The Crowning of Tony Stark

[etcircenses]

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.

Comments

Bayard Sartoris | Open

[yoknapatawpha]

It's all a little too much for Bayard. Dressed in a red metallic three-piece and with his reddish hair dyed gold and laden with shimmer, he could look like he fits in the ridiculous setting - if he weren't hiding under a table, knees tucked to his chest, grasping and ungrasping his hands over each other and peeking out for a few seconds at a time, only to disappear again behind the tablecloth.

Each time he peeks out, he focuses his eyes on one thing, and then disappears behind the tablecloth trying to make sense of it. First, he looks at the Tributes - fellows, he imagines, and even the most gaudily-dressed are only in these fancy clothes he's never seen before, not monsters or machines or anything like that. The giant light in the sky must be lightning that the Capitol has managed, somehow, to contain and hold there, like a wild animal. The giant televisions are just paintings that have been done like those with the eyes that seem to follow you, which he's never seen but which he's heard his father talk about - they must have used whatever technique causes the locked vision on every part of the image. The noise - well, he isn't sure if it's music or the sounds of awful things happening outside, but the people here don't seem terribly bothered by it.

It's not even that he's scared, so much. He's even managed to get himself a gear-shaped bowl full of sugar cubes, and is letting them melt in his mouth one by one, certain he's never tasted anything so fine in his life. He treats himself to one each time he feels as if he's made his peace with another incomprehensible sight.

[shiftingurbulls]

The splendor and grandeur of the Capitol would overwhelm even the most spoiled human being Ellis knew. It was adorable how he could see a small boy peek in and out of his hiding place, as if taking in the sights.

"Hey there, kiddo, are y'all right?" the man spoke in an accent that was probably familiar to Bayard, that Dixie shine in every vowel and drawl. Ellis recognized the boy in the worst way possible: he'd seen Nick shoot him. This was the kid that earned his friend the reputation of a merciless killer. Which isn't quite true: Bayard wasn't going to last long if resources ran out. And Nick was already an asshole to begin with but that's what El loved about him: a dickish older brother with a penchant to walk the walk. He was just a child, a rarity in his world after the Green Flu snuffed out all those little voices. Or worse.

Blue eyes twinkled with a smile as El peeked under the table in his own bombastic outfit fit for the lavish and inappropriately wealthy party.

[yoknapatawpha]

"Yes, sir!"

Bayard greets Ellis not with the fearfulness that his position under the table would suggest, but with an open-hearted excitement at being approached, at new persons. He thinks Ellis looks a little bit like a giant insect in that outfit, but he's still clearly a person, and approaching him with the kindness that Bayard was so relieved to find in the Arena.

"It's just a little bit loud up there, isn't it? And I have myself some sugarcubes down here." Bayard points a hand out of the tablecloth. "I'm trying to make sense of things here one bit at a time, see?"

[shiftingurbulls]

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.

[yoknapatawpha]

"This is music?" Bayard looks genuinely confused at that, because it's so far removed from anything he's heard. The shift between harmonizing work songs and Daft Punk is...extreme.

"Right outside Jefferson, Mississippi, sir. The Sartoris plantation, I don't know if you've heard of it." Bayard's face lights up with the unhidden hope that Ellis has, that someone in this place will understand the elements of Bayard's very core that can't be explained in words. It's the earth he comes from, the history of the place, running deeper inside him than blood.

[revocation]

Cullen realizes very quickly that he got off easy in the costume department this time. It's still not full armor, which he would've been more comfortable in, but he's got vambraces and pauldrons over this "tuxedo" he's been forced to wear.

Also Adella seems to like it and her opinion is most important.

He spots Bayard on one of his peeking adventures, and strides over to his table, leaning down to meet his eyes. "Are you quite alright?" he asks, concerned. He understands being overwhelmed - part of him would love nothing more than to hide under a table as well.

[yoknapatawpha]

"Yes, sir!" Bayard, even if he were in deep distress, wouldn't want to display that to someone, much less someone he respects. It's the sort of thing that only his caretakers would be wont to see, with their understanding that he's growing into upholding the Sartoris name; for everyone else, he has to project the air that he's already there.

He climbs out from under the table.

"I've never been to a party like this. Honestly, sir, I ain't ever been to a party before."

[revocation]

Cullen nods in understanding. "Yes, it's very disconcerting. Not that I often go to parties myself, but not even in Orlais are the music and dancing quite this... vigorous. Not to mention the lights."

All of which are a recipe for a huge headache. Well, except for the dancing, which just looks obscene to Cullen.

[yoknapatawpha]

"I think the lights are right pretty," Bayard says, although he can appreciate that it's a bit of an adjustment. The sounds, though. The sounds.

"I ain't heard music yet. Unless that's what all that banging is? I wouldn't have reckoned something that ugly were music," he says with all the plainspokenness of his age.

"Tell me about Orlas, sir?"

[dreadinquisitor]

There was so much to look at, so many things to see and to try and understand -- Maxwell missed the twitching tablecloth at first. It wasn't until later, when he was standing beside, head-cocked as he studied one of the armored statues and something brushed across his leg that he realized.

Jerking slightly, leaning forward, he twisted around - half expecting a handsy Capitolite - and then looked down, eyes meeting the pair under the table.

"Hello again," he smiled down at the young Satoris. "Fancy meeting you here."

[yoknapatawpha]

"Mr. Maxwell!" Bayard's face splits into a broad grin, his bright blue eyes squinched up with his cheeks. He crawls out from under the table, cringing a bit in all the light and noise but only with his body, not with any expression above the neck.

"Fancy seeing you. I didn't see anyone I recognized so far. I was fearing all you Thed-" he stammers over the word, trying to pronounce it correctly- "Thedosians weren't coming back."

[dreadinquisitor]

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."

[yoknapatawpha]

Bayard's face crinkles slightly with concern, but he imagines that if Maxwell wants to talk about it, he will. There's nothing ruder than digging into the wounds of a soldier who comes home with his platoon lighter, his Father always says. The best you can do for them is to let them alone and give them something to drink if you can provide it.

"Do you need a drink, sir?"

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden does not notice the boy occasionally peeking out from under the tablecloth. He's on the other side of the table, alternating between avoiding curious glances and challenging them with his own unflinching stare. His dark, plain clothes have been mistaken several times for the uniform the Avoxes are wearing, and while he appreciates that it allows him to blend in better, he's also embarrassed with those occasional mixups, the reminder that he is shockingly underdressed and that the implication that he's a "friend to Avoxes" is being carried a little far, very blatantly.

He's just about had enough. He's slipped, and faltered, and bottle in hand, he's crawling under the table, too, taking a moment when backs are turned and using that long-ago Arena talent of folding himself up very small and storing himself someplace unseen.

He doesn't expect someone to have had the idea before him, and accidentally bumps against the boy just as he's returning from one of his peeks at the party outside.

He recoils at the unexpected contact, but manages to remain silent. Blowing both their covers would help neither of them. Instead, he hisses "What are you doing here?" His voice is tense and stiff, in no small part because he resents having to share the space.

[yoknapatawpha]

"Eating sugarcubes." Bayard doesn't look shocked or angry to have someone getting up in his space when he returns to his spot. He's overwhelmed, but he isn't scared here under the table so much as forcibly taking things at his own pace. The Arena was too kind to him for fear to set in.

"Would you like one, sir? I reckon you look a little piqued." He holds out his bowl, half-eaten by now. He figures by the fact that Linden talks means that he isn't an Avox, and he's been talk the good value of charity by his Granny. He's a kind soul, Bayard is, raised right, he likes to believe.

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden started this evening with his hackles raised, but the child's gentle honesty goes a long way toward lowering them. The District 6 Mentor's clear annoyance ebbs away from his pale features as the boy speaks, offering sugar cubes, sharing his space and his sweets, and in seconds, Linden is obliging, reaching forward and curling his spindly fingers around a small handful.

"Thank you."

He crunches them in relative silence for a second, mentally resetting to better deal with the unexpectedly well-mannered and pleasant young Tribute.

"What's your District? We haven't met yet," he says, trying to keep his tone from sounding too overly brusque.

[yoknapatawpha]

"Twelve, sir. Like my age, that's how I remember it. I'm on the highest floor, I reckon, right below the roof. I ain't ever been in a building so high. I didn't know they could build them up like this." Bayard actually seems excited by the idea of such a tall building, like it isn't a fact of modern architecture but a marvel of nature as impressive and awe-inspiring as the great canyons or rising peaks.

He holds a hand out to shake, looking at Linden's spiderish fingers, thinking that wherever Linden's from must not have enough food. Bayard's skinny too, with the sallow look of malnourishment tinting even his babyfat cheeks, but he isn't bony like Linden is. He still looks like he eats at least once a day. He feels it only fair to make sure Linden gets to enjoy these fine sugarcubes if he's so clearly deprived, and thinks his Granny would be quite proud of him as he scoots the bowl to the median between them, so they can both partake. "Bayard Sartoris, sir."

[allyorfoe]

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.

[yoknapatawpha]

"I will, Miss Tabris, after I've enjoyed some more of these." Still, he looks just a bit abashed, because she has a point, and he's sure he would hear no end of it were Louvinia and Granny here. He climbs out from under the table and looks at the buffet with a sort of gleeful overwhelm. "What would you say I should eat? I don't recognize a thing."

Bayard gladly offers her the sugar cubes, not a shade jealous over his sweet prize and finding even greater pleasure in being able to share them with someone.

[allyorfoe]

"Well, Bayard." Tabris whirled around to take in the long tables of food, then paused, staring disquietly at it, as a realization dawned on her.

"...Neither do I. But let's see!"

She grabs a plate, and passes one to Bayard, and inspects the table further, a hand on her waist. "This is how you learn about the world, Bayard. Shoving stuff in your mouth. The very first way you start to learn about the world, in fact!" She inspected some delicate, tiny sandwiches, cut to resemble an Iron Man mask. Then she one in her mouth, and nodded approvingly, putting several on her own plate.

"Let's see...I think this over here is meat. You can't go wrong with meat, probably. Veggies all have these weird and different tastes, but meat is always edible. Usually. Unless it's like, gross, you know?" She's trying to instruct Bayard, but. Teaching someone about food was different than teaching them to stab a douchebag. "But they probably wouldn't serve us gross meat...Anyway. Try whatever you want! If you like it, throw it on your plate."

[yoknapatawpha]

"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.

always late, never never.

[wardenings]

"Well, hello."

He had seen the boy jut out from under the table for only the moment before he disappeared back under the cloth. It had struck the swordsman as odd, but it struck the man's childlike curiosity, causing him to make his way from the adjacent wall all the way over towards the tables, kneeling down. Satin pants crinkle quietly as the bastard son lifts the cloth, smiling at the child hiding underneath the table.

"I have a friend who steals things, too. She's a priestess in training, would you believe? What are you doing all the way over here, little thief? Hiding from all of the festivities?"

sorry my response, too, is late! I'm am so looking forward to this CR :)

[yoknapatawpha]

"I'm not stealing," Bayard says, jutting his head forward with a sort of offended impudence at Alistair, almost scandalized that he (a Sartoris) would be accused by a stranger of stealing, not just for the sake of his own honor but because he's sure his family would be livid with him to think him a thief and scoundrel. "I asked if I could have this bowl of sugarcubes, and the person who had it obliged me."

He peeks around Alistair again, deciding that for the umpteenth time tonight it's just a little bit too much to handle all at once and shrinking back into the shadows of under the table. "I reckon they're free property so you can have some too, if that's what you're after. It wouldn't be right to ask a trade of it."

ooc. it's quite alright! as am i!! ' v '

[wardenings]

"No, no, I'm fine. I've had my fair amount of food at this event anyhow." He chuckles softly, peering down at the boy. He recognizes the look on Bayard's face; it's the same one that coated his own only weeks ago. It's a look of fear and confusion; he, too, is from a land where this kind of technology does not exist in commonplace.

"My name is Alistair," he introduces himself, a gentle smile on his face. "I am a Grey Warden from Ferelden. Might I have your name, little one?"

[yoknapatawpha]

Fear and confusion, yes, but Bayard's face is also tempered with something less despairing; in the midst of overwhelm he's found it in himself to be awed, to be excited and impressed and amazed by the wonders human beings are capable of. He feels a thrush of pride along with disorientation in this strange world, as if he's emboldened by being part of a race that puts machines in the sky.

His eyebrows dart up across his forehead, and he turns that excitement and wonder to Alistair. "Alistair? Are you Miss Tabris' husband?"

He shoves his hand out to shake. "I'm Bayard Sartoris."