thecapitol | The Crowning Of Tom Cassidy

The Crowning Of Tom Cassidy

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"But not you." For all he's spent half his life in traveling, and for all he expects - when he thinks on the matter at all, which is rarely - to spend the rest of his life in Panem, the idea of emigrating from one nation specifically to settle in another is foreign to Roland, and it may be clear that his curiosity has not faded. "Was travel from one nation to another so common there? How long did your journey take?"

He nods. "Nah. I was born in the states."

Living in the melting pot he does, the thought of mass immigration not being common is odd to him. Another quick nod--though it's familiar, he kind of likes talking about this stuff. "Really common--most people I know came from other countries." Actually, there were so many that the good old legislature was trying to limit how many people from other countries could enter. Thanks, xenophobia.

"I've heard it's about one week." He grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. "They say it feels like a lot longer in steerage, though, and that's all any of 'em can really afford."

"Steerage? I don't understand." He's sure that Firo will explain, though, and moves on quickly. "Your countries must be very close to one another. Unless you come from a place like this, with all their machines."

"Bottom of the boat, cheapest spot you can get even though it still takes pretty much all your money. Basically, they just toss people in the cargo hold."

"And no way. There's a huge--" He sets down his bottle to spread his arms out in his full wingspan. "--ocean between 'em. Used to take people months to cross it."

"There's not much close to the crazy stuff they've got here... but I guess it sounds like it might be closer than where you're from." He feels backwards enough as it is--he can't imagine what kind of place Roland's from if it's less advanced.

He watches Firo spread his arms, then thinks on it. "My world was host to a people like this - very like, I think - but the wheel's turned a time or two since then." Ah. A danger of being the only person in the conversation who's from his world. The cultural references. Time to clarify. "It's been a very long time. But you probably are closer, so far as machines go. When my grandfather crossed our own waters it was nearly a year before he returned. Captain Sparrow was telling me some while back about the boats in his world, the kinds of tactics he uses when he robs them - but I guess, depending on your world, that may not be as much of a problem there."

His mouth is already open to ask what the hell wheels have to do with anything, but then Roland explains. Firo blinks, wondering how technology can turn backwards; he's not well enough acquainted with history to understand the rises and falls.

"A whole year, huh? Jesus."

Firo grins at the mention of Jack. That man could certainly tell a tale and Firo believed every word. "I think his time is a bit before mine. For a while there, if you worried about anybody robbin' a boat, it was the feds robbin' you."

Well, if you were a rumrunner. But who the heck else would need a boat?

"Feds," Roland repeats curiously, going through his vocabulary to see if that might be a slang for something he knows. Not enough context. "I think there's a lot about your world I don't understand. Your feds are harriers? Pirates?"

He nearly chokes suppressing laughter as he imagines what Victor and Edward's faces would look like to hear themselves compared to pirates. "Nah, not at all. They're, uh... I guess you'd say the opposite a' that--at least, that's how they'd say it."

"They're about a step above the cops--police. They say they keep the peace and protect the innocent and all that."

Firo is skeptical. And, as may be obvious, more than a little biased.

Roland, who is fairly used to saying things which turn out so wrong that laughter is inevitable, waits patiently through Firo's. "Do they so?" he asks, looking a little interested. His crossed arms slide across the table as he leans forward. "And you doubt. Tell me about your feds. Having once sworn the same thing myself, I might be able to shed some light on whatever it is they do."

Firo blinks, his mouth hanging open for a moment. Sworn the same thing? But he likes Roland! And he supposes the guy will still be just as all right even if he's some otherworldly policeman, but that's just a bit of a difficult concept for Firo to grasp right now.

With somewhat less enthusiasm than a moment ago, Firo clears his throat and embarks on his explanation. "Well, there's basically two kinds. The ones who take bribes and joined up because they like bein' the big guy... and the ones who yammer about justice and the law until they're blue in the face--seriously, I've seen a guy nearly choke from yellin' about that stuff. Twice."

"There's a whole lot more a' the first one."

The reaction and subsequent dimming of Firo's manner would be impossible to miss. He does pay attention to the explanation, but now there's another matter that's more important. "Suppose I've been that latter a time or two."

He hesitates, thinking of another crowning and another conversation. It hadn't been clear, that time, whether he and the Signless would really speak to one another after, and there'd been very little either could do about it. Roland's sinking feeling now isn't as deep as it'd been back then, the situation isn't so bleak, but he thinks back and feels a little echo of all that, anyway. Maybe he should start keeping to himself during these things.

"Is that going to be a problem?" He looks straight into Firo's face as he asks, because of course it hadn't even occurred to him to avoid asking.

"You?" He tries to reconcile Victor's flushed face and impressive volume with the man before him. The huge contrast actually goes a little ways towards lightening his mood and he can't hide the twinge of a smile.

"I'm not lookin' to make any problems. As far as I know, you're not one a' the guys from my world, so..." He shrugs, groping for the words. So maybe Roland's different, is kind of what he's thinking, but that's the sort of thing he's afraid to say out loud. "...so if you've got no beef with my Family and I've got no beef with your specific kinda people..?"

He finally lifts his face all the way to meet that direct gaze, trying to disguise any hopefulness with a shrug.

Roland doesn't respond to Firo's little smile, but he watches it. He listens. He meets Firo's eyes, and thinks a second. "I don't know what sort of business your Family's dug itself into. Nothing the gunslingers of your world care for much, I think. But that's their work to do, and none of mine. There'll be no beef for either of us. If that should change you have my word I'll tell you. Now, depending on what you mean by my specific type of people, I think -"

He straightens, enough to offer a hand. It's his right, he realizes, but that should be alright. He'll only have to try not to move those two wooden fingers much, so he doesn't squeeze harder than he means to. "- we're at peace, you and I? We're beefless?"

Firo manages not to snort at what he's sure was meant to be a solemn offer. And possible slang barrier aside, it does mean something. He nods and returns the shake--his grip, by contrast, probably just a bit too overzealous. "Yeah, beefless. Actually, I'd say you're still fine in my book."

As much as he knows that he usually kind of deserves it... It is nice to meet a lawman who doesn't start screaming at him and calling him criminal scum as soon as their opposing allegiances come to light. It's enough to keep Firo's existing prejudices about people on that side of the law from worrying the good impression he's already formed of the man.

Besides, Firo supposes there are always exceptions.

"I'm glad to hear it," he says, and it's more than polite words. There's a relief in Roland's voice that wasn't there before, an easing in his posture as he lets go of Firo's hand. "A friend is a rare find anywhere, but here especially it's a hard thing to lose one. What is it that's made you feel so about your- ah, your feds? Is it something more than the normal wariness of one who makes his work doing things he maybe oughtn't?"

It's striking to him that Roland would actually say those things about friendship out loud. Firo doesn't doubt that he means them, but he also doesn't think that the kind of person who can and will be honest about feelings is all that common. Much as the sentiments make him smile and nod in honest agreement, they also make him boggle.

The question is something of a surprise too, as he's used to having concerns of this sort dismissed by law abiding folk. Once people wise up to what he is, no one really wants to hear a gangster's tirade against law enforcement--fair enough, considering Firo hardly bothers to give them a fair trial. He shifts his weight as he thinks a moment. "...Some of it's personal, I guess. A cop I've known since I was a kid just joined up with 'em and he still has to bother me every chance he gets."

"And I had a run-in with some of 'em right before I came here. They threatened a friend a' mine for stuff that didn't even have anything to do with her. And they were assholes besides."

That last bit, the harassment, does not sound so odd to Roland, nor really out of line with a gunslinger's normal duties, so long as there's some useful fact or necessary effect to be had from doing it. Roland himself has done much worse, and thought nothing of it. The actions of those men do not really sound evil to him, nor necessarily very irresponsible.

Facts of emotion, of friendship and love, those Roland will share easily. Some other facts, though - there are some facts that people like Firo simply do not need to hear.

"That's fair," he says instead of sharing his observations, because it is. Why wouldn't Firo resent someone who'd threatened a friend? "Which kind were they? The kind who speaks of justice, or the one comes looking for bribes? You said your world has plenty of that latter."

Firo nods; it sounds fair to him, definitely. "The justice ones. I was serious about the guy chokin' himself twice in one speech, you know." He sighs, wondering if he's picking up on where this line of questioning is going. "Which, yeah, I guess they're down a rung on the scum ladder, but it doesn't mean they're great people. Just creeps in different ways."

Personally, Firo doesn't really enjoy being accused of using sexual favors to get to his position. Especially with such stunning regularity. That's not exactly evidence he wants to share, though, so he hesitates as he reaches for something a little less humiliating.

He waves his hand. "...Like I said, you've gotta be a bastard to threaten to threaten a woman like that. They said they couldn't go through the normal channels since she 'doesn't exist in the eyes of the law' or some shit, so they'd just do whatever the hell they wanted."

"Power sits on some men that way." Since that tense moment of worry about their relationship has come and passed, Roland reaches for one of the bottles sitting on the table. Though arenas have taught him not to trust much of the food he's given here, the idea of drinking a beer sounds a little nicer than it had before that aforementioned tense moment and there is only so long a person can go being oversuspicious of everything he's given.

He inspects the engraving on the bottle, then twists the cap open and sniffs at whatever's inside. "Makes them forget why they gained it in the first place. That said, threats are sometimes necessary, aren't they? So long as you use your good judgement about when to follow through. Don't know how you spent your days back home, but if even some of them were spent working in a gambling house as I suspect, you must've threatened a time or two yourself."

There's the faintest hint of a wistful smirk at the mention of his job; it vanishes when he answers. "Well, yeah I did." He says it without a hint of shame, only a cagey shrug. He doesn't like when he can't railroad an argument home and actually has to think about things. "But I'd never threaten a lady like that--only people who need it."

Meaning people who go against the Family, though admittedly there isn't always time for threats there. You go straight for the throat. That's understandable, right?

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "I won't say she had nothin' to do with him, 'cause that'd be a lie. But she didn't have anything to do with what he and his guys really wanted--they just used her." And used her against him, which, admittedly, makes it smart all the more. He doesn't want to be so weak where he can be manipulated like that. And he doesn't want to be the cause of his friends' suffering.

"And you've never needed to threaten a lady." Roland nods knowingly. "I see." But he moves right on past that, not terribly interested in dwelling on it. He's not interested in defending the actions of the men Firo'd met, after all, only in calling out what may or may not be self-deception in Firo's reasoning.

"Your feds sound clever. I've found many gunslingers from different worlds tend to be similar, in one manner or another. Maybe even the peacekeepers of this world, in their way." But, unless Roland is careful, that line of discussion might lead somewhere they ought not be talking about. Rather than continue down it, Roland decides to take a drink. It's good, of course. The drinks - along with everything else in Panem - may be showy and weird, but they're never anything less than well made.

That there's a slightly different implication in emphasizing the fact that Firo's never needed to do something he claims to be innocent of takes a while to register. He just stares blankly until then, finally nodding and shifting his feet uncomfortably. He can't claim that he wouldn't if he were ordered too--he would. So it is a matter of having the luxury to never need to do such a thing, rather than him having the high ground.

God, this is not going the way he planned at all.

Firo snorts at the compliment to the feds, though not without the hint of a self-deprecating smile. "Or I'm just dumb." Yes, he would rather take a hit than let them get a compliment. It's partially due to that and his genuine conviction that a lot of what happened was owed to his screw up.

He sips his own drink, then flicks his eyes back up to Roland's. "Is that how you and your guys operate, then?" His tone is merely curious.

It would be an exaggeration to say that calling Firo out off his high ground is going the way he'd planned it since Roland rarely makes such concrete plans, especially for so little cause. But it isn't going badly and Roland watches Firo's uncomfortable shifting without surprise. Without satisfaction, either, although there is something close to it. Firo'd heard what Roland had meant, and reacted as he should've. Seeing that, Roland is content to move the conversation forward.

And then, of course, Roland takes a moment to think over the question. It isn't one that can or ought to be answered quickly. "If you asked a child of old Gilead, maybe not. But anyone else, aye. It can be." Then a strange thought strikes him, strange because he still is not used to thinking it. There is more than one person, now, who can answer questions about gunslingers.

"If you found Alain-" And here Roland straightens briefly, looks around over the crowd, and sees no familiar blonde head within it, at least not the one he's thinking of. Well, wasn't too likely that Alain'd be so conveniently close just now, anyway. "One of my fellows in my youth, and probably around here somewhere. Suppose he might tell you differently, too. I don't know. What I do know is that no man is so faultless as he claims to be. Not even a gunslinger. Although I suppose you can't be blamed for holding it against us. I don't know much about your Family or their work, but I think only one of us is promised to uphold certain principles in doing it."

When Roland refers to other people disagreeing, Firo imagines he means discontented crooks he's captured and dealt with. He doesn't expect to hear a comrade--or is it former comrade, with the way he says it?--listed among them too. "Alain." He repeats, both to register the name and his memory and to let Roland know he's paying attention.

While there are some people Firo is tempted to think of as flawless, he has to nod at the remark on faultlessness.

The last remark, innocuous as it may be, makes Firo's back straighten and the corners of his mouth curve down. "We've got principles. Everybody swears an oath when he starts out and you swear to even more if you get promoted."

Strange as it may seem, Firo thinks that running with the gangsters is likely the only reason why he has anything resembling morals today.

Perhaps it's a good thing Alain can't be found just now. If his old friend thought Roland was claiming gunslingers have no honor - well of course he wouldn't be angry. Not Alain. But Roland is beginning to tire of seeing him look so disappointed.

Nevermind that now. The conversation's moved on. "Oh?" Though Roland does doubt those oaths Firo speaks of are anything like the ones a gunslinger agrees to uphold, his tone itself is not doubtful. He isn't trying to provoke anything, just interested. "And what kinds of oaths are those? What do you swear to?"

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"Beefless" cracked me up

hey maybe beefless is an ancient and dignified term in RolandLand. It totally is.

Of course, of course! Forgive me, I forget some of these things given his rich command of slang

totally understandable, not everyone realizes how suave roland is

Too smooth for plebeians to even realize he's smooth?

exactly, it's top secret smoothness

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