The Crowning of Cullen Rutherford

[etcircenses]

Who| Everyone who's anyone.
What| The Crowning of Cullen Rutherford.
Where| The new Rutherford Castle.
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| Please warn appropriately in headers.

The crowning ceremony takes place in an approximation of Skyhold, a large fortress with a castle with a sweeping main hall, gardens, and two levels of courtyard. Flags and banners hang everywhere, some with heraldry of the Inquisition, some with the heraldry of the Templar Order, a nod to Cullen's old days as a Templar. And of course, just as prominent everywhere you look is the seal of the Capitol. Just in case anyone forgot where they were.

The medieval fashion (or as close of approximation to medieval as the Capitol as gotten) that had come in with the 13th arena is back in full swing. There's plenty of fake armor to be seen, and foam swords resting on Capitolite hips. Sweeping ballgowns can be spotted as well, and a few more savvy people seem to have come dressed in a strange red and gold uniform. The avoxes do their best to blend in to the environment with drab brown peasant outfits.

In the main hall, tables filled with medieval food have been set up on both sides of the walls, filled with approximations of medieval food--As far as the Capitolites are concerned, that means normal food, but with a tendency for venison and large turkey legs. There are even dainty little cakes for dessert. Along the walls, above the food tables, hang multiple pictures. Featuring in this galley are every native of Thedas that had come to Panem at one point or another, all of them dressed in dour blacks of funeral wear, save the four remaining Thedasians. But of course, there are plenty of pictures of the Victor, starting with Cullen has a chubby blond child, going into him as an awkward young Templar (there's even a picture of him talking to a woman that the title identifies as Warden Amell), going through unfortunate hair cuts, and of course, various pictures of him in Panem, capturing a variety of touching and painful moments.

It all culminates when you get to the end of the hall, where there rests a massive throne just for Cullen. And behind it, the largest picture of them all, a massive portrait of Cullen. Adella stands next to him, holding an infant in her arms. Maxwell and Tabris are, for some reason, also featured in this family portrait, and you have to wonder if the artist in question didn't perhaps ship the ever popular Maxullen, because Maxwell's hand was looking awfully chummy on Cullen's shoulder.

The bottom courtyard has been set up with stalls, where you can buy foam swords and shields, little mabari plushes, and even a lion helmet. There's also little wedding toppers, shaped just like Cullen and Adella, and framed pictures of most of the art that hangs in the main hall. The nearby stables have been stocked with a variety of mounts, from the standard horses to more exotic harts, a strange dragon-like creature, and...no one is really sure what this is, but it...looks interesting?

In the upper courtyard, there's the Herald's Rest, a real, rustic tavern, with a woman playing a guitar and singing various songs. All the songs seem to revolve around how great the Capitol is, which kind of offsets the mood, but it's the thought that counts, right? It doesn't help that the bar has been outfitted to serve all kinds of modern drinks, but who wants plain ale, anyway? Outside of the tavern is a practice ring, where people can put to use their fake swords and shields, either trying to maul each other, or a target. Several peacekeepers offset the aesthetic feel in uncompromising white, carefully watching all participants to make sure that everyone is playing nicely.

If everything is just a little too busy for you, the garden is left in quiet peace. A woman dressed in red and white robes will occasionally begin speaking, extolling the virtues of the Capitol, and President Snow in a lengthy monologue.

There are a few actors wandering around, appearing as various people who have made an impact on Cullen's life. There's the mysterious Warden Amell, a man in full armor, and a woman dressed similarly. These two will wander around, swords in hand, ready to smack anyone with foam swords and accuse them of being blood mages. One actress is dressed like a certain Marian Hawke who had at one time been a tribute. She darts around the fortress, stopping people and regaling them with highly exaggerated tales of things that Cullen has supposedly done. There's even a few creatures running around that people may recognize from the last arena, such as the tastefully almost-nude desire demon that will occasionally try to sidle up to people--usually to be driven off by one of the people in armor.

There's one more addition to the party--dogs! A very specific kind of dog. Several dogs simply wander around Skyhold, trying to steal people's food and begging for attention. Next to the throne are four particularly handsome ones, each one with a collar baring the name of one of the four Thedasians left.

If wandering around Skyhold and competing with swords leaves you dry-mouthed, you're in luck! Dotted around the area are fountains that all pour a strange, bright blue punch. Listen closely, because the fountain seems to be humming a strange tune. If you have a careful eye, you might even find the one that has red punch pouring out if it, humming an oddly sinister tune.

Well, what harm could there be in going ahead and trying it out anyway?

Comments

Victor's Speech!

[etcircenses]

[revocation]

For all the familiarity of the current surroundings, Cullen looks about as uncomfortable as he ever does. It's nothing personal, really: he is never comfortable being the center of attention. Give him training drills to run, or an army to lead, and he's fine, but send him to a party where he's expected to give a speech in front of hundreds of people and he would almost rather be facing down Corypheus.

The only mildly pleasant thing about this party is the dogs, really, and he's already taken quite the shine to the one with his name on his collar. He's not sure how the Capitol managed to get their hands on purebred Mabari, but he's sincerely hoping he can take at least this one home with him. He deserves a good home, regardless of where he came from or how he was acquired. The rest of the party is varying stages of galling, from the portraits to the actors portraying Meredith of all people, to the bloody Nuggalope in the stables and the lyrium fountains everywhere, which Cullen pointedly avoids. Damn them, anyway.

It's possible his stylist took pity on him for this crowning, for tonight Cullen is wearing more or less the armor he had at home - albeit polished to a perfect shine. And the fur on his surcoat - well, it's not so much a surcoat anymore as it is a full-blown mantle, the fur cascading over his shoulders and down his back as he makes his way to the absurd throne (really, that's Adella's throne, the one she sits in to pass judgment, he's not a throne-sitter, he's a soldier for Andraste's sake), and he can't help but glance around trying to spot Adella as the room falls into a hush, everyone waiting with bated breath for his speech, it seems.

At least he's had time to practice it.

"I'm sure you're all surprised at this outcome," he starts, his mouth twisting a little into a wry sort of look. "I can assure you, I'm more surprised than anyone. I'm also sure there are many who don't think I deserve such an honor, that I'm not worthy. Well, I agree with that, too." Maybe, just maybe, there's a subtle hint of sarcasm behind those words - worthy of being a ruthless killer, worthy of being the sole survivor - it's not the first time he's found hismelf the last one standing, and he doesn't feel any more victorious now than he did all those years ago, after watching his comrades be tortured and murdered. And he certainly doesn't feel worthy.

"But I suppose that's part of the point, isn't it?" he continues after a brief pause. "Certainly, there is skill, and many of us have that skill. But there is always an element of luck, as we are so often reminded. I've had more than my share of luck, good and bad, and it seems the odds were in my favor once again. But I didn't do it alone, despite all that. I couldn't have done any of this, found myself in this position, without a lot of help. Not only the help of my friends and loved ones -" And here he nods in the direction of his fellow Thedosians, Maxwell, Tabris, Adella. "But also with the gracious assistance of many Capitol citizens and businesses, who have supported me through this journey and helped nudge the odds in my favor, both in the arena and out of it."

Perhaps that last bit isn't quite as sincere as the rest, but he says it easily enough, and many present and watching will know to what he refers - it's not like anyone is unaware of his engagement, of the very public proposal and the ongoing wedding plans, as well as exactly who has been sponsoring it, given all the publicity Cullen has been doing lately.

"Anyway, thank you all, and I hope you enjoy the festivities," he ends. Keeping it short and sweet is the order of the evening. The less time he has the eyes of the entire room, the better. He's done the worst of his duty, and now hopefully he can slip out early for some much-needed rest. Yeah, right.

Mingle

[etcircenses]

Meulin Leijon | OTA

[furgood]

It's her third crowning in the Capitol, yet every time they seem to outdo themselves. Or perhaps Meulin just sees it with new eyes, new wonder. Certainly, her outfit is new because when she had tried to wear that pretty green thing from the ball, she'd been summarily overruled. A pity, but she felt lovely in this odd combination of metal and flowing fabric. It felt almost like something they'd worn in the Tribute Parades. Yet, it's really not important in the face of the party. The building is beautiful, the hall lavish and filled with all sorts of food. She sneakily piles a half dozen tiny cakes onto her plate. A balanced diet is not what she's going for tonight. She nibbles a few as she watches the room for people she knows. Maybe by the point she finds them, she'll have eaten a few of these.

Eventually, she wanders through the garden. The pretty trees are in the shocking shades of fall and she pulls down a leaf to twirl in her fingertips. These events get easier as time goes on but the relative seclusion of the garden, illusory or otherwise, is nice.

Towards the end of the night, she moves to the mock sword fighting, a glass of something bright green from the tavern cradled in both hands. She takes a sip, makes a face, but doesn't discard it quite yet. That would mean missing something here and it's too funny to watch. It wasn't nearly as entertaining as the joust had been, but it's still amusing in a strange make believe sort of way. The combatants trip over each other, whack each other with swords too hard or hardly at all. There hardly seems to be an in between.

She turns, grinning, to those nearby and tilts her head in the direction of the ring.

"Going to give it a try?"

Leonidas Cora - OTA

[lionhearted_victor]

...To say that Leonidas is surprised that one, his District won, two, that it was Cullen who pulled through. Though he owed China Sorrows two thousand assi, he couldn't care less, the man was officially on cloud nine. His District finally, finally won an Arena and it felt so good. It felt like the old days, when District Two brought in the winners just as often as One and Four did.

Dressed in strange but intricate armor, made of lightweight steel and lined with the fur of a lion, Cora is receiving congratulatory words from sponsors and Capitolites alike. Sometimes he's humble enough to give credit where credit is due: Cullen survived on his own merits and District 2 is thankful for this win.

The rest of the time, he's admiring the Arena, watching his Tributes fight along and rack up the kills. It's a good day to be alive, and he might be found in the ring destroying a target or at the Herald's Rest.

Phil Gray - Open!

[voiceinthephone]

Though this would be Phone Guy's fourth Crowning, this is his first as a Mentor representing District Six. He knows that this event is a celebration meant only for the Capitolites, to live vicariously and pretend they're in the Victor's world of origin. A way to rub into the losing Tributes' faces almost as their mandatory nature seems to evoke.

Phil's outfit, a magnificent red ensemble complete with a hat, seemed to have been inspired by not just Foxy the Pirate, but his pet as well. He carried himself with the weight and professionalism fitting a graceful losing District and a man who has added two more children to his grieving. When approached, his double hellos are on his tongue and his smile is present. "Hello-hello!"

Nugdogs are the only things that break that sort of reverence and he finds himself doting on any animal that comes along. He loves canines so much, if Foxy, Alby and Lady are any proof that he's good with. "Who's a big alien baby," he teases as he rubbed their bellies and fed them food. Let him have this okay? Other times he's at the Herald's Rest, drinking himself to a light buzz and nothing more. As he promised Linden, he would keep himself out of trouble and that meant no getting plastered in public.

Augustus Sinclair - Open

[whittlingnickels]

Crownings were not usually Sinclair's sort of event but he was a sponsor after all, and he represented the interests of a lot of Capitolites. He figured as much that Temple's promises were as hollow as she was and now this business of Compson stealing his money just irked him in every way. In a way, Augustus was satisfied with the outcomes of the Arena, Gowan Stevens still had to pay for his wife's mistakes and Jason had to stew in his own misery for a while longer. Sinclair wins and that's how things should always be, at least in his entitled way of life.

Nina did such a wonderful job at dressing her boss up in luxurious threads fitting a nobleman, she got a raise for her troubles. Augustus is here to celebrate and mingle with both Tribute and staff alike, now looking a new investment opportunity. Money coming, money going, it's the one thing that mattered. Anyone who approaches him will get a smooth "Charmed," he doesn't like to waste time.

James Sunderland | Open

[inrestlessdreams]

This was one Arena James REALLY wanted to sit out. He still had nightmares about the way Ermac finished him off in the Arena and he wasn't keen on watching it over and over again. Come on, that was torture enough!

At least the District 3 stylist took pity on him this time around and dressed him into what he thought was a mage's outfit. It wasn't a coincidence that Vivi's strange ways influence the designs and for once, Sunderland didn't complain about it. His only issue had been what the Stylist replaced the staff with. Shoved into his hands was a harmless replica of the Great Knife...was the blood splatter really necessary? This is the blade that impaled Maria and that was screwed up.

He's found in the Herald's Rest, downing the third glass of bourbon and avoiding the Arena screens as best he could. "Oh God, I felt all that...goddammit, I'm gonna need more therapy after this," he groaned into his drink and kept his head down. The man is not a happy camper.

Ellis | Open

[shiftingurbulls]

Boy howdy now THIS was a medieval Crowning that needed no introduction. Ellis was the eternal optimist in all this and he was so glad he was able to keep something from the Wild West in his outfit (though it felt more like Texas than his state, small victories). He was damn happy with himself and having survived as long as he did in the Arena! In his eyes, that was almost as good as winning. Hell, he'll show off his skills in the mini ring and wailing on the targets or anyone who wants to scuffle! "Come on, let's get medieval up in here!" Please feel free to smack him for that one.

But it's not without losses as Ellis noted that certain people haven't come back, most importantly Nick the dick, Luke and Rochelle. If by now, they had not returned, then the mechanic had no choice but consider them permanently dead. The only way this peeks through is through the quieter moments, when Ellis is enjoying a meal, or drinking the available selection.

Dogs on the other hand, are a delight and there is a high chance he's running with them (at appropriate speeds, don't worry) with a few of them, letting them chase a slab of meat. What is a Southern man without his dog after all?

Quintus Falxvale | OTA

[lex_paciferat]

For once, Quintus isn't attending a crowning as part of a security detail--he's been briefed on the setup of the party and the official announcement to come, but dealing with troublemakers here is now a bit below his pay grade. He's out of uniform, devoid of his medals and shirking the theme with a plain black suit--though at the suggestion of his more Games-savvy secretary he's wearing a red and gold tie. His outfit is clean and unwrinkled, but there's still a vaguely unkempt air to him, a fidgety quality evident in the way he holds his glass and checks his phone, as though he's running on a considerable amount of caffeine.

He spends some time in the tavern, makes some small talk with the peacekeepers on duty, and after snagging some vension finds himself of interest to one of the dogs. Smiling a little, he feeds it a scrap and pets its head, trying to recall what Tabris called it--a malari? Mabari, that was it. Looks like she got her dogs, even though she didn't get her crowning.

Psiioniic || Open

[biiowiired]

A: stupid mask

This was one of the less painful Crownings; anything was better than a model Drone or helmstroll station. However, Psii entered the party feeling miserable and trying to keep to himself. Psii's golden half armor and (dress? robe? probably dress) was surprisingly comfortable, despite its length. That was a mercy after two weeks of literal insanity in the arena, his mind ripped into paranoid tatters by the mask's effects. He knew now that was what caused it. A soon as he was left to his own devices, he whipped off a delicate half mask that came with his outfit and "accidentally" dropped it into the red fountain.

Hopefully there weren't any dumbasses stupid enough to fish it out and hand it back to him. His internal screaming might just become reality. His mind was healed physically from the influence of the arena's mask, but the memories of last week were still raw. He was not at his best, and everyone saw it.

B: the party don't start till i get drunk and set something on fire

Psii gravitated towards The Herald's Rest and its irresponsibility beverages. His instinct was to drown his sorrows and forget his last drawn-out days spent frothing at the mouth about imagined attacks. His original timeline self—the Helmsman—died alone and insane, too. These things were due to no fault of his, but he felt like shit for it anyway.

Psii had a habit bordering on honored tradition, whenever the Capitol or even a friend put on a high-profile event. It involved reminiscing about the dearly departed, contemplating the current shitty state of affairs, and arson. The stuffed animals in the lower courtyard were fair game. He fished out some cigarettes he'd stolen from Signless (he didn't smoke) and began pestering people for a light.

"Doethn't anyone have a fire-thtarting devithe in thith goddamn bar?" he slurred drunkenly. If anyone could understand him through the alcohol and his lisp, it would be a miracle.

Altair | open

[theflyingone]

Tavern

Altaïr expected to be crammed into uncomfortable knight armor like the parade, so he was surprised when white robes and leather boots were waiting for him—his own, or rather, the stylist's closest approximation to them. Gone were his knife slots, and the fabric was of higher quality and embroidered more richly.

There was still room for his traitor's cuff to show.

These clothes were a grand joke, surely someone with money or power poking fun at him. Look how far he's come: not far at all, and he fits right in with us. Stepping into his past, he felt like a white ghost entering the party's decadence. The last time he wore robes like this, he was consumed with indignity at his demotion and determined to prove Al Mualim wrong.

Now Altaïr didn't know what he wanted. His rank meant nothing here. He had only his shaky hold on the Creed, which he had violated anyway. He was an agent of violence, yet the peace he claimed to fight for slipped further from him. He was taught to fight for freedom, yet also to follow the Creed and its restrictions. He refused to join the majority's blind faith in the Panem government, yet he had been so fervently, blindly sure of the Assassins' cause. And then there was that inkling of something being terribly wrong with him, a hesitation he did not have before he was arrested. It stemmed from his memories of incarceration, which were fuzzy at best, and he didn't like it.

Even so, holding to the Creed when that man Alain confronted him seemed to have worked in the arena. Altaïr had insisted that killing indiscriminately, like he had once done, was foolish. Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. In the arena, things were stark enough to be black and white. Here among perfumed guests and subtle whispers, the right thing to do was more obscure. Altaïr wasn't sure if his small list of potential targets (Quintus, Sigma, Plutarch) was viable, and he did not have the freedom to find out.

If he could not act or speak without repercussions, he would listen. The tavern was a good place for sharp ears to catch loose tongues. He blended in well with a barely-touched pint in hand; half in the shadows, seen but unseen, merely part of the background. What a loser.

Stables

Altaïr allowed himself a bit of respite and made a beeline for the stables. He quickly befriended a horse, petting her and murmuring nonsense in his native Arabic that got mangled in translation. A rare smile played on his lips. These people could have their metal caravans and flying ships; a horse was still the most silent all-terrain vehicle there was, and all it needed was a little water and grass.

He mourned the probable fact that Tributes might not be allowed to ride anything here. Too much chance of running someone over or attempting escape. Grand theft horse was tempting, though.

When he peeked in the next stall, his eyebrows flew up.

"What manner of creature is this?" he murmured to himself. And, more importantly, could he ride it?

Maxwell Trevean| OTA

[dreadinquisitor]

It was all there.

His quarters, high in the Tower, the balcony open over the courtyard - from that distance, the Capitolites might have been members of the Inquisition... if not for the fountains, punch sparkling in the moonlight. The furnishings were off, but perhaps they'd been modeled for Adella - it would have been her room too.

Varric's seat by the fire in the Hall, Solas' study - complete with fresco. Dorian's nook, in the library, the books stacked by the chair, candles lit with their flames waving gently.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Maxwell could almost hear him again: critiquing the books, sassing down at Solas... He could almost feel his lips again, soft and warm against his own.

Sandy Marko OTA

[justoutrunyou]

Sandy sighs as the hustle and bustle of the crowning passes around her. She feels like she's been in a fog ever since waking up from her most recent death at the hands of The Batter.

She's clad in a cute green tunic and shorts today, with her hair died green and some prosthetic ears. "Forest fairy" someone had said and only then did she realize that two small projectors were sewn into the back of her tunic and were creating an illusion of glistening gossamer wings that fluttered behind her whenever she moved. When she was sat still they gently waved open and closed.

Very pretty. She almost cared.

Something about this arena had taken a lot out of her. Maybe it was limping around as a half burnt wreck for the majority of it, or maybe it was being insane for the last two weeks. But seeing herself on camera later betraying Ermac after he'd risked his life to save her had added a layer to the guilt.

Even knowing she had some money in her account from killing Jeremy and Batter didn't help. She had squirreled herself away in her room and done whatever she could to avoid the people she knew she should talk to. But no one is exempt from the crownings.

And so here she sits, slumped at a table in the upper courtyard, surrounded by drinks made of juice and soda and ice cream. Some empty plates that once held cakes are stacked up nearby too. The rush of sugar is keeping her awake at least.

But she can't help but pout every time a new song starts up about how great the Capitol is. Quietly she wonders if she could get shot for throwing one of her empty glasses at the singer.

Ruffnut Thorston OTA

[ruffntumblenut]

Ruffnut had been in a foul mood before the crowning, because someone finally pointed out to her that her teacher had been removed from duty while she was in the arena. As much as she didn't care for the more academic aspects of school, she had grown fond of Ms. Scarlet.

But what else could be done? It's not like she knew who was in charge of making that choice and even if she did, she couldn't punch them into changing it. Even as a Junior Peacekeeper she barely had any rights when it came to the rights of Capitol citizens.

And so she had come to the crowing expecting to hate it...but despite herself it felt enough like home that she relaxed. Drank some dranks, even did a bit of dancing to the stupid songs about the Capitol. She tried to lead a few songs of her own but Ruffnut is unfortunately, painfully tonedeaf and she was quickly shouted down.

After she'd had her fill of that she made her way down to the stables and took great pleasure in petting the creatures once she was assured they wouldn't try to bite her. She'd had her fill of dragons this arena but whatever that squishy looking things with horns was? She wanted one!

"Who's a stupid looking cutie? You are!" She cooed in a way that would embarrass her if anyone noticed.

Finally the chance to wail on other people with foam swords proved too tempting and she threw herself with perhaps a bit too much gusto into the psudo combat. As it turns out headbutting is frowned upon and she only got to fight in a few matches before they took away her foam weapons and told her to go ruin someone else's evening.

"Sorry about your face!" She lied to whomever was her final victim. She was wearing leather and furs which made her happy enough, and seemed to continue to play into what Jason had tried to build as her style for the sponsors. No helmet though, she still couldn't be trusted with a pointy metal helmet clearly.

Ermac | OTA

[glowygreendeath]

Ermac didn't care for his outfit: https://images.plurk.com/2THPIdzTCJNEPlPiXV7U6m.jpg.

But, he had to mingle. It was mandatory. His handlers had been insistent on it. The warrior can be found in and around the Tavern, either taking on opponents in the practice ring, or skulking in the shadows of the Tavern with a drink in hand.

Luna | Open

[didnothing]

Luna's at once glad that the job she's picked up has gotten her some pay since she came back from the Arena and regretful that she can't just go back to work. Going to parties and wearing beautiful new clothes has always been a dream of hers, but not in something as big and public as this crowning. Still, it's expected (and mandatory) to attend so it isn't as if she has much choice in the matter. So she tries to pick out something pretty but not too conspicuous, hoping it's allowed to keep her bluebird pendant on as usual - it's not coming off until the next Arena if she can help it.

The weight helps calm her nerves when she enters the castle, and before she starts looking around for familiar faces she stops to get a little food and drink first. She makes the mistake of leaving a plate on a low table while she goes to retrieve some water, and when she comes back there's a dog sniffling at her food. "Oh, no!" By the time she's reached the table, the dog's already taken a bite out of the venison. So much for dinner, at least for the moment...

Luna gets her first taste of alcohol later on at the tavern, and she can't help but make a face when she does. It isn't exactly what she expected, but it sure is...something. She knows alcohol is pretty popular in some sense, but beyond the technical effects she hasn't yet grasped exactly why that is. The next few minutes, then, are spent alternately taking little sips of her drink and staring at it curiously. What is it about this stuff that people like so much?

By mid-evening she's discovered the mystery of the humming fountains, and even the peculiar red-punch fountain with a different tune than the others. Luna isn't so impulsive as to try drinking from either right away (even though surely they wouldn't put anything dangerous in the crowning refreshments?), but experience from the Nonary Game sticks with a person along with general curiosity - chances are there's something particular about the setup. She retrieves a pair of cups from the tavern, and to start with gingerly dips one cup into the red fountain and mentally braces herself in case of any surprises.

[allyorfoe]

What do you mean that Tabris didn't win? Someone evidently forgot to tell her, because the elf is strutting around like she owns this entire hold, and everyone here are visitors. This is some measure of just...feeling comfortable in her own skin again. She's in a strange castle, but a familiar setting, if you can ignore the weird bits and pieces of Panem they mixed in. She's dressed in her Warden armor, with a mabari at her side, and a foam sword at her side. It's not quite the same, but damn, it's close enough that she's starting to feel almost normal.

And it's clear that she belongs here, the way she walks around, hand on the sword handle, gaze turning to look over the guests. She's still sore that she lost, of course, but if someone had to win, it ought to be another Thedasian. Of course, the people dressed up as various characters get an eyeballing, but hey. It reminds her that perhaps she ought to be thankful she didn't win--You could bet that they would have gotten people in there that would be just as upsetting for her.

She does, however, try to at least take on some of Cullen's burden. Meredith is shooed away whenever she gets too close to Cullen, and any reporters find themselves with Tabris planted firmly in the way, answering questions with batted eyelashes and various methods of telling someone to fuck off. The mabari manages to expertly drool all over a particularly fussy capitolite's brand new slippers, and is rewarded with a large piece of beef.

She can be found at any part of Skyhold, slugging back drinks in Herald's Rest, smacking other people with her foam sword, and in particular, attempting to see if the Nuggalope could be ridden--only to have it start bucking, Tabris holding on to the reins in ungraceful dismay as it's calmed down by the handlers, the mabari watching the show calmly from the side.

Firo Prochainezo | ota

[foundafamily]

Bedecked in his medieval prince costume, Firo wanders the venue with little aim besides avoiding the demons and seeking out people he knows. He skirts the swordplay area with a snort and eventually stumbles upon one of the fountains.

He folds his arms and stares at it with a critical eye. If anybody's nearby, he'll turn to them and say, "You think this shit is edible..? I'm definitely not drunk enough to hallucinate that color or that noise."

The jazz age went a little wild with their drinks but not that wild.

Jeremy Fitzgerald; OTA

[leiche]

one: main hall

This is unpleasant.

Jeremy understands that the Capitol has to have these celebrations for their victors. He understands that they feel the need to go all out with said celebrations, with mandatory attendance for everyone and their grandmas from the looks of it. He just doesn't understand why he can't just leave after a total of two minutes standing around, looking awkward, and ridiculous.

At least it's keeping him warm. But that could also be the wine talking. Jeremy's figured, if he has to be surrounded by people constantly and have to indulge in random conversation, he has to be at least a little drunk to do it. But even then, his time in the grand hall is spent trying to avoid that very thing, keeping a wine bottle tucked under his arm as he ducked and dodged every person he could. Though not without incident, stumbling over his own feet every now and then, and bumping shoulders with several other party guests along the way.

"S-Sorry."


two: garden

This is a little better.

There's still a few ... odd folks roaming about, even odder creatures making the oddest advances towards anyone they come across. But Jeremy's found a small secluded patch of grass and trees, and a small unoccupied bench, and that's a perfect little hiding place for the time being.

His solitude didn't last too long - one of the dogs discovered him and bounded towards him, which was an initial cause for concern, but it turns out he just wanted someone to play with. A discarded plate of meat bones from the feast is left on the bench, and it turns out, that's a perfectly good toy for a few rounds of fetch.

It's a simple routine. Jeremy tosses a bone, the dog darts off and brings it back, the cycle continues. Maybe it's the fact that he's down to half a bottle of wine now, maybe it's because the dog's actually pretty cute and fun to watch bounding off into the trees and sniffing around for the bone, but whatever it is, it's one of the few times Jeremy finds he's actually enjoying himself.

But it's probably the wine.

Karkat Vantas | OTA

[crabmunicator]

He's doing better by the time of Crowning. Sorting things out and making amends with two of the people you murdered will do that.

Still, Karkat looks tired and a little distant as he wanders the party this time. He never met Cullen, never heard of him before this, and the theming reminds him of something crossed between Black Tom's Crowning and the medieval party he got sent along to during the 14th arena. It doesn't matter much when it still serves a break from other stresses.

His outfit seems to have split the different between those two celebrations, though: one with too much fabric, the other designed after a knight. He's a knight now, too, no escaping it, but his outfit spills over with dramatic slashed sleeves and draping brocade. The armor at least is personalized. Though looking a bit like metal from a distance, it's actually tough leather, dusted red along the edges of each 'plate' forming it. Embossed designs mimic the three drips of the blood aspect symbol along the shoulders and collar, while the front boasts a stylized depiction of his lusus. The last is in the small touches: red marks faking blood spattered against his cheek, and more stained into his hands. There's also a cuff encircling one horn, silver and ruby and engraved with swirling designs. Anyone who watched the arena might know it to be the horn Roland cracked in their fight, though the damage is gone following his revival.

He drifts from place to place during the festivities. Food is easy and there's plenty of it, and he has little reason to refuse the opportunity for something nice here. There are gardens to look at, animals in the stables he doesn't recognize and winds up staring at. At one point he has to push at one of the dogs wandering around, sternly telling it his stylist will have its head if it tries to eat his costume. At another, it's him fending off harmless blows from foam weapons as he tries to tell some armored actor that he's a Knight of Blood, not a mage, so stop smacking him! He only hovers around the red and blue fountains, though, not trusting to know what they're meant to be. The practice ring he avoids entirely.

Kousuke Nitou | OTA

[infinitemayonnaise]

Nitou, who is looking rather resplendent in gold armor that he can't seem to move too well in, isn't about to let that gold armor stop him from, well, moving around. He somehow manages to get himself out to the practice ring and gets a sword and shield in hand, even though the armor's restriction of his movement is probably not at all going to help him out here.

And now that he's got a sword, he is looking for a target. "Oi! You wanna go a few rounds!" He'll try to wave just about anyone over. Even though it looks like it would be remarkably easy to knock him over without really trying--his Stylists have really done a number on making sure he can't move around too well, thus messing up his outfit.

Torin Byrd | OTA

[bravelyplucked]

For once, Torin feels like he can relax at one of these Crownings. Cullen had secured the win for District Two, and maybe, just maybe, their regrettable losing streak was over. He's wearing a fancy medieval-style white suit, and he's spending most of his time just walking around and taking in the sights. He lingers a bit near the Arena but doesn't actually pick up a sword for himself, not unless anyone's foolish enough to challenge the man with one good arm and a slight limp.

He'll eventually get himself a bit of food, and, when he thinks no one is watching, starts slipping bits of it to those dogs that are wandering around.

Emily Finch | OTA

[conifer]

The last time there'd been a medieval themed ball, Emily had found herself utterly charmed, and today is no different. She moves around Skyhold in her gown and the necklace Temple had given her, a glass of the blue punch in one hand, affecting an air of confidence that doesn't quite become her, trying to balance herself somewhere between the Capitolites and the Mentors.

She spends a lot of time upstairs in the tavern, sipping her drink and listening to the bard's songs, trying to swallow down her distaste at the blatant pro-Capitol message, knowing that's her own future and knowing it's better than the alternative. She also finds herself drawn toward the variety of creatures in the stable, softly stroking her fingertips over the fur of a hart and wondering what it would be like to ride.

Mandatory Broadcast From--

[etcircenses]

[Mandatory viewing means that no communicator in the Capitol doesn't turn on to show this, even despite the evening hour. It means that the big beautiful picture of Cullen, Adella, Maxwell, and Tabris, changes for a moment to reflect the broadcast.

It is Snow who appears first, dressed in white and seated upon an ornate white throne. Moving music plays as he begins to speak.]

People of Panem, Guests and citizens alike. This last arena we were reminded of days of all our pasts. For years now we have observed our offworld Tributes engage in pageant that we as a nation promised for years to come so that we may never allow our history to be forgotten. Through the unity of the Districts, the guidance of the Capitol, we have known peace and kept the Dark Days behind us.

But we cannot forget that it is the people of this nation who brought us here. For this purpose, it was decreed that the people of this nation would once again compete. We honor this courage and this sacrifice, reminding us the costs of war and disobedience.

And so in keeping with the tradions, following this crowning, all Tributes will return to the Districts, speaking to those familes with Children reaped for these Games, just as we celebrate your survival. For the first time in the seventy fifth quater quell, we bring back to Panem, the Victory Tou--

[One second, the Capitol's regularly scheduled program plays, the next there's a flicker; not a visual one, but an audible one. The sound distorts and twists and snaps back to normal. A second later, it does it again and a word could almost be made out. The next time, the picture goes as well, bending and twisting and snapping and then nothing. Nothing but a voice, perhaps familiar to some, perhaps no one to others, but the message is crystal clear.]

This is a pirate transmission from District 13...with a message.

[The blackness cuts to two very familiar figures. Sam switches from sitting in the high branches of a tree to walking through a pine-filled forest and the dusty tunnels of a mine. Joan walks through a similar mineshaft when not seated in a chair at the base of a similar tree, both of them have a signature weapon nearby, just within reach and both have a carefully placed light behind them to make them almost glow.

They are strength.

The scene shifts, fading slowly into the same familiar conifers from before, this time a scrolling shot that ends in the perimeter fence. Sam stands on the District side, looking through it to the lush greenery.]

I’m not from District 12. Hell, I’m not even from Panem, and maybe a lot of you are thinking that none of us can understand what you’re going through. And you’re right - I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly where you’re coming from.

[He walks calmly, speaking as if to an assembled crowd just off camera, the fence at his back, stretching a long ways into the distance as the camera pans around to his side, the man striking a sympathetic profile.]

But I do know what it’s like being angry and scared.

[The scene fades neatly to Joan, walking up a dusty street with worn stone buildings on either side. Soot cakes the ground, turning the toes of her shoes dark until she comes to a halt, picking up Sam's thought where he left off.]

It's okay to be scared, it would be foolish not to be. But we can't let that keep us from doing what we need to do, for our sake, for the sake of our families, for the sake of people everywhere.

[She holds her arms outstretched, inviting and welcoming even insofar as she looks ready for battle, and Sam comes to stand by her.]

Remember that you're not alone.

[Joan's voice comes over images of unrest, stock footage of the Games, of executions, of Joan and Sherlock in the arena together, of Sam with Tony in another.]

There are people out there just like you, people who are terrified but who want to do the right thing, who want to fight. Find them. Join them. Become something greater, something stronger. Take on the terrifying together.

[Sam's voice sounds again over footage of off-world Tributes who had fought and died for District 12...]

I made a choice, a long time ago, back when I was a poor kid two seconds away from ending up dead in the street, that I was gonna put that anger and fear into something good. Into standing up for myself, and helping the people who couldn’t.

[...Of the children who died at the start of the last Arena...]

I’m just asking you to believe that you deserve better, that we all deserve better.

[...and those lost in the Arena itself.]

And to trust us to prove that that’s what we’re fighting for.

[As Sam's voice fades, a clearly recent short clip of Char plays. It's silent, and she looks worse for the wear after the Arena with her tear-streaked face, but she's alive.]

I’m just asking you to hope.

[The clip of Char cuts to black as Sam's sentence ends and a red District 13 emblem fades into view,bright and burning and a clear parralel to the Capitol's own emblem. The whole thing cuts out and the sound flickers once more before the previous program jolts back into place as though the last thirty seconds never happened.

There is a disbelieving quiet within the castle of the Crowning.]

[lex_paciferat]

[Quintus is standing amidst the other guests, watching Snow's broadcast--and knowing, this time, what the president is about to say. His mind wanders along to the logistics of the district visits, the additional security that'll have to accompany the groups, knowing what he knows. He would've liked for this to wait, given that they're still having a hell of a time trying to find those kids, but he understands the importance of having life proceed as usual in a time of--

And then he's on his phone and walking quickly out of the crowd, his voice tight.]

--If this is--why aren't they jamming it? Call the network--no, no, we don't have time for that. --I don't care if Snow's still talking, they know what frequency this is, jam the damn signal! That is an order!

[And then he's confronting a few of the shocked peacekeepers, pointing towards the back of the castle.]

Go cut the power right now! Go!

[But it's too late--Char appears onscreen, and Quintus feels his stomach drop. He stares, white-knuckled, and curses under his breath.

Oh, he is so getting some people fired over this.]