The Crowning Of Tom Cassidy

[etcircenses]

Who| Everyone who's anyone. (Tributes, Staff, Capitolites, and anyone else in Capitol.)
What| The Crowning of Black Tom Cassidy.
Where| The New Cassidy Keep of the Capitol!
When| From noon to the late evening, Friday.
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| Blatent irish stereotyping. Remember to put any relevant warnings in headers!

The dress code for this crowning is certainly a strange one. Greenery, burlap sacks, and "Irish" themed outfits which many a confused Capitolites has take as to simply be the color green. Among them can be found the sorts of ridiculous bright costumes as could be found in a 1970's comic book-- not that the 1970's are even a real time period. Spandex, V-necks, and popped collars are going to be a common sight tonight.

Guests are brought out to the stunning blue-green bay. There's a new feature there, a great big replica of Cassidy Keep. And it's been built upon a rock. How it stays up is a mystery, but it's no doubt a stunning site as guests are brought in on boats to a grand staircase that leads to even bigger doors.

Guests enter into a beautiful castle and garden both. Trees grow through the stones, vines climb over the stair railings, flowers bloom on the walls, and in some place the castle gives way purely to nature with small ponds set in. Like an internal rainforest (though the temperature is comfortable and cool) there's greenery everywhere soaking up the light that shines through the high windows. Statues stand tall of Black Tom Cassidy, Molotov Cocktease, and Arya Stark, sometimes all of them together. Then are more of an imposing man named Unstoppable Thuggernaut, a young girl named Theresa, the same girl older with the plaque deeming her to be "Siren", and statues of the the three of them together, both as a family and posing to fight. And of course, one can't forget that grand paintings of infamous arena scenes featuring Black Tom. Paths are set around to help guide guests, the main path leading into the biggest room of the keep.

Sponsored by Below Timberline, a temporary dining area has been set up within the castle-- high above the ground! All along the treetops that shoot up to the ceiling are the vine and wood woven nests for guests to be seated in. Waiters, waitresses, and Avoxes make their way along thick branches and rope bridges. But despite appearances, there's no chance of falling! Forcefields have been put up around the whole area to prevent such a tragedy from occurring to guests, waiters, and waitresses.

There are Avox operated lifts to help guests up to the tree tops, and though this might be an eyesore for some, they've all been dressed pleasant green, some with little hats. All the better to match the theme and blend into it!

That's not all that's gained the Irish theme. The menu consists all of foods that would be found in this mysterious off-world residence. Corned beef and cabbage, Irish stew, colcannon, black pudding, crubeens, shepherd's pie, champ, boxty, shelfish, Blaa, Goody, and Barmbrack despite it being out of season. There is even a cereal dish of what may very well be Lucky Charms. Drinks include "Irish" Whiskey, ales, porter, coffee and cream, and cider both alcoholic and not (for the kids). There is significantly more whiskey with Tom's face upon it than not and much of the drinks are served in large mug glasses.

Down below the dining area are two clear spaces for dancing, one for the professionals giving performance, and one for those seeking to try on their own. The show isn't just an entertaining watch, it's dancers bring more to the music as well, tapping out a beat. Mixed in to shake up the river dancing, Irish-styled folk songs play, generally regaling tales of Black Tom Cassidy and his exploits, but occasionally playing a song or two about other Tributes.

In between floors is a stand where cotton candy makers craft giant colorful flowers. On the far end of the room, set up high, sits Tom's throne. Torches crown the top of the wooden throne, vines woven over the arm rests, a strange metal meant to visually mirror that of vibranium, shines in elegant swirling detail over and around the whole chair. A soft black material is stretched over the back and seat of the throne, marked in red on the back with Tom's symbol. Tom's crown features flowers and shining rubies set in the wood.

Set up in another room is a shillelagh game of shooting water out of the staff at the targets and winning a prize. Prizes include real "authentic" Shillelaghs, and ones that light up and show fire at the end thanks to an internal projection mechanism. And it's perfectly harmless!

Another room winds and twists through a dark torch lit tunnel in a guided tour through a replica portion of Cassidy keep that's been filled with amazing info about Panem's new Victor! Pictures of his life, his youth, his loves, and his adventures. There are replica vibranium pieces, models featuring Tom's many outfits, a pretend prison for guests to have their picture taken inside of, and on-wall descriptions of his villainous escapades. Both those and the tour guide tend to loop back to how he's found redemption here in Panem, now a model citizen.

A third room has been cleared for allowing a giant game of cops and robbers, which Tom has exemplified in present and past respectively. Those brought in to play are dressed in villain's outfits for the "robbers" and all Peacekeeper white for the "cops".

One door leads out to a bridge, connecting the island to the chasm edge across from it. There's a section of rolling hills there where guests are encouraged to seek out four leaf clovers and have them exchanged for engraved gold and bronze rings, flower bouquets, a free meal courtesy of Below Timberline, or even Limited Edition Black Tom Cassidy memorabilia. The white bridge across is lit underneath like that of the ha'penny bridge in the exotic offworld Ireland, but unlike ha'penny, the bridge's lights form beautiful moving pictures of various arena scenes, particularly the finale.

Saddened these scenes are out of sight? Fear not! The wide bridge has a second function: bungee jumping! Overseen by an attendant, with the proper equipment fitting, you too can take a dive into a chasm. Like Black Tom did, only on purpose and absolutely injury-free! The bungee is perfectly secure and safe with more attendants waiting below to pick up those... at the end of their rope. Boats waiting along the far edges pick up the guests again to bring them back around to the Cassidy Keep party. And what a party it is.

But it's not all fun and games at this crowning. Come evening, the dance floor is cleared and a stage and podium are swiftly set up. All the guests are sat. Tributes are sat up front, Capitolites and other guests in the back. Peacekeepers line in rows on the back and sides of the stage. Those still on duty situate between the Tributes and guests. Dead-center, with the rows of Tributes on either side, are two Peacekeepers that some might recognize as being one of the more heavily afflicted Peacekeepers on the day of the Medieval Games-watching Party. Though the offworld "sickness" vanished shortly after the first arrest was made, these two still don't look so hot, one nursing what might be a headache, and the other just plain looking ill.

Comments

The Victor's Speech

[etcircenses]

Re: The Victor's Speech

[pimpcanes]

Tom didn't expect to have such conflicting feelings at his own victory ceremony, and in a way he feels a bit cheated for it. Rather than the blazing, all-encompassing egomania he was looking forward to, instead there are uncomfortable reminders of his failed relationships, and more upsettingly, of his own fragility. Returning him from plant-form to human hadn't been an easy one for the Capitol, nor for him, and aches and pains seem wended around each nerve in his body. Rather than the plunging V-necks he prefers, he's wearing a high collar to hide the bandages covering the wound where he was hit by lightning in the Arena, and he's still missing two fingers at the medial bone (although the Peacekeeper health plan should help with replacing those).

Still, Tom doesn't like to brood in public, and even the pangs of frailty and lost love aren't enough to keep him from feeling in large part delighted at the entirety of his sorry peers having to go through the motions of a ceremony in his honor. Call it spite, call it pettiness, call it megalomania: it's hard to be in a bad mood when people you don't like are forced to pretend to be happy about you beating all of them at a death match.

It's even better when you have a literally captive audience that has to listen to you wax rhapsodic about the sound of your own voice. With Molotov at his side and Arya in his field of vision, he walks up to the podium, resting his hand on a new cane, one with all the pomp and flair the Capitol has come to represent (it has nonsense "Celtic" symbols in gold all over it).

"Well, well, well. What a lovely night it is to celebrate the first worthy Victor we've had in many a year." He takes his time, indulging each syllable as if it were a fine dark chocolate, biting into each word with his accent intentionally exaggerated. "And I'm sure I speak for everyone that matters when I say that I hope this is the beginning of a sea change in the Games results, which have rewarded cowardice and weakness for far too long. It's time that they reward spirit and gamesmanship, enthusiastic participation and talent.

"Before I lecture all the Tributes who didn't win, I would like to draw some attention to the two women of District Ten who haven't suffered humiliating defeats. I'm looking forward to working with you, Miss Carter. You've done great things for your District."

He clears his throat and moves on.

"This victory brings back to the fore a skill that so many of my fellow Tributes lack both in and outside the Arena: pragmatism. We have so many words for pragmatism that make it seem vulgar and undesirable. We call it ruthless, bloodthirsty, heartless.

"But the truth is, pragmatists survive. I look at all you lads and lasses and see foolish alliances, self-sacrifice not of your souls but of your bodies. I see towering hypocrisy as you let the children of the Arena die miserable, starving, sickly deaths rather than granting them a kind exit. You pretend you're all the better for getting fluthered on the pettiest, most selfish ideals, so all of you can sleep well at night while you drag this country down around everyone's ears.

"It's by the grace of the Capitol that we've not been eradicated entirely for stirring up too much of a threat, but as that truth's inconvenient for you, you choose to ignore it, and we all pay the price. Not just you individuals, but all your comrades that you claim to care for. I won't pretend I've no bones in this matter: I'd rather not continue watching Arya and Molotov have their god-given privacy and dignity stripped from them because some of the less desirable Tributes here decided to play it fast and loose and foolish.

"This victory is symbolic not just of my own quite impressive capabilities," he preens a little, "but of rewards to real virtue, not just the ones that make us feel warm and fuzzy and righteous inside. This victory is a reward to common sense."

He doesn't believe himself virtuous, but it's true: he does believe himself cleverer than the rebels. He believes it'll be him and his who survive the war that everyone can see is coming.

"Now, before the night's over, I hope you'll find you have reason to reconsider some of your more...unsavory positions, aye? You'll see what I mean." Tom grins, and it's the cruel, heartless grin that squints his eyes the same way a glare might. He then turns it to the two Peacekeepers between all the Tributes. "How does that American saying go? 'Nice guys finish last'?"

With that, he limps back to the throne with Molotov and takes a seat.

Guest Mingle

[etcircenses]

Arya Stark | OTA

[needlebearer]

For once, Arya doesn't mind the dress her stylists have shoved her in too much. It's still not practical or comfortable enough for her, not the sort of outfit she could run around and climb trees in - and the way the Crowning is set up, that's pretty much all she wants to do right now - but she likes the natural, earthy colours and the patterns and leaves intricately sewn into it. It feels like the sort of clothing that wouldn't be out of place in a Godswood, and for once she finds the nostalgia a little comforting instead of just painful.

Throughout the evening she's inseparable from a sickly looking black bat that she leads around on a sparkly purple leash, though the length of the leash is wound around her wrist for most of the evening and she carries the bat under one arm for the most part, swiping food from the buffet and occasionally from the plates of other party goers, desperate to find something that will keep up her pet's strength.

She doesn't feel so strange being a part of this Crowning, as it's based on her history with Tom and Molotov in Panem rather than a fictitious shoehorning her in as it had been in Tony's Crowning. She's actually rather proud of the statues of her, spending considerable time sitting at the base of her favourite, one where she looks particularly vicious and wild and tomboy-ish. Otherwise she can be found at the tops of the trees or looking longingly around the castle, feeling homesick for Winterfell despite herself.

Emily Finch | OTA

[conifer]

This is the second event in a row that Emily has found herself loving, almost despite herself. It's the outfit that does it, a beautiful flowing gown that makes her feel like a princess or the tragic ghost of one, floating around the grand hallways and chasms of the castle. Her hair is a complicated nest of braids, and she keeps reaching up and tracing over them with a fingertip, as if to reassure herself they're still there and to follow the trail they make over her scalp.

She hangs back for the most part, feeling a little lost in big crowds as always, spending a good deal of the evening leaning against one of the tall stone walls with a glass of cider, people watching. She finds herself very taken with the dancing, not enough to try herself, but she watches the professionals with rapt attention, applauding louder than any of the other spectators. It doesn't feel like the dances of the Capitol, but rather something natural and raw and brimming with tradition, something that could easily be found in one of the Districts - even her own perhaps, with the forest the prevailing theme - and she finds herself enchanted by it.

Closed to Beck:
She's seen Beck through the crowd several times over the course of the evening, and every time she's found her cheeks burning red and the sensation of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She's always found some excuse to get away from her, deliberately positioning herself behind a large group, or conveniently finishing her cider and going for more when she sees her drawing near. She knows she can't avoid her forever, though, and eventually when she sees her passing by she takes a deep breath, trying to remember all of the tips Cassian had given her. She's rehearsed a hundred different lines to strike up a conversation with her, but they all go out of her head when she's face to face with Beck, and instead she just smiles and says rather lamely,

"Beck. Hi. It's a real nice night for an evening, don't you think?"

She wishes a hole in the floor would open beneath her feet and swallow her up.

Molotov Cocktease | OTA

[molotov]

Molotov can't remember the last time she was so goddamned happy to be at one of these parties. Any of them, the Crownings or the balls or the Capitolites' endless parties. It probably helps that there are statues of her all around, and that she's being treated like a queen, not that she's particularly done anything to deserve it. She's even styled as one, which suits her absolutely fine, and she's glad to float around the party as if she'd won the crown herself.

She can often be found at the throne, draped over Tom as he entertains, and when he's not occupying his throne, she has no qualms about taking a seat herself. She can also be seen in one of the tree nests of the restaurant, nursing whiskeys and eating oysters (she refuses to eat any of the potato dishes on principle, as a Russian).

The only time her mood dampens is as she stands in front of a huge picture in the gallery, of a woman labeled Maeve Rourke Cassidy. Her eye is narrowed, and she just sort of stares at the picture, sipping a whiskey, as if she expects it to spring to life.

But no matter, because in the clover fields, she seems perfectly happy again, sitting with an extremely tame bear (which she stole from horrible musicians who were making him dance), picking little white flowers and resting them on his head as he rests it in her lap. It's his last night as a free bear before he goes to live in comfort at the Capitol Zoo, so she's insisted that he get to laze around in the grass one more time, and the two of them are watching the partygoers hunt for lucky clovers.

China Sorrows | ota

[contrarianlibrarian]

China’s outfit doesn’t quite have the refined air she likes to give off, but she doesn’t let the slight goofiness of it shake her poise. On the other hand, she’s very pleased with her tattoos—vibrantly colored twists of Celtic knots.

She meanders through the area, spending much of her time listening to the songs. Art certainly takes its liberties, but she keeps her ears open for anything that might hold a grain of truth.

Eventually, she makes her way around the rest of the attractions, though she skirts the more adventurous cops and robbers and clover hunting and dawdles by the cotton candy flowers. At any point in the night, she may offer someone nearby a smile and a quiet hello, no matter if she knows them or not.

Firo Prochainezo | ota

[foundafamily]

Firo is not pleased.

The biggest problem, of course, is that this Crowning honors a guy who killed his friend, though the fact that he’s dressed like a leprechaun doesn’t help matters at all. Though he quietly ditches the absurd top hat early on, the shame remains.

One of the first things he spots is the fake prison cell and that’s when he finally admits to himself that, yeah, this is probably going to be the worst party yet. Arms folded over his chest, he scowls at it. “Are you kiddin’ me? These people’ve probably never spent a day a’ their lives in prison.” While he doesn’t shout it, he isn’t speaking nearly quietly enough.

Later in the night, he finally braves the booze area and begins rooting through the bottles for one that doesn’t have Tom on it. He slams each unsuitable bottle back down on the table with more anger the longer he’s at it.

Linden Lockhearst | OTA

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden looks better in dark colors, and that's what he's wearing tonight; his suit is a forest-green velvet number with silver accents. It still doesn't do much to offset the yellowish tinge in his skin, but he's not drinking this evening, and he'll deny anything he's offered, even if he seems to struggle past a certain point to maintain his conviction.

Whether he's drunk or sober, he doesn't like the public and he despises crowds, and he particularly hates the gaudy and over-the-top Crownings tailored to all the absurdities of the lucky Victor's home world. Maybe he's sore that his Tribute, Phillip, came close to winning but didn't, but regardless of the reason, he seems edgy this evening, less of a hot mess and more of a quiet, observant presence reluctant to let anything escape his notice.

He sticks to the outskirts of the party, hands in his pockets instead of nursing a drink, congratulating anyone associated with Black Tom's District and maintaining a standard of good sportsmanship. As always at the Crownings in the new Games, though, it's odd to think that 6's people aren't dead, but might actually be listening over his shoulder as his conversation partners eagerly recap their demises and the Arena's finale. Every now and then, he glances over his shoulder, looking for an easy out or at least an opportunity to take a cigarette break outside.

Phil Gray | OTA

[voiceinthephone]

Phillip barely got to rest off his return into the land of the living and...seeing what he did back home, before he was dragged away into a new Crowning. His death had been so sudden, his neck snapped while unconscious, at least there was that. Though Gray did remember a lot of headaches before everything stopped and the unending sleep came. He chuckled just a little darkly, his killer had been a child, On par with the course it seems.. Hell, he didn't have to catch up on the Arena or check if Venus and his friends was okay, he was just dolled up and sent out to meet and greet.

So...Black Tom Cassidy won, huh, he asked around, wearing a rather snug and green costume with long dark green boots. Phil appreciated the hood the cape provided, it gave the Tribute some desperately needed privacy after the Arena. This Crowning was straight out of a fairy tale, the setting with nature giving the stone walls a beautiful look, the location, it almost made up for the fact that the Victor was a grade-A ruthless man. And possibly a sentient tree.

There was something different about the Phone Guy as he took the nearest glass of booze (GOD HE MISSED SWEET, SWEET ALCOHOL) and settled down close to one of the ponds. He looked less haunted and the smile he wore was far less restrained. He'd seen truly horrible things but in a sense, he was at peace. Those children, those he carried in his mind, they got their revenge somehow...and that's what he's going to focus on, not the horrid screams of an undead murderer, nope. Those inclined to break that peace, and give him an update may do so if they please.

Ermac | OTA

[glowygreendeath]

Ermac was none too pleased about being shoved into this outfit for the Coronation, but like a good construct he knows when he needs to follow orders. Although they're not explicitely said to be such, he takes he escorts' chatter and demands to mean that he is, in fact, being ordered to go to this party and...mingle.

And so, rather than training for his debut Arena, Ermac is swallowing his pride enough to drink a glass of whiskey and listen in on a few conversations.

Miss Gritta | OTA

[shiningeyes]

Green had never been Gritta's favorite color, but the dress that Cassian had designed for her was beginning to change her mind. Panels and padding served to give her something like a fashionable figure, and she enjoyed the long sleeves and headdress. She knew that she was hardly the most beautiful girl in attendence, but she felt at least on par with everyone else. Elegant and adorable and ready for anything. What would Zed think? (What would Schwarz think? Oh, no, don't think that...)

Her spirits are high, and she is determined to have a good time today. The last party had ended with fainting and panic, and she sincerely hopes that this one will go much more pleasantly. And a pleasant attitude will help that along, yes? Hopefully? It's important that she make a good impression upon everyone, for she'll need as many sponsors as she can get. Karkat had made it clear. And while she can't even begin to match him for volume or vitriol, she can definitely beat him in manners and charm. Every part of the party will be passed through curiously, eager to ask questions or start a conversation if the chance arises. Though there are two places where she's lingering a little longer...

The cotton candy flowers draw her attention the moment she spots them, and she's quick to rush over and request one. They're beautiful and delicious! She's never seen anything like them! But her fluffy flower is quickly devoured and it tastes like more... her Escort will surely disapprove of her deviating from the diet she's been put on, but she might never have the chance to have one again! There's a second trip, and then an hour later a third, and then half an hour later a fourth... If you're looking to catch her holding still for a bit, you'd have luck catching her here.

A less happy scene is playing out later, at one of the lifts leading to the dining area suspended above the festivities. She very much wants to go up and partake, but another staff member intervened before the Avox could take her up, and there's much ado about weight limits and safety. "...but I would be careful! Please, are you sure that there's no way? I've used elevators without any trouble at all, this can't be much different!" Maybe someone ought to step in.

Roland Deschain | OTA

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland doesn't head for the festivities right away. Instead the moss draws his eye, the vine growing over the crumbling rocks, and while others in the crowd move toward the more lively parts of the party he wanders over to one of those places where the pond and forest seem to have crept inside the castle without anyone quite noticing. He looks thoughtful as he moves closer to it, even before his own reflection catches his eye, but once his eye does catch on that sight of himself it's hooked there, and stays. He runs his left hand carefully over the edges of the beard, and then stares a moment more. There's fashion, for which in Panem Roland has always had some strong distaste, and then there is this. This is something else. He looks to himself like a creature from one of those old tales, having just slid its way out of some dark and forbidden wood.

Anyone else might be forgiven for thinking the same, for when Roland makes his way up from the hidden areas of that little pond area he does very nearly blend with the scenery. He clearly isn't thinking on whether he's about to appear too suddenly directly into anyone's path, focused instead on the little wall half-surrounding this pond. His right hand, its two mechanical fingers now wooden and intricately carved with leaves, runs over the moss on that wall and almost sees another place, another castle in a time very far away. (A)

The next time Roland actually stops is in front of the shillelagh game. Catch him holding the thing, hefting it and inspecting it very closely while the Capitolite running the game makes more and more annoyed attempts to badger Roland into actually playing. To look at him, Roland does not hear those attempts at all. Nothing more than a buzzing in his ears. (B)

Cops and Robbers, they call this. Roland looks down at the white now covering his formerly green outfit, then up at the scene around him. There's no real way in this busy, crowded room to avoid being in someone's path but regardless, he is taking a moment. He's supposed to be chasing everyone dressed a certain way, this much has been explained. But what then? This is Panem, but it's also a crowning, so- "Probably don't expect us to kill one another," he says to himself, although he isn't really trying not to be heard. His tone sounds mostly dry, mostly certain that murder is not in fact required. Mostly. (C)

(ooc: Or (D) feel free to make your own! Roland will be wandering around so feel free to have your character catch him anywhere, looking thoughtfully at stuff, occasionally making faces.)

Sigma Klim | OTA

[futilecycle]

Sigma akins wading through the crowning to navigating a minefield - it was impossible to know which moves brought him closer to a threat.

High in rank as he is, it is no longer necessary for him to comply with all the embarrassing whims of his stylist, though he was depressed to find he still had one. Save for the short mystic cloak draped over his shoulders and a piece of Irish jewelry, Sigma's costume is otherwise ordinary. Those with a keen eye and a love of history may find a message engraved into the ring... and it does not take much observation to learn that Sigma is awfully fond of puzzles.

Though he may appear unaccompanied, the peacekeepers' eyes trace his movements as he passes them by. This was an especially remarkable night for the Gamemaker for several reasons. The first is that Black Tom was the victor of his first, if probationary, Arena, and it was his duty to put on a proud face for his new victor. The second was that he would turn seventy not an hour into the following day, a harrowing thought for a man who, until now, had been functionally immortal. No longer would he be protected by the almost necromatic powers of the morphogenetic field... not so long as his powers were bottled by the Capitol. Even then, they could not protect him from a death brought on by age and all that accompanied it: from here Sigma thought he may descend at breakneck speed towards the end of his wholly unfulfilled life.

Aang | OTA

[actually112]

Dinner

Aang doesn't need your elevators!

Aang may not love the Victor, but he loves this Crowning. He can climb trees, and his bat, Hariti, doesn't look out of place on his shoulder, nuzzled at the crook of his neck. He doesn't know how Hariti's been changed in the lab, but whatever happened, she's much more comfortable around lots of noise than regular bats should be.

He hikes his blue flower petal dress halfway up his thighs--he's been in drag so many times now that he's stopped caring because at least it's stylish drag--and then jumps onto one of the trees, shimmying up until he can get a good foothold on a branch and start climbing with the skill of a monkey. Wisely, his Stylist allowed him to wear shorts under his dress, so he won't end up flashing anyone with all his acrobatics. He also has allowed his Stylist to put facepaint on his face and head, mostly because the facepaint sounded awesome.

You might see Aang dangle upside down with his bat and a large grin from a tree branch when you pass him by in the elevator.

Chasm

Aang has kicked off his shoes. Hariti is now chilling out on his head, luckily not messing up the facepaint. Aang digs his toes in the ground before getting down on his knees and crawling around to look for a four-leaf clover.

Honestly, he's just happy to be able to dig his fingers into the dirt, but soon enough... "Hey, I found one!"

Quintus Falxvale | OTA

[lex_paciferat]

Just as at the last crowning, Quintus is assisting with security tonight, conspicuous in his white uniform and with the medal he'd earned from being injured in combat dangling from his chest. Though his appearance is never very sloppy, he looks particularly put-together tonight--his clothes pressed, boots polished, face freshly shaven. He's even wearing a hint of aftershave, an extra detail he didn't bother with at the blind date. He knows already what's to come at the ceremony, and like everything that makes him nervous, he felt the need to approach it in as comprehensive a way as possible.

A decade in the districts, a few years in city surveillance, a couple months managing the Center--and here he is, higher in the ranks than he had expected to rise, at least this quickly. He had nearly choked on his morning coffee when he'd gotten the call and been offered the position, but in the ensuing hours an uncomfortably unfamiliar thought had entered his mind--I deserve this. He's never been a proud person, deferring instead to duty and the pragmatic value of his work. A gradual awareness of his greater ability, his need for deeper challenges than the daily grind of soldiering, had taken long enough. The idea that the system might owe him a bit more than what he's directly fought for? That's a novel one.

The announcement is supposed to be a surprise, but of course word has already taken off through the ranks, and his rounds about the castle are punctuated by congratulations from city peacekeepers over his earbud radio and the occasional passing salute. He tries not to let it distract him, periodically checking his watch as he looks and listens for trouble, telling inebriated patrons to get down from this or back away from that, heading wherever additional aid might be needed.

Peggy Carter (Panem) | OTA

[impaledqueen]

Peggy looks fucking amazing, and she obviously knows it. Her dress is made of roses and the roses in her hair are on fire--well, the fake fire that was made popular by Katniss Everdeen's Games. Her makeup is perfectly on point--lipstick the color of the roses and dark eye shadow to play with the light of her headpiece. District 10's Stylist likes to make sure all representatives of 10 look good.

During dinner, she walks around a fair bit, schmoozing with Sponsors and Capitolites for the most part, giving the statements she's supposed to give, and smile and nod about possible deals for other Tributes of hers. Sometimes, she sits down to rest her feet, flashing a winning smile to her new neighbor. "Is this seat taken?"

Then, once the dance floor opens up for people to go dance themselves, she dances with Capitolites, continuing the schmoozing, but those who know her will notice she doesn't enjoy that as much. She doesn't like touching Sponsors when she can help it, but dancing is only polite when you're asking for enormous sums of money, so she smiles.

Eventually, she comes to the edge of the dance floor again before glancing to the person next to her. "Care for a dance?"

Meulin Leijon | OTA

[furgood]

Attending a crowning is an honor, but after the collapsing and questioning from her last party, Meulin is slightly more reluctant about attending. Still, it's not something you just miss, if you have the opportunity, you go. Compared to some of the more outlandish dresses surrounding her, she's dressed rather simply, the main focus being the ornate flower crown pinned atop her braid. Her shoes looked flimsier than they felt and her dress was surprisingly comfortable for the sheer amount of petticoats tucked beneath. It felt a little strange not to be in her green or the long skirted dresses she had worn to her last two outings, but she thought the flowers suited her. There's a small comfort in the green vines that twine around her eyes.

Still, it's not strictly a for fun outing. Who dances with whom is always a big topic, secret talks in corners, all the little things that bring a good column to a great column. She lingers in corners, too large glasses of something alcoholic in hand, but eventually the dutiful watching grows tiring. She gathers up a cotton candy flower and eats it bit by bit as she watches the dancers. It is quite a bit more sugar than she anticipated, especially for a woman unused to sugar at all, but she refuses to throw it away. Consequently, the flower is her companion for most of the evening.

It's later when she makes her way across the chasm, slowly and with utmost caution, and finds the fields of clover. It takes a few mimes and hand waving on their part to explain the premise but she's up to the task. Most of the evening finds her out in the air, looking at clover after clover or watching the people throw themselves off the bridge with just a rope to keep them alive.

More courage than she has, to say the least.

Gary Epps | OTA

[a_minute_younger]

It's funny how the one outfit Gary's been dressed in that could actually pass as your standard costume party getup is the one that makes him feel the most ridiculous. This is nothing to do with the costume itself and everything to do with the people of the Capitol apparently not understanding what he's trying to be. He had to spell out the idea of leprechauns to his stylist, who looked at him like he'd gone stark-raving mad (which, considering Gary's usual requests for his stylist, is significant), and the rest of the dress that the other guests have arrived in are simply green with the occasional four-leaf clover. They don't seem to understand what Ireland is except on a very basic level. It's almost...dare he say it? Offensive. Kind of innocently offensive, like someone got a little carried away with a bet. What an odd realization to have, more than half a year into his stay in the Capitol.

Naturally, Gary gets over this peculiar feeling quickly and his enjoyment of the festivities goes unhindered.

[A] As is usual, he spends most of his time on the dance floor. And as should also be expected, Gary remains a horrible dancer, especially when it comes to something as delicately coordinated as river dancing. At least the Capitolites that he flits between on the stage are just as bad as he is, and so long as they're all having fun being fools, no one is the wiser. This may change drastically when Gary briefly ducks away from his latest dance partner and reaches for the hand of someone standing on the outskirts of the floor. Maybe they're contemplating joining in, or maybe they've stopped to laugh or stare in horror. Either way, Gary's in their space, panting lightly through an opened-mouth grin from all the running around he's doing, and he looks quite eager to include them in on the fun.

[B] If Gary isn't dancing, he's more than likely eating. Most of the food is stuff that he doesn't recognize but is worth at least taking a taste of, but in the end, he can't resist the candy. The cotton candy in particular. He's somehow gotten a hold of a massive flower spun larger than his head, which, while ornate and magnificent and plenty to keep him occupied, is better suited for someone that doesn't move around as much as he does. Gary walks through the crowds completely blind with the flower in front of his face, and is more than likely to run into anyone else who isn't fully alert to where they're going.

[C] At some point Gary wanders his way to the bridge, and from there, the bungee jumping. How could he resist bungee jumping? The only problem here is that he needs someone to hold a few things so he doesn't lose them. Someone standing nearby gets an insistent tap on the shoulder, which is the only warning before Gary is shoving the remains of his cotton candy flower and his large hat into their hands.

"Hold this for a sec, would you?" Alarmingly, Gary bites his lip and reaches down the front of his exaggerated v-neck with his free hand.

[tucky]

It feels a little weird, showing up at the Crowning. The woman who'd killed her is probably going to be there. The woman who'd betrayed her is probably going to be there. The people she tried to kill are probably going to be there, too.

But it's a Capitol event, and Tiffany cares about the Capitol. And she likes Tom - she doesn't know him, but he'd been nice to her when she'd first arrived, sitting with her in a bar and sharing a drink with her. She's happy for him.

So she goes to the celebration, and mills around awkwardly at the edges of the crowd. She eats and drinks with abandon, and dances alone or with anyone that will have her, trying to pretend she doesn't feel awkward and out of place. She shouldn't. She's a Tribute.

Wednesday Addams | OTA

[homicidium]

While she'd faced challenges in the Arena from her size, sometimes it's good to be small.

Wednesday doesn't look that much different than normal, save for red elbow-length gloves and heavy black eyeliner. She'd refused to have her hair changed from her plaits, and she refused the colored contacts, but she agreed to an intentionally-damaged veil and crown of twisted up branches.

But she shed those soon after arriving, mostly because they were unwieldy and drew attention to her. She left them at the foot of a statue of a huge man, then slid through the small gaps in the crowd until she found herself in a dark tunnel. There are torches on the walls, and a lot of stupid memorabilia that she doesn't care about, but Wednesday knows enough about dark castle tunnels to find a little alcove she can hide in, invisible to anyone who isn't paying meticulous attention to the stone walls.

She hates all of these people, and she hates that they would make her come to a party for an unhinged tree man who viciously beat her head in. It's unfair that they've made it mandatory, forced her to come celebrate the person who defeated her.

So Wednesday stays in the alcove as long as she can, picking at loose threads on the hem of her dress.

Porrim | Open

[fusshionable]

Porrim loves a good crowning; it's a great excuse to dress up in something extravagant, have a few drinks, and socialize--and get paid for it. The irony that the last crowning had ended in her taking a Tribute home isn't lost on her, considering that said Tribute is gone now and she's probably going to be punished for her indiscretions any day now. So she's got to play it safe tonight. She knows this, and yet she's picked the most scandalous dress she owns to wear. In keeping with the theme, it's nature-themed, but mostly it involves a whole lot of sheer, shimmery fabric and three strategically placed jade-green floral appliques. It shows a whole lot of body, including the full extent of her tattoos: intricate floral designs, the phases of the moon spanning the front of her ribcage, symbols of womanhood and fertility, skulls, roses, a huge pirate ship on one thigh; there's an awful lot to look at, if you don't feel too awkward to stare. Her hair is set into long, perfect waves down to her waist, her makeup flawless as usual, jade green contacts in her eyes.

The long train of her dress has her staying in one spot quite a bit; she makes a habit of standing and sipping a drink in advantageous places around the room, so as not to have to maneuver the train around too much. When she does move, people tend to part in her wake, giving her plenty of room to walk. She keeps an eye on her Tributes like a good Escort, pausing to talk to coworkers and friends and acquaintances alike. She spends awhile seated near one of the small, babbling pools, nibbling at a plate full of "exotic" food from Tom's homeland and enjoying the scenery. It's nice, for someone who's only ever seen the inside of the Capitol, to be somewhere she's at once indoors and given over to nature. Porrim's in a surprisingly good mood; hopefully nobody will set out to sour it.

Neorah Redglare | OTA

[warandpeacekeeping]

If anyone thought that the Peacekeeper would attend wearing something practical, something typical of a Peacekeeper, that they could run around in, they were sadly disappointed. Indeed, it seemed like Redglare had tried to make her outfit as ridiculous as possible, vines and leaves only keeping her modesty with some strong tape and wiring. But she wears it with the officialness of a suit, and glides around like she owns the place, back straight and eyes sharp.

She seems perfectly content with the outfit, and adjusts it often, occasionally picking up flowers as she walked along and adding them on. She seemed to challenge anyone to question the outfit when she spoke to them, making sure to draw attention to it. Of course, all she got were compliments from pleased Capitolites.

It had been a while since she had been to the Capitol, but while social stands and fashions were constantly in flux, good families that stood the test of time would always be well known, and her family was a good one. And, naturally, Redglare was a sterling example, as she was told repeatedly, when she was approached by other Peacekeepers, and Capitolites alike. She socialized with everyone who came up to her, all warm smiles and that cackling laugh. Occasionally she was approached by people that she didn't seem fond of--They got an even warmer smile, and words as sharp as barbs, and coated in honey. It would take them a few hours to even word out that they'd been insulted.

This was not Redglare's element. She preferred to be in the trenches, wearing her uniform. A gun in her hand, and her squad at her side. But you would think that surely, this was where she truly belonged, the way that she shone.

[allyorfoe]

It could be worse.

That's what Tabris reminds herself as she moves along, somewhat buffeted from the world around her by her very thematic and poofy dress, as well as her ridiculously tall heels. She feels quite irate, unable to decide if she looks foolish or quite pretty. Either way, she knows one thing. If she has to wear this, than by the Maker himself, at least she won't let herself look miserable, like some pretty dour faces she could spot. No, if she had to be here, and had to wear this, than she would make it work.

She walks slowly around, carefully measuring out her balance in the heels. She doesn't want toe teeter like a newborn calf, or look anything but completely natural. This means that she's moving very slowly around, and occasionally will find a seat when the heels are just too much. Otherwise, she can be found at the bar, shoving cotton candy in her mouth in an entirely adult and responsible manner, and staring in befuddled confusion at the river dancing.

The Peacekeeper Reward Ceremony

[etcircenses]

[ CW: Violence, Language, & Illness/Injury]

The speaker rises up onto the stage.

"Let us welcome some of Panem's Peacekeeping force to the stage, starting with Quintus Falxvale, our Security Coordinator of the Training Center, Black Tom Cassidy, our new Victor and Officer of Tribute Supervision and Control, Albert Wesker, Victor of Arena six and Peackeper, and Terezi Pyrope, Junior Peacekeeper. Everyone give a round of applause!" The speaker, of course, carries on whether there is applause or not.

"Now, the true age of conscription is still eighteen, but thanks to the work of many young Tributes, including Terezi Pyrope, the Capitol has conceded to opening up a new program; the junior peacekeeping program, for youth of the Capitol, Districts, and Tribute tower alike! This program is designed to give those younger a step up in their desired Peacekeeping career. Junior Peacekeepers will be granted the chance to monitor network communications, act as peer support to fellow youths, preform basic tasks for the troupes, and occasionally join in on patrols-- in non-problematic areas of course." Capitolites in the back can be heard sighing in relief that their children are out of harms way.

"In honor of her service, Terezi Pyrope is hereby promoted to the position of Junior Peacekeeper Executive. She will be granted the opportunity of a week long training course, In-Capitol, with official Peacekeepers, temporarily exempting her from the Tribute Youth Programme. She will further be charged with greater patrol route surveillance and more field-work opportunities. As Junior Peacekeeper Executive, Terezi Pyrope will help greet and introduce new Junior Peacekeepers to the program. Her new comic, Peacekeeper Diaries, the story of a plucky young Peacekeeper who dreams of being a Peacekeeper and has incredible adventures with the help of her four friends and pet, will available for purchase by the front doors following the ceremony. A great gift for children, yet fun for all ages. Terezi Pyrope herself will be available for signings for the first ten in line." Terezi does not seem to have been informed of her new duty beforehand.

"But let us not forget our friend, and Victor of the sixth quell arena, Albert Wesker. As a mainstain in our glorious Capitol, Mr. Wesker has given us all much. Already a full fledged Peacekeeper, we offer to him this a badge for his servitude. We know the Defence Against Cyber-Terrorism and Domestic Network Threat have been pining for you as a Cyber-Defence Officer under their jurisdiction, but I think we can all agree that, no matter your place, you'll continuing serving the City who has given you so much to the best of your ability."

"And of course, Black Tom Cassidy, Officer of Tribute Supervision and Control, and newest Victor, is absolutely one to celebrate. Having single handedly been responsible for the swift apprehension of Darcy Lewis and Thorongil, two individuals brainwashed into rebellious action, it's no doubt that were they here today, they would be thanking you generously for having saved them from this control. But not only did you save them, but you helped to stop a plot of rebellion as well! For this, you have will be awarded this medal of valor, and furthermore, have the opportunity for a week long training section for position as a full Peacekeeper, allowing you to earn your licence to use traditional Peacekeeper tools. You will also be gifted a five free sessions at Fontem Hot Springs and Spa!" The speaker claps for a moment, expecting others to do so as well.

"And with Buddy Glass having had to take a permanent leave, for a time, we lost another Head Peacekeeper. A moment of silence please for the loss Hsiang Penny Jiao." The speaker looks solemn and serious in the quiet but the quiet doesn't last for very long. "However! We are very lucky, for today Quintus Falxvale, Tribute Tower Security Coordinator, has not only taken a stand in defending this great city and our resident guests, but he has accepted the role of our new Head Peacekeeper! Everyone give a hand! ...We would also like to award him this medal of valor, as well as pass this cheque and invitation from the household of Terentus in gratitude for the protection of their estate. I'm sure by now every offworlder must also be aware they owe their lives to you and to those individuals who worked alongside you to capture the rebel traitors. Fear not Tributes, you'll still have sir Falxvale looking over you, but so will all the rest of us. It is without question we'll all be getting much better sleep at night thanks to his dedication and service. We thank all for of you tonight for your work!" The speaker salutes the four. And with this, the speaker goes deathly serious, smile slipping away.

"Now we're sure you're all wondering what became of the criminals who threatened Panem's peace some weeks ago and whether or not they were brought to Justice. Thanks to Derek Souza, District four Mentor, we were able to swiftly identify a blood sample and apprehend the second culprit in time. Gallus Eddelier was arrested just a week after that of Nerium Volubilis. Charged with treason, theft of government owned documents, over seventy counts of attempted murder, and numerous other crimes, Gallus and Nerium were nevertheless deemed to have been operating their rogue operation solely on their own and not under any higher power. Those suspected of assisting these two terrorists are still at large, wanted for damage of government property, attempted murder, and treason. We have no doubt it will be only a matter of time before our loyal peacekeepers root out the rats. Although we were shocked that a scientist rescued from District three and an individual from this very city would conspire to plot against us, we will not halt the deliverance of Justice to those who would threaten our people and our peace!"

The speaker takes a step back, and a screen lights up behind the stage, high and wide enough for all to see. Upon a stage somewhere far from the crowning, Nerium Volubilis and Gallus Eddelier. Nerium's red hair seems to have dulled in color and even fallen out a little. Although she puts on a tough face, there's a visible tremble in her lip and her eyes are all too wide, darting wildly for escape. Gallus weeps openly, head bowed, a split in his lip. There are bruises covering them both. They seem to have trouble walking, but they don't have far. They are made to kneel in the middle of the stage, too far apart to reach one another and neither of them appears to want to try.

The guns trained on them both fire in unison. The screen blacks out and changes to the Capitol insignia.

A Peacekeeper coughs. Then grunts. Then makes a noise as though in pain the results in the Peacekeeper in the center of the ceremony doubling over into violent tremors that take the Peacekeeper to the ground. His head cracks hard upon the ground. The one next to him who'd been nursing a migraine shouts his name.

The others are already taking action. "EVERYBODY OUT!" The Peacekeepers call as they herd everyone into Cops and Robbers room.

However, even with the great commotion, those close to the fallen and kneeling Peacekeepers may hear her words; "Get up, Get up! This wasn't supposed to happen, oh god... those fucking offworlders... we'll get this fixed, just another little shot, oh god, please get up..."

The door closes on the guests, shutting off the view of the other room. Wide-eyed Peacekeepers restrain everyone from leaving. At least until EMTs arrive and the... mess is dealt with. Once done, everyone is quickly ordered back to the tower or back home. Curfew is instated for all of the Capitol until seven AM the next morning.

[allyorfoe]

Well, then. Tabris had been all but bored to tears during the ceremony, then watching warily as they pulled out the troublemakers in question. She was supposed to be angry at them, wasn't she? They tried to kill her. They got pretty damn close. Still, it's with a blank expression that she watches what seems to be a fairly routine, but showy, execution.

That is, of course, until all hell breaks loose.

She's small enough that she manages to dart around a few people to get a view of the fallen peacekeepers, but ultimately gets bustled off with everyone else. Still, her eyebrows are up, and she looks almost amused at how that particular little ceremony went. She calmly sips her drink, and she'd probably be shoveling popcorn in her mouth if she had any. All the same, she lets herself be herded off to the tower like a good little tribute.

Trust the Capitol to save the best entertainment for last.