thecapitol | The Crowning of Tony Stark

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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.

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Considering the trouble they'd had getting him to stay still when they painted the arm, what eyeliner they had managed to get on him was victory enough. Bucky's prep team is certainly one of the longest suffering in the Capitol, but they're lucky now that he doesn't feel complete animosity towards Edna.

"I don't know if it was a thing before 1945." he replies dryly, noting the list of equipment necessary and wondering if it was too late to back out. Technically speaking, he hadn't actually agreed to play, only asked for an explanation of what the game was. One thing he has found himself resigned to since his induction however is Sergius' seemingly boundless enthusiasm. "What's the objective?"

Maxwell crouched, bringing himself down to eye-level with Bayard. Everything was wild enough at the moment, he thought, the boy didn't need to crane to look at him on top of it all.

"We're all back," he promised, though his smile did gently dim. "...Everyone that you met in the arena anyway."

Ellis had a soft spot for the boy as he approached the edge, and noted the accent and offered his hand out for Bayard to shake, "It's just the state o' music for our newest champion apparently. I like it, used to be my jam back in my autoshop, but it ain't for everyone, kiddo."

The amount of sugar cubes Bayard had worried El in a rather familiar way: eating too much of the stuff will give the poor boy one hell of a cranky stomach later. But the eagerness to learn and the rather friendly demeanor, the Savannah man couldn't help a grin,

"You're a brave soul to try all this at the same time, you're coping real well. Where are ya from, li'l sir? You remind me of my grandparents out in the farmlands." Yes, Ellis may have reinforced the stereotype of the redneck then but it was better to have some common ground.

"Better than these light-up doohickeys tha' don't do anything," El sighed a little petulant, that had been a complete let down on his Stylist's part. Maybe she knew that Ellis would try something funny if they allowed him to have anything functional.

The mechanic beamed at the question, "Yep! Savannah, born an' raised, sir! Used to have an autoshop there, right up until th' outbreak happened." He paused for a moment then apologized, "Sorry, y'all don't need to hear tha' sorta shit on a party like this."

"Doubtless." She half-smiles, breaking out of her reverie to pass back the cigarette, which has been burning down slowly towards her fingers. "Not to mention my leg is still stiff from bruising and my shield-arm aching and weak. In a song, it might be a worthy battle, but I fear there is enough left of the girl I once was that I sometimes forget that life is no song." The war should have taught her that, but it hadn't - perhaps because half her recollection of it was now told to others in verse, sung at the high tables of half of Gondor. When you had lived life as a song, and won the day, it became even harder to hold onto grim reality.

Well, she was going to have to learn to do it anyway. Once, in Edoras, she had found the strength to carry on without the hope of an ending or a victory. She knew it was in her. She just had to find it again now, without her uncle to bind her there.

"I shall do my best," Éowyn replied gravely, looking down at herself with a grimace. "Why anyone would wear such things for choice is a mystery to me. I have seen women go to great lengths for beauty, but never to such great heights ere now."

"More or less." It wasn't rude, and given how much of a minority she seemed to be in here, she didn't even think it was a particularly strange question. "In Rohan and Gondor, at least. Elsewhere, other tongues are spoken. But I take it you mean the manner of my speech, not the language of it?" She smiled back at him, following him to the bar. "To me, it is you and those like you who sound queer. You speak as if a full sentence were too long, as if you wish to drop as much of it as possible while still holding the meaning. I do not doubt its usefulness, but it is strange to me, who was raised to court and courtesy."

The illustrious Captain Jack Sparrow could easily deal with an extravagant and noisy party. In fact, if there were only two elements of the Capitol that Jack could appreciate more than anything, it was the abundance of top-shelf booze that he'd been given nearly unlimited access to and the massive celebrations they seemed to like to throw. It's mostly the crassly loud and foreign music, coupled with the constant flash of brilliantly bright lights all over, that grates on him and gives him a headache.

And it's the second time that Jack has endured a Crowning. He'd resigned himself to Jolie's fussing with less complaint than the first time around, largely because she'd allowed him to keep his dreadlocks instead of pinning him down and just flat-out cutting his hair off.

Unfortunately the stylist hadn't left them completely untouched -- instead, his hair is pulled away from his face and into what looks like an up-do, accented with a few gold and red fiber-optic dreads. The usual trinkets and beads that decorate his hair are gone too, replaced with a variety of metallic and robotic-y ornaments that are weaved into it. He's pretty sharply dressed overall, as well, and the leather gloves on his hands are lined with ruby red LEDs that light up.

If any of it makes him uncomfortable, which it probably does, Jack has made sure it doesn't show. Instead, the pirate mingles in the crowd and attempts to enjoy himself, despite the pangs of paranoia that sometimes hit him -- it's hard not to remember that at the last Crowning, once the party had ended, all the Tributes had been immediately shuffled off into the Arena and to their eventual death.

Either way it doesn't matter how early or late in the evening it is, Jack saunters about the festivities with his customarily unsteady gait and, of course, an alcoholic drink to his lips. At some point the pirate might accidentally sway too far into someone's personal space, knock his drink against them, and spill it. The rest of the time Jack can be found at the bar, either finishing the tail-end of a fanciful and just barely believable story to a starry-eyed fan, or avoiding the screens that play the Arena match over -- and over -- by staring curiously at a nearby drinking game being played.

Party or not, unpleasant things always follow. Or rather, there's always something terrible hiding under the apparent joy and festivities. That's what he has gathered about this whole world so far, so Ellis's comment doesn't bother him in that sense. He mentions an outbreak though and that gets his attention.

"Outbreak? You mean with dead folk? We call 'em lurkers."

Someone nudges him from behind and he steps aside to let them through. They should probably go somewhere a little less busy to talk. Nick isn't one to draw attention if he's going to end up knocking more things over throughout the evening.

With meeting all different sorts of people here, he gets annoyed at himself for slipping and forgetting that not everyone knows the same thing. The music and the drinking games are the most familiar things to him here. The robots, not even close. "They're a famous band where I'm from."

He chugs the rest of the whiskey like it's water then. "Well, more like were famous."

Different worlds is one thing, but there's also different timelines too. Nick had met a French guy from 19th century so the possibility of this guy being from the past is there too.

"You sound like you're from the Prohibition," he says as he sets his empty glass on a tray held out by an Avox. It's easy to tell from the look on his face that he's not happy about the fate of the mute ones.

The wiggling tablecloth is lifted and the contents underneath are inspected. Suddenly, Tabris is glad that her outfit was on the conservative side, for capitol stylists, for she wouldn't want to be looking down at this boy with her breasts a jiggle away from popping out, like some people. Her smile is affectionate, though she tries to put a lecturing tone into her words.

"Boy, if all you eat are sugar cubes, you're gonna rot your teeth out. Straight out, like a little old man. And you'll be bouncing off the walls, too! There's enough real food here to feed a small country, you should eat some of that before you eat all that sugar." Despite her words, she kneels down to sit next to him (having a little trouble trying to figure out how to sit in a dress this short) and pops one of the sugar cubes in her mouth.

Okay, that was impressive, Firo, just drop back the glass. "Relax, it was a figure of speech, don't tell me you're that kinda guy who freaks out over a gray hair or something."

If only Phillip knew.

"We listen to rock and roll, jazz, maybe a little bit of pop music, kinda shallow but all in good fun, you know. Your boss was a real traditionalist, huh? And you didn't have any favorites?"

"Perhaps not." He watches the cigarette in his fingers for a second, then studies the look of one of the sets of red and gold armor standing nearby. "But there'll be glory to be had, daughter of Éomund. You only need to be patient."

He turns and gives her a slight bow from where he's inspecting the floating wheels over the car. "I haven't any idea," he replies, hurriedly straightening and giving her a small smile.

"It may be some sort of electricity? Like how they power the lights in the city, and all that sort of thing; but I've no idea how it works." He has been here long enough to know the names of things, at least, but not yet had a chance to read up on anything. "Whatever it is, it is certainly fascinating."

"You'd be dead, I'd miss you terribly, and District 6 would be without their mentor," yeah no, Phil's just going to be sarcastic for a moment, except for the missing Linden part, "And Stephen would definitely be overwhelmed and can you imagine who'd try to take your place?"

Gray mentally tallies that as Linden's first drink, and he will do his damnedest to keep the man 'buzzed' not completely wasted. Though after hearing that description of the man's injury and scars...

"Jesus, they're, uh, that driven by the latest fads, huh?" He did his best to avoid calling the people who own him "shallow" but it was implied.

Linden snorts irreverently at the clear sarcasm, taking it at face-value and permitting himself to be entertained... even though everything he's saying is true and sarcasm might not be the appropriate tone to affect in that case. Including that part about Stephen being overwhelmed.

"Spare me. Stephen's already overwhelmed, and he picked a fine time to do it."

That was sarcasm. He downs his shot.

"Stephen's always held 6 together, ever since we started working together. If I used him as a crutch, he was a very willing crutch. I do not appreciate his timing," he adds bitterly, turning the empty glass in his hand as if already contemplating his next drink.

"Fads are everything here. Unfortunately, I was still stuck with my scar long after it went out of fashion," he chuckles darkly.

"I have spent too long being patient. Standing in the shadows, watching things fall apart for want of the power to hold them together. And I have tasted glory, and it is not worth the waiting." She's talking to herself more than to him, though, and looking back up at the lights reflected in the sky. It's only after a moment more that she looks back at him, with a sad little smile. "People, though, are worthy of it. And at least I am practiced in patience, after all that."

Zed has spent his entire life ignoring sound advice designed to keep his glitter-loving self out of trouble. If someone mentioned not to bother the District 6 Mentor, Zed probably wasn't listening...or decided he didn't care. Either was a possibility with him.

"What, you don't like the lights?" He moves his hands, but that is apparently only to stick them in his own face to make sure they're still working. They are, and he is pleased.

Well, it's certainly more cheerful than the last Crowning.

Swann is in the gardens, which she thinks could be less loud, but at least it's pretty. The fiber optics wrapped around her hair bounce and sway a bit with every step, and it makes her sort of a beacon, trackable as she takes in the sights. She has a glass of sparkling cider, and she has to take care not to catch her lip with her intricate hand jewelry.

She hovers around the display of Iron Man suits, examining each as if she were in a museum, then moves on to the family tree. It makes her frown, because she's pretty sure that Dave is not Tony Stark's son, because wouldn't that make Tony the King of Texas?

These off-worlders are so confusing.

Really, she just seems tired, no matter when she's encountered. The only thing at this party that brings her any genuine joy is a small model of Dum-E, just realistic enough to swing around a little bit and cock its 'head' at her. Once she encounters a bench in the garden, she takes a seat and sets the model next to her, sighing as she waits out the party.

He stopped at the bar and snatched a bottle of red wine off the counter, watching her as she spoke.

He grinned. "Where I'm from, we've got this thing called a 'New York minute,' which is shorter than a normal minute, 'cause everybody's always in a rush." He filled his glass nearly up to the brim and offered her the bottle. "So, what I'm sayin' is, you're probably right."

"What's life like in court, eh?"

His look of confusion turned to a brief smile at the guess. "You got it. They just threw it out last year."

There's a bit of dismay in his voice, though the smile remains. The Camorra lost a great money-making opportunity there, but they have other rackets. In all honesty, Firo was happy to be able to drink openly without worrying about getting hauled into court just because the cops could.

He doesn't comment, but he noted the look on the man's face at the Avox. It's something of a reassurance; Firo feels people who adapt too easily to Capitol life probably aren't people he can get along with.

"When're you from, then? I'm guessin' sometime after that?"

Linden stiffens noticeably at the lad's movement, but they're withdrawing from his face, which is enough to lower his hackles at least a little bit.

"I don't," he says tersely. "They hurt my eyes. This whole Crowning hurts my eyes."

And he also has a whanging headache.

“It is. I had to look around a long time for it.” No, he really didn’t, but he’s still going to act like it was a grave inconvenience. Thankfully, Phil isn’t much of a threat to his spot, so Julian eases up, takes a seat, and sets the plate of food to the side. It’s an awfully big plate, food stacked high, but when there’s food being offered Julian’s going to take advantage of it.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” The question sort of loses its effect when Julian’s smiling, though. Julian somehow had managed to survive longer than expected in the Arena thanks to a lot of help, but he hadn’t seen Phil during all that time. It’s good to see him again, too, even if Julian doesn’t say it.

“You can have some food if you want. It’s the only good thing about this party,” he says, gesturing to the food he set aside. If the small smile wasn’t enough, the fact that he's actually willing to share his food makes it pretty evident that he’s happy to see Phil. After a pause he adds, “Just know that you’re going to have to go fill the plate back up if you eat too much of it.”

All quips aside, and as soon as Gray offered a water bottle instead of another glass, it'll help and Linden knows it, he got back to his more level tones, especially concerning Stephen.

"What happened to Stephen as of late? Before the Arena, he was fine, he was on the ball. Or at least that's what I saw then. And I wasn't kidding, I'd miss you, don't die."

To see Reagan go from generally put-together to...well, the tabloids will show exactly why Phil has been avoiding going out of the Tower again. For the record, he thought they were going to a normal club, okay?

"Not exactly." Gray hair? Firo was still waiting for hair to show up on his face. Which was never going to happen now.

As Phil listed terms, Firo just nodded blankly along, finally smiling a bit when his boss was brought up. "He is. In everything, pretty much." Except, happily, the "Italians only" rule of the mob. There were Martillos from all over the world.

"No, I don't. Never really had the chance to listen to stuff." He shrugged, no regret at all. If he was missing out, he didn't know. "So that... 'rock' and 'pop' stuff, that's what you like? What's it like?"

For someone as musically illiterate as Firo, trying to think up a new style of music was as difficult as imagining a new color.

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The Crowning of Tony Stark

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COME TO ME HAT-BROTHER

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opeeeeen

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open!

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