfortable after a while - that the crab creature invites itself to clamber into and curl up on his lap.

"What--Why are you--" But it settles just the same, legs and arms folded up and segmented tail curled 'round its bone white body. Karkat turns a helpless look back at his ancestor. What does he do about this?

But the interruption of a friendly lusus doesn't stop the topic at hand. He huffs, pokes one plated shoulder, then gathers his answer.

"I can't imagine what the whole being raised by her thing was like, but she sounds nice, to say the least. Most trolls aren't crazy enough to support a mutant, let alone take a grub - any grub - and raise the thing like a human parent. And where did you live? I doubt a Carpenter Droid just went okay and built a hive for you two."

He laughs, both at Karkat's words and at how he has no idea what to do with the small, affectionate thing in his lap. Since it seems like they're going to be there a while he sits as well, legs comfortably crossed.

"We lived in the desert mainly, though occasionally our travels took us through forests and up the coasts. Sometimes we would stay in one area for a time, living in the wild and occasionally venturing to the nearby villages if we needed to; we could afford that when I was still young and my blood was easier to hide."

Karkat watches him sit, and this is a bit easier. He's not sure what to do about his lap guest, and this way he doesn't have to figure out a solution. Plus he can look his ancestor in the face more easily.

"What was it like?" he asks after a moment. "The whole... mutant thing. Obviously I found out about my blood at some point, but I had a hive to live in and a lusus to look after me, and I obviously didn't have any of your visions, either. No adults on Alternia then, either."

It's so strange to discuss this when being a mutant has been such a small part of his life for so long. In Panem, no one cares. It makes him a curiosity, nothing more. It's something in a footnote in his mostly-inaccurate biography, something to explain his unfortunate mental instability instead of the basis around which he based his entire philosophy. It almost worries him that it takes a good long moment to switch gears into talking about it like it's the monumental thing it used to be.

"It was easier some times than others. I always knew -- my mother never kept it from me, it would have been foolish not to tell me when it could so easily get me culled. It was hardest I think in that interacting with anyone who wasn't her was a risk, no matter what form that interaction took. That and we had no idea what side-effects my mutation might have, so a lot of my younger sweeps were spent on guard for anything that might be difficult to cover up."

He still doesn't know how long he has to live now that he isn't guaranteed an execution, and that worries him when he stops to think about it.

"So far it's just been the face hair and by the time I grew that my eyes were coming in and I wasn't so concerned with keeping hidden."

"You use the human word," he comments in passing. Not to interrupt, but a point of interest, to address whenever he might want to. In other parts he nods, and he's attentive throughout, not even swaying when the mini-lusus nudges his nose up under his hand.

"I worried about that stuff too. I mean, it's bad enough just being cullbait, but I could at least hide my blood. If something else cropped up..." he muses, trailing off. "As loath as I am to say, 'hooray, our planet's dead,' it's probably for the best that I was off Alternia by the time I was, you know? I wouldn't know what to do about your face demons." Yes, he's still calling it that.

"And the rest--I mean, it was nothing like your life, but I know what you mean about the danger. I lived in a city, but I didn't really interact with other trolls much offline. Too much risk."

Oh. He did use the human word, didn't he? He's always called the Dolorosa his mother, but seeing it put in that context just highlights all the other ways human language has crept into his vocabulary. Half the time now he even says years instead of sweeps. Perhaps he should be bothered by that, but if he really does intend to stay in Panem then it makes sense to adapt.

"It's amazing that you survived as well as you did in such a highly-populated area." At this point he doesn't even argue with 'face demons'. Sometimes one must know when to pick their battles where Karkat Vantas is concerned. "I'm impressed, actually."

It feels weird to be praised for surviving. That's the bare minimum in troll society, isn't it? You survive and congrats, you're a troll, same as anyone else. It's the first task of life. Of course, other trolls usually aren't gutterblood mutants, but even then it's strange to hear. He's never really heard it said before.

After a slightly too long pause, he shrugs. "My lusus tried to eat other kids if they got too close. He was loud and screechy and protective, and taller than most of the trolls in my neighborhood. And I played the whole antisocial douchebag routine." He's looking down at the miniature version in his lap now. His brow creases.

"Sgrub probably saved my life, though. There's only so long a mutant can make it, you know? Stuff like blood stops mattering as much once there's only a handful of your species still alive, and it's your leadership keeping them together. And then when we didn't get our reward, there were humans to troll to figure out why, and everything else kept happening until literally nobody gave a shit anymore. Even the Empress was going to keep me around as a slave if I helped do this thing she wanted before I came here, though of course I refused."

It would be just like a Vantas to refuse a direct order from the Empress, and the thought makes Signless smile. For all their differences, he and Karkat are certainly cut from the same block.

"It's funny how things like blood color and the accepted social order fall apart in the face of shared adversity. It puts into perspective what's truly important, and often people find that doesn't include caste. I'm proud of you for how much you accomplished, never mind the things that went wrong."

He feels a sudden upwelling of affection for this young troll, the only other mutant like him Alternia ever saw, who worked so hard and survived so much.

Karkat shrugs. It should mean something coming from him, but he's always had issues about his shortcomings and failure to be a good troll, ones that now kick around the back of his mind.

"Not like she had much choice. It was literally her and us left over, and if she wanted another universe to rule over, it would have to be us to make it. We made the last one--the humans' one--but I fucked that up royally." He motions to the bowl he handed over earlier. "And much as a brutal, efficient ruler as she was, I didn't want to hand the reins over to her after everything. I didn't come this far just to rise from cullbait to worthless peon."

Edited (bluhhhh homophones) 2015-06-02 06:47 (UTC)

'Being a good troll' is something Signless is well familiar with in the context of Karkats who take it perhaps more seriously than they should. He is also very well-acquainted with the sneaky Vantas self-hate spiral. He isn't Karkat's moirail, though, and he can't comment on those things like a moirail might. All he can do is remind Karkat of the good things about himself, so that eventually Karkat might start remembering them too.

"Exactly. Not to mention that her blood and her status didn't entitle her to something that you had worked hard to make possible. You had every right not to defer to her."

Karkat snorts in a sort of weak amusement. He doesn't think he did good enough with the old universe, and the prospective new one is a mystery likely left to some other timeline if his hunches are right. But just the same, it was never the Condesce who made it; she's only ever come to feast on the works of others like a carrion bird.

"I am positive she would argue you on that, and by argue I am sure we both know I mean cull." She's the Empress, and he's a mutant, after all. "But we are going to sink into spiraling circles if we talk about her much longer."

Lowering his gaze, he simultaneously turns the focus to the crab creature curled on his lap. It looks like he's sleeping now, tail curled up along one side of his body, Karkat's thigh taken for a pillow to lay his chin against.

His eyebrows scrunch. "Do you think we could keep him? I doubt there's any precedent about specially created mini-lusii, but after they went to the trouble of making him..."

He doesn't want to think what might happen if they can't. The best case scenario would be some fan acquiring ownership and having no idea how to take care of him. His jaw tightens at how they might get rid of him at the worst.

He considers saying, with all the inflection of someone remarking on the weather, that she did cull him. That won't really get them anywhere, though, and it isn't as though the shackles hanging from the ceiling aren't a good enough reminder.

"I think we might be able to. They let Maximus keep the tiger from the pit at his crowning." That seems like it was so incredibly long ago, that crowning where tributes had to watch holograms of themselves face off against the beast throughout the night. He remembers that back then it horrified him. Now he doesn't think he'd care much.

"I can ask."

Maximus is no one Karkat knows or gives the slightest shit about, but his head still pops up at this answer. Maybe. It could happen. He shifts, not quite sure if he wants to get up to go ask with him or stay here with the lusus, but the answer is decided once his tiny lap companion makes the grumbly chitter of something not wanting to leave a nice spot.

"Please," he asks. "I'll stay here with him."

It's not the same, not remotely, but this creature is the closest he's going to get to having his lusus back, and he can't bear to let him go if there's the chance to keep him. He has to make sure.

"Alright," Signless says, and stands again with another jingle of his jewelry. He isn't sure exactly who he should be asking, but there must be someone here who'll know what policy is on taking home party favors.

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The Crowning Of The Signless

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we can probably call this done, since he's leaving?