thecapitol | The Crowning of Tony Stark

Entry tags:

The Crowning of Tony Stark

Who| Everyone.
What| The Crowning of Tony Stark.
Where| The New Capitol Stark Expo!
When| Friday, late afternoon into the evening.
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, so no funny business.
WARNINGS| Alcoholism / References to Alcoholism.

The Capitol might be known for its extravagance, but Stark Expos have never skimped on a show. Combining the two together could only be a recipe for the most wild indulgences. The center theater takes styling after a arc reactor, with glass ceiling and glowing blue lights set right within the metal and putting a glow to the sky. Lightshows go off on the main stage, the stark logo overhead and a massive screen displaying the Panem flag and Tony Stark's image just behind the dancing Ironettes. A circle plattform going off from the stage, clearly reserved for the guest of honor, features a design Panem's bird in red, gold, and glowing blue.

A globe is featured in the outside gardens, showing off a map of Panem, and the park is filled with artistic statues of destroyed Iron Man amror. But there's no quiet here, not with the fireworks going off all night and the consistent playing of music that is not but sounds an awful lot like that of Daft Punk, Eifel 65, ACDC, and one other song that breaks them up.

Various shows can be found about the gardens, including display models of some of Tony Stark's old weapons and Iron Man suits. Further along guests may find the Avengers display, featuring large portraits of the Avengers and their allies, large red x's going over greyed out portraits of those deemed dead, including Phill Coulson, Natasha Romanoff, and Thor. Along with these portraits can be found the Stark family tree, featuring the Victor Tony Stark and all his relations including apparent son Dave Strider, and Arya Stark, Ancestor of the Stark family, not to mention the great Howard Stark who's accomplishments (and tragic lack of care for Anthony) are lovingly illustrated. One such accomplishment being a "flying car" just a short walk over.

There's plenty for guests to do besides just ogle the brilliant sights however! A bar has been set up with a whole variety of drinking games available from Sink The Battleship and Drink Roulette to an extravagent variation of the classic game, Beer Pong, and an ongoing run of the Games with rules of drinking for each emotional scene, funny incident, or death. Those under the age of eighteen will be served fizzing juice or soda instead and can participate in junior versions of the very same games. All the cups are made from the finest glass with Tony Stark images over them. Avoxes are on scene to clean every spill and break of glass that might come.

A cave has been crafted of artificial and real material, designed to look like the Cave in which Tony Stark became a real hero, but with a twist; it's been made into a fun-for-all maze! Guests can attempt to navigate their way to the labyrinth and reach the core, avoiding those nasty pop-out rebels along the way. Those who make it to the fire-lit center may receive a limited edition "Tony Stark Heart" miniature arc reactor in a beautiful glass case.

An indoor sky diving station is also available, large enough that many guests may enter at once and still find it spacious. Here, guests can don Iron Man themed sky-diving suits and experience the sensation of flight, just as Tony Stark once did. Of course, the party doesn't start until the Victor comes in; he'll be appearing by Capitol-controlled suit to make his entrance at center stage. It is here that his Throne shall be raised up through the stage and his crown gifted to him. Following the official Crowning Ceremony will also come a speech from the Capitol's very own, Cyrus Reagan.

Tributes are dressed in formal wear with robotic accents. Such as a full mask or metal armor. Capitolites can be seen with Tony stark styled hair, bearing tattoos in his image, and even with surgically implanted lights, in honor of the new Victor. Available for purchase are handcrafted Tony Stark dolls, Iron Man action figures, and models of beloved robot-pet "Dum-E" in both small and life-sized. The Iron Man light gloves come completely free for all guests.

The Crowning ends off with a bang, as in the center of the sky, a massive "wormhole" opens up showing a vast darkness full of sinister creatures just on the other side, sure to inspire some screams from fans. Guests near to the Iron Man suit displays are asked by peacekeepers to step back-- far back-- but may be the first to witness the incredible scene of all those suits launching into the sky and exploding around and "in" the wormhole. The wormhole shifts to a message stating the show to have been brought to you by the Hunger Game's skilled Sky-Display Designers before going into advertising for the rest of the night as the party dies down.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"The one and only." Gary preens, striking a magnificent pose. The golden flecks of his suit seem to dance across the armor pieces as the fireworks light them up from overhead. He is clearly quite happy with what his Stylist has put him in, as outrageous as it is, and is of the opinion that showing it off will make an excellent first impression on new people.

But then the mask comes off and he realizes that this isn't someone new. Again Gary has to stop and squint a little to recognize who this is, now that he isn't hiding behind his other, more organic mask of facial hair, but once he does, Gary realizes his mistake and is very happy about it.

"Nick! I knew it was you!" Of course he did. Gary grins and offers an enthusiastic fist to bump. "What've you been up to man? More afternoon serenades on the rooftop?"

It's a notable case where Linden wished it was possible to take a non-native out of the Capitol to other parts of Panem. Not necessarily south to 6, but at the very least somewhere life and labor are more difficult, and scars are marks of survivors and not trite fashion statements... even those tiny ones, because surviving is not always so cut-and-dried.

She isn't relieved to quite the extent that Linden would have hoped for. His attempts to downplay this and make it seem a little less bleak and humiliating don't seem to be terribly effective, but at least she can be sure that he is not the Capitol's newest Avox. Even if he's bone-white and exhausted, he's here and relatively whole, and maybe that really is something for both of them to be thankful for.

"My stylists do what they can with what they have," he says with shrug in half-hearted defense. "Black is my color, anyway..."

He doesn't say so, but a common joke in the Capitol is that this is to save time and funeral expenses in the not-unlikely event of his sudden death. He takes it in stride, but it's more than a little depressing to know that's what people think when one is getting dressed.

"At least eyes aren't immediately drawn to me, tonight. You might still be horrified, but I'm actually very grateful. I didn't want to be here at all."

They might be on opposite ends of a very extreme spectrum, but the Hunger Games are absolutely a reality TV show, albeit with young, unknown faces and oftentimes unwilling participation. Maybe seeing what the genre's become has irreversibly soured some of the new Tributes on what they once found entertaining.

"Glimpses into the lives of the rich and famous...?" Linden asks. "I can see how those things are linked, but none of us are celebrities before the Games... only after."

And it is so overrated.

Despite his years of substance abuse and the toll they've taken on his mind and body, Linden's pretty sharp, good at understanding motivation and character and piecing together aspects to form a complete picture. His childhood desire to find lost things still lives on that way, looking for the truth even if it means digging through a lot of broken glass, but more invaluable by far than a knack is the experience and skill that's come with over a decade mentoring.

"Thanks aren't necessary," he's quick to assure the man. "As I said, it's part of my job, and if a District suite can't get along it hurts all of us. It's in everyone's best interest to have a harmonious dynamic... even if it's just the appearance of one. And of course I'll keep an eye on Julian, but... can I ask why? Do you have reason to be concerned in particular about him?"

Starting to rise out of his crouch, Maxwell paused, surprise lifting his eyebrows -- then a laugh softening his face.

"I think we can find something you'll enjoy a bit more," he chuckled, straightening up. "After all, there are lost of young men and women like yourself here. I'm sure the Capitol would have thought to provide."

He waved a hand for the boy to walk with him and turned for the bar.

"Have you had Soda Pop yet? That's one not to be missed."

The sweetness of it Maxwell wasn't entirely sold on, but the fizzing bubbles made him smile for the whimsey of it.

He hadn't expected a reply, but Maxwell seemed to take it in stride, turning fully to face the woman. His head dipped, old-world gallantry, in a polite - if silent - greeting.

"Then they are sterner men and women than I," he replied, one corner of his mouth curling upward. "Because all I think is how exhausting it must be."

"I haven't the slightest how they do it. I suspect intravenous caffeine supplements are involved."

Drugs, in short. She thinks they're all on drugs.

She gives Maxwell a smile, offering her hand to shake. "I apologize, I should introduce yourself. I'm Peggy Carter."

Emily's dressed fairly simply in a flowing red gown, and spends much of the evening leaning back against a wall and watching the proceedings. She's never been good at big parties - especially after her own victory in the Games, when she'd had to be the centre of attention at them - and for the most part she's content to watch the proceedings, holding a beer in one hand, which she sips periodically, and wearing a light glove on the other, watching the beam move around as she ripples her palm. When she spots her Tributes she gives them an encouraging smile, gesturing at them to mingle and make themselves known to sponsors, but she only goes into the fray herself when absolutely necessary.

"I could just take the coat off," he points out. Much as he's not fond of all the outfits his stylists put him in, he's grown grudgingly fond of them. Unless their work is actively insulting he doesn't want to ruin it. He reaches up to undo the few clasps across the front and shrugs the whole coat off, tucking it under his arm. It's now even more obvious that the leggings he's wearing go all the way up to just below his pectoral muscles.

"It's likely the flared collar that was having the greatest effect. Drones have similar armor around their shoulders."

Edited 2015-04-03 00:00 (UTC)

"Wouldn't rule it out," he says, half-genuine, then considers the deck a second before pushing it over toward Firo. "You'd better do the shuffling. Slowly, if you don't mind; the longer we're playing here, the longer we're not out there." Roland raises his eyebrows, a little humor in his face. He may barely know Firo, but he's pretty sure the boy won't disagree.

"Ah, that's a shame. All this shining!" He spreads his arms wide. "Kind of sad to not be able to take it all in..." And then there's a sudden scrutinizing look, and a weirdly intense one at that. "You haven't been kept in the darkness too, have you?"

His mouth thinned into a line. "Sounds like you've already been dealin' with some stuff close to what's goin' on here."

Sometimes, holding his tongue was the hardest thing for Firo to do here. As had happened in his discussion with his Escort recently, he often didn't. Without any of the senior capos in his Family here to command his respect, Firo found his ability to control himself somewhat lessened.

He could imagine it was the same for her, even if she had practice. Perhaps even because of it--he couldn't imagine having to keep it up for that long.

"Why's nobody else doin' anything about that bastard?" To clarify, he added, "Grimy Wormface, or whatever his name is."

That's the second time he's heard one of these trolls hiss tonight, though what Psiionic says after does even more to remind Roland of Karkat than the hiss did. Although, in this case it probably isn't an overreaction. Roland rolls off the troll but doesn't stand. Doesn't seem like any Capitolite cares whether they're acting with decorum or not, for the moment - they're all focused on the skies. But not, of course, with anything like fear.

He pulls his knees up, sets his arms across them, and settles beside the sprawled figure to take a better look at the crowd. Their outftits may be ridiculous all across the board, but he could probably tell tributes from natives right now simply from the looks on people's faces. The Capitolites clap, smile. Some of them even look bored. "Didn't occur to a one of them to be afraid."

He doesn't try to hide the disgust from his voice there, just looks back down at Psiionic and adds mildly, "How long do you think you'll be done for? It's only the party's probably going to be ending."

"Of course it can get grating and even a little obnoxious but it's always in harmless fun," Phil laughed at Firo's earnest if disturbing penchant for violence. He was a mobster after all."Right up until it's just an assault to the eyes and then you cry at every moment you hear it."

Phil got the point across quite well, as he'd have an experience with one Jason Compson, and the likes of the Capitol strip club scene. "Just make sure to let the producer of the music know your opinion in a fairly worded communication that won't cause any trouble."

It was almost hilarious to see how Capitolites simply passed by in their shallow world and simply let thinly-veiled remarks roll off the Tributes' mouths.

She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, leaning into him while trying to be cautious of the metal on her arms. She doubts anyone will particularly care if she bends or breaks it, but she doesn't want to jab him with it.

"It's excessive, really. Even for the number of people here, there's no way everything is getting eaten." And something tells her that these people don't believe in saving "leftovers."

"Yes. And, frankly, I expect the situation is very different in these districts of theirs," Cullen points out quietly, glancing around as though worried someone might overhear. He's only heard hints and rumors, but enough to have a strong suspicion.

The Games and the culture of celebrity worship had become more than just soured for Phillip; it had turned a slowly toxic cloud over what had once been an innocent if voyeuristic hobby. Something to pass the time while waiting for the next shift and foray into Freddy Fazbear's. Now? Now he just wanted to sleep and be able to wake up without death watching over him like a guardian who never left his side along with the soulless electronic eyes that stared from the edge of his eyesight. Twelve pairs, never relenting.

"And everyone with a pulse after the Arena is invited to the parties. Somehow, I'd rather go back to obscurity, maybe open a bar, a restaurant, or something." The irony of a recovering alcoholic running a bar or anything related to booze made the Phone Guy chuckle self-deprecatingly.

For this, Phil decided to go in a more subtle route, "Because out of all the people I care about, Julian's the one with the least amount of combat experience." The hints were there: Dandy has threatened those I care about, but Julian is the nearest target. "I will do my best to show as much support on camera, smile and talk sweet about my fellow Tributes."

Edited 2015-04-03 02:39 (UTC)

"He's not very bright, is he?" She's teasing, you can tell by the sneaky little grin hovering around the corners of her mouth, "Or maybe he's just a slow runner. I mean, you know what they say, right? You don't have to be fast, you just have to be faster than the next guy."

“Not fun for me.” Julian’s too busy inspecting what Phil’s adding to the selection to really sound all that bothered, though.

“You cheered me on?” There’s surprise on his face as he looks up from the food. He doesn’t quite understand why Phil would bother to cheer for him, but after a moment he settles on what he thinks must be the only explanation. “You really have that much District 6 pride?”

Phil’s question makes Julian freeze up, and he wonders exactly how much Phil has seen. There’s some things in particular Julian hopes he didn’t get to watch, like the moment he stuck an axe in someone before being able to get out of the caves. Julian’s going to avoid talking about that, as much as he can help it. He’d rather avoid talking about the Arenas at all, but he still answers the question, speaking quickly and looking uncomfortable as he says, “All of the weeks were bad. It was cold. But yes, getting killed by a tiger definitely didn’t make for the best week. Whatever week you die is going to be the worst. I’m sure it was the same for you too.”

"Obliged, Miss Tabris." He takes the plate.

Bayard enjoys Tabris' babbling, the way her mouth seems to fit words together much faster than her brain is turning. He isn't used to letting the silence fill like that, is used to the quiet austerity of his home where even sound seems too precious a resource to waste.

"Why are the sandwiches so strange-looking?" He's never seen bread baked into a sort of crude face like this. He follows Tabris' lead though, assuming that even lumpy bread is probably tasty, and loads up his plate with the little sandwiches. "What about that?"

It's a rocketship made of meatloaf.

"Right, a Mr. Stark, I'm told. Can't say I've met him yet, but I should probably congratulate him when I get the chance."

Bayard watches Linden's hand, becoming equally animated, seemingly completely unperturbed by this sickly-looking man who's crawled down here with him. As far as Bayard's concerned, it isn't his business to judge how a man behaves at a party given that Bayard doesn't know how to behave himself, and it would be completely hypocritical to assume that Linden's doing it incorrectly just because he's older.

"A plantation, sir, but we ain't growing much of late. We got mules and pigs, though. I just built up a pen for them the other day with my bare hands." And a lot of help, but Bayard thinks he's done enough of the work to merit taking some of the credit. "It was a right sturdy pen."

"Oh yeah, it's fine!" Gary insists with a dismissive wave of his hand. Of course he has no idea, he's only admired it from a distance--but it looks like one hell of a ride, and with the added impetus of teasing a fairly attractive lady about it, the chance to engage becomes impossible to ignore. He will think about how poor of a decision this is later, likely after he's jumped, because regrets are for losers.

For now, jokes! Jokes are good. "I'm sure they have a wing of Avoxes with shovels in the back just for that purpose," Gary smirks. "Maybe they'll bring you back flat, though. Like a pancake. You'll set a new trend!"

"I know. I'm going to have a headache when I wake tomorrow, I know it. Or ringing in my ears from all this."

He rests his arm over the back of the bench, not forcing but inviting her to rest against him. One knee touches hers and he smiles.

"It's deeper than it looks, that's why. Or maybe the doctor just didn't know what he was doing. Wouldn't discount that possibility."

"...Yeah, sounds like tons a' fun." Firo looked around at the people surrounding them. No one looked offended--interesting. "You know me. Not causin' trouble's definitely my thing."

Firo's grin turned into something more thoughtful a moment later, though. A comment Phil had made during their sparring match sprang to mind. "I'm startin' to see how you didn't get into fights back where you're from. You're like..." He scratched his head and scrunched up his face as he searched for the word. "Diplomatic or somethin'. Like, a smartass, but not loud about it."

Which definitely tended to get a guy beaten up much less often than being a loud smartass.

It's almost reflexive, the way he stretches out and she automatically curls against him, tucked neatly in the space under his arm, her head on his shoulder. The little LED lights stemming from her hair brush against him before settling and casting a dim halo around her head.

"We can go to a different doctor, if you want. Get a second opinion."

She knows the way he reacts to doctor talk, and so she quickly breezes past it, lets the idea just hang there in case he wants to mull over it. Swann certainly can't see the harm in having another doctor look at the wound, but she never knows how Jason will interpret these things.

"I guess it's nice that there's edible food this time? There's a silver lining." And even she can admit that it's a slim one, but she has to look for a good point or she'll go crazy from all the music and lights. "I just hope this doesn't run as late as the last one. I'm tired."

"It's customary to at least extend well-wishes and some measure of admiration for a victory," Linden says quietly, lowering his voice as someone walks particularly close to the table. He raises his shoulders, tensing, and then the shadow passes.

Linden is doing it incorrectly, but he's got to say, he appreciates the hell out of the fact that Bayard is polite (or inexperienced) enough not to say anything. It's strangely freeing to be able to behave like a child without getting called out for it, because in many ways, Linden still is that kid who got thrown into an Arena and just managed to survive longer than a Career by the skin of his teeth, even if it left him with a hideous and highly visible scar slashing across his throat.

"A plantation?" Linden asks, tilting his head; the word is antique, but going by context is enough to give him most of the meaning. "Yeah, your bare hands say that you've definitely built some things in your life. You must be proud," he adds. "Between us, most of the people at this party consider anything that can break a nail hard work."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 15 of 69

The Crowning of Tony Stark

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Open!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject