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

[rictator]

Rick can't help but smile himself as he followed his gaze, the expression tinged with an undeniable edge of sadness; even now, he was thinking of his son. Cleaned up like the rest of them, grumbling about the product in his hair even as he enjoyed the evening. Talking with Clementine, laughing with Beth. Alive. In Panem. Screaming his name in the arena, pleading for his life as Rick tried so desperately to reach him. His eyes dropped back to his own drink, fingers tightening imperceptibly around the glass.

"Yeah," he admitted with a slow shake of his head. There wasn't much he could say to argue the point; he'd never been much for parties, and the stiff set of his shoulders was evidence enough that nothing had changed since his arrival in the Capitol. If anything, they'd made the entire rigmarole even less enjoyable; instead of worrying about committing some social faux pas that would be forgotten within a few weeks, they had to contend with the ubiquitous surveillance and what might slip out should they let themselves be lulled into a false sense of security.

The silence that stretched between them felt like a physical distance, and Rick couldn't help but notice just how out of practice he'd become with all this. Small talk and social situations were something out of a past life; words had a very different purpose now, and they weren't something that he wasted. Every conversation was a risk, noise in a world where sound could prove deadly. With his family, he never had to actively look for things to talk about, and they functioned comfortably in the gaps in between; the small gestures were far more effective than words could ever be.

He struggled with himself to find his words. It was like trying to force a joint to move after it had rusted - uncomfortable and slow, as though it had forgotten how to work at all. Move it enough and it would loosen up, but those first steps were always the worst. There were things they could talk about. He could talk about what had transpired between them before, after Daryl. About Clementine, before she'd fallen in the arena. About survival and all the things he couldn't stop thinking about.

It was as though he'd forgotten how to be normal. In reality, he probably had.

"Still. It seems like your friends are having a good time."

[burningdaylight]

Friends.

It's not a wrong word to use. They've confided in one another, shared smiles at the best of times and a heavy silence in their darkest hours, laying their lives on the line for each other in that hopes that they might have a chance to see dawn breaking. But as the loss and loneliness that brought them together binds them ever-tighter in a way joy never could have, their presence in his life means that much more and it shows in the way he looks on, protective ,needing. Wanting them to enjoy their hard-earned moment of careless enjoyment no matter how tenuous it seemed. There’s no knowing what tomorrow will bring – and that uncertainty is enough to keep his own drinking in check. Especially when booze goes down easier than the sumptuous food laid out on the tables or any of the Capitolist propaganda shoved into their faces.

"Yeah."

There's a pause, longer and deeper than the ones before, and he's aware that he and Rick could talk and talk if they meant to but never scratch the surface of each others' characters and discover much beyond their shared distaste for Capitolist rituals. Of all Rick's people, it's Rick he knows the least. Surviving means picking the right sides -- and it means knowing one's allies. Their morals, their values. The things that matter more than ever.

"Beth was tellin' me y'all stayed at a prison for a while, before all this." Luke lets it hang in the air a moment, giving it time to sink in before he offers a sympathetic sideways glance. He anticipates a spike in tension – because edging into personal territory with any survivor tends to have that effect – so he volunteers some information, wetting his lips in thought. "My group… we were headed north, lookin' for a place up in Ohio."

[rictator]

The prison had been some time ago, but if Beth was his source, that would make sense. It was the last place they'd been together, the last place they could call 'home'. She'd been absent for Eugene and all of Abraham's talk of Washington and the supposed cure, spared from the ordeal that was Terminus. The hospital she was being held at prior to this was still a problem, but one they could worry about later - Unless they found their way out Panem, alive and intact, it would be irrelevant.

"We were."

Regardless of how outdated the details were, Luke had been right about one other thing - Rick was helpless against the way his posture stiffened, his attention now focused more fully on him. It wasn't so much that Rick considered him a threat, rather, that anything that touched on the personal side of things left him wary out of hard learned habit. There was no knowing how much anyone here knew about their pasts, and when a man was measured by what you could take from them... Even now, Rick had a lot to lose.

But had Luke wanted to use that information against him, he'd had the opportunity. Multiple opportunities, even. Back in the caves, when he'd been half out of his mind with grief, the time afterwards with Beth. That first encounter in the space station. Carl had wanted him to believe that there were people left who could be trusted, that they were strong enough now that they could extend that hand. Rick wasn't sold on it - But perhaps being their leader meant that he wasn't allowed that anymore. If he chose wrong, he wasn't the only one who suffered for his poor choices.

Or maybe... It just meant that he needed to pave the way. He'd let Tara in. Abraham and his crew. Bob. There were still good people.

"Once we get some things straightened out, we're on our way to Washington."

Once they'd found Beth, Daryl, and Carol. He left that piece out, but it was more insight than he'd have offered most people. He was testing the waters in his own way, watching carefully for Luke's reaction.

"What's in Ohio?"

[burningdaylight]

“There’s supposed to be a place called Wellington... some kind a’ settlement nobody who’s heard of it seems to know all that much about."

He doesn’t expect the name to strike a chord with Rick – it hadn’t with Beth – but he searches his face for a flicker of recognition with a dimly hopeful curiosity. Kenny had caught wind of it and so had Clem and her lost friend; even if the refuge they were chasing after proved in the end to be little more than a pipe dream, it at least had given them a sense of direction and purpose after leaving Carver and his tyrannical dictatorship behind. There had to be something out there for the others, for Clem and AJ's sake. For the kids robbed of anything approaching a joyful, peaceful childhood. There just had to be something more to life than wandering like restless ghosts, eternally starving and and afraid with no place to plant their feet, no place to call their own for longer than a few days.

"But word’s gotten around.” He sucks in his lip, brow knitted, absently studying his painstakingly scuffed-up boots. “An’, yeah, maybe it’s one helluva a shot in the dark here, but… what we’re lookin’ at might be the best chance the group has at somethin' better than jus'… survivin'."

An unspoken ‘but’ underlies his words, his lidded gaze heavier, darker under the quiet strain of guilt and of responsibility and all its struggles and compromises. Under the quiet, desperate search for meaning in what all their lives have become. There’re no such things as fairy tale endings. Just survivors trying to make the most of difficult situations and coming to terms with the fact that their faith and their strength of will wouldn’t always rewarded. Try and hope as you might, not everyone will make it out the other side.

Those who do are changed by it in ways that can never change back.

He looks to Rick, a slight lift to his eyebrows. It's his turn to ask a question -- and Rick's words only feed into the idea that there's little hope to be found the way they came. "So, what’s in Washington?"

[rictator]

The name meant nothing, but there was a sliver of recognition in the way his expression hardened; he may not have heard of it specifically, but Wellington wasn't the only settlement that fit that description. Even now, Terminus was at the forefront of his mind, Gareth's blood still fresh on his machete back home; they'd lured people - his people - in, with their signs and false promises. Preyed on any still daring enough to hope that sanctuary could exist in their ruined world. The only reason no one had realized its purpose earlier was because those who arrived never lived to tell of it.

"Yeah. It could be."

He wasn't going to disguise the doubt in his tone, nor was he going to lie to him. This was a long shot that wasn't likely to pay off. The real question then became whether or not Luke was prepared to handle what came next. If this place didn't exist anymore. If it was a lie. If it wasn't. Even if Wellington was legit, how long could it last? How long until they opened their doors to the wrong people, and it all ended up compromised anyway?

When safety was a temporary state, how could any of them justify taking that sort of risk? How could the loss be worth it, when they'd inevitably be forced to move on anyway?

For Rick, it wasn't a mistake he could afford himself again. He'd come far too close to losing his son, and with Judith now to consider, he had a lot to lose. Their group was better off relying on one another than on the kindness of strangers, and the threat posed by places like Woodbury and Terminus was too difficult to predict; the trap never seemed to snap until they were well within their walls. If it hadn't been for Carol's timely intervention the last time, Glenn wouldn't have made it out. Andrea hadn't.

"But it might not be. You sure you're ready for that possibility?"

This wasn't his call to make. They weren't a part of his crew, and if Luke wanted to go there, that was his choice to make and his consequences to face. He didn't have to like it. All he could do was hope that he'd considered the options thoroughly. Perhaps he was simply reading him wrong, and this was just a gambit to keep his people moving, giving them purpose before they lost their way.

Were he being truthful, that was a large part of why he'd agreed to Washington. The prison's end had battered their hope and their morale, leaving them directionless - Even if he didn't fully believe Eugene, it had given them a goal. The promised cure was the sort of idea that crumbled if held too tightly, fragile and impossible, and Rick had never allowed himself the time to dwell on it - It served its purpose and kept them going forward. It was something.

"It might be nothing. I don't know yet, but that's why we're going," he said at length, taking a drink. "We have a man who had connections there."

[burningdaylight]

There’s a cynicism underlying Rick’s tone that is not unfamiliar, taking Luke back to every night he had spent wide awake at the observation deck, torn at by nagging misgivings. Doubts that still lurk in the back of his mind, even so far away. Once upon a time, even Carver’s community had seemed promising, after all. They had all been so tired. Tired of drifting aimlessly and so ready to build the closest thing resembling a normal life and a routine for themselves.

It’s hard to think about.

“Well, it’s kinda hard not to be when everythin’s gone to shit. S'what the world is now.” He says bluntly, his gaze gleaming with more than quiet, unyielding determination, his heart climbing into his throat. A muscle works in his jaw for a long moment before he finally looks away and back into the crowd, unseeing.

“After what we left behind—“ He blinks slowly, shaking his head in a dazed sort of way. ‘With so many a’ my friends dead, jus’ like that’ “--most days I… I don’ know what to believe anymore.”

He turns worn, half-lidded eyes to his glass as if unsure what to do with it. Somewhere over the course of the evening, the beer has lost its taste.

“…But what I do know is that you keep findin’ a reason to wake up an’ move forward. You do it for the people you care about. Y’don’ jus… give up ‘cause you’re afraid a’ what you might or might not find out there. If you don’ go on hopin’ for a better life an’ take that chance when there ain’t nothin’ else, then you’d might as well jus’ lie down an’ wait for lurkers or cannibals or rapists to come an’ take what little’s left a’ you.”

He’s quiet for a while under the weight of his own words, that heavy solemnity creeping into his bones. It reminds of him of the times he had attended a visitation and been surrounded by family and friends both close and distant, guests milling around with their hands jammed in their pockets or restless by their sides and eyes downturned, no one knowing what to say.

“Anyway…” A sigh slides out of him, his shoulders softening, settling. “I hope it pans out, for you an’ yours. They’re good people.”

tw for mention of rape

[rictator]

There was a faint twitch of his upper lip as he canted his head, his eyes narrowing.

Rick was no stranger to loss; there wasn't one among them that hadn't experienced it in some form. The world took from them more than it gave back now, carving away the layers until only the core remained - and it was easy to lose sight of what was important as it did. Rick recognized that truth better than most. But for Luke to speak as though he'd reached some revelation, as though they hadn't faced the same grim reality day after day... He didn't need to hear it.

The impromptu speech struck a nerve Rick hadn't realized was still raw; months in Panem hadn't been long enough. After what had happened at the church, or being forced to watch as his son was nearly raped... After watching his people treated like cattle, victims of his own poor judgement... Rick hadn't had to wait for those things to happen.

Hope was a necessity, and he would never argue that fact. More than once, he'd choked on it, faking optimism for the sake of those around him. It worked to stave away the dangers of one's own mind, to keep them alive in more than just the physical sense. It separated them from the walkers.

But there was a difference between hope and naiveté. Excess of the former was like a poison, eating away at their guard and leaving them vulnerable. It didn't matter how badly they wanted to live, how much they wanted to believe in a better world - The threats posed by those 'lurkers, cannibals, and rapists' weren't going to disappear. Luke could pray and wish that he'd find what he wanted in Wellington, but it wouldn't change what he found. It wouldn't make those people honest or strong. It wouldn't keep Clementine or Nick alive.

"I get it," he said, any remnants of his previous casual tone evaporating. "You've got people depending on you."

He was wrong. Rick had never given up - He was being smart.

"But you start taking the wrong chances, trusting the wrong people, and it's over."

Wariness had crept back into his already tense frame, evident in the rigid line of his shoulders. He reached up to remove the visor, its glow long since having given root to a headache. With the promise of the next arena looming, he'd never intended to let loose, much less enjoy the evening - but this was a far cry from how he'd envisioned it going. Socializing had never been his forte, but this was edging back into uncomfortable territory.

"They are good people," he agreed, instinctively scanning the room one more time for a glimpse of shaggy brown hair. Worry had been shoved back to the forefront of his mind, gnawing steadily at his thoughts. "They're why I'm still here."

What should have been a sentimental statement had taken on a dangerous edge, protective nature getting the best of him. It wasn't so much that he considered Luke a threat, as much as he was far too aware that he may not have been the only one listening.

[burningdaylight]

He doesn’t need to look long at Rick to sense that something he said cut close to the bone and he glances aside, his face shuttered and thoughtful, his own body winding tighter in turn. There’s nothing more to say, nothing that’s been said that he can challenge. Some of the greatest threats to his safety and that of his friends have been other people, no doubt about that. Lurkers don’t think. They don’t know to exploit hopes or kindness or needs. Don’t kill discriminately, or out of malice or vengeance, fear or jealousy, boredom or sick pleasure. But it’s only because he had taken a calculated risk with Alvin and Rebecca and Carlos and Sarah – and that they had in turn – that he had met the survivors who later became his surrogate family. People he lived for and he’d die for. A wellspring of support to draw from when his own wasn’t enough.

But he knows it’s that same trust that brought them to Howe’s, that had made Carver seem reasonable, at first. A man of the people who preached of building a community, a haven, a life for them all. Hindsight really is 20/20. He treads more lightly now. Places more faith in his gut.

Luke polishes off his drink. All he can do is instinctively wait for that other shoe to drop -- and strive to be ready for it when it does. Until then, there’s the ever-present hum of unease in the pit of his stomach that all the booze flowing through the Capitol just can’t kill. Didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

“...Think m’gon’ have a look around.”

With his visor off, Rick only becomes marginally easier to read, if that. But Luke gets it. They’re in the public eye, they hardly know each other, and the walls built up after years through the wringer aren’t about to be torn down in an evening. Maybe they never would be. And maybe that isn’t so bad, either, from a survival standpoint. But it’s no way to live. He hopes survivors like them can all find a reason – and a way – to lower their defenses and let go, at least for a little while, and not feel like it’s just a disaster waiting to happen.

“You have a good evenin’.” He offers, with a nod, and means it. “At least, s’much as one can ‘round here.”