thecapitol | The Crowning of Cullen Rutherford

The Crowning of Cullen Rutherford

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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She keeps her face carefully frozen in its typical thin smile even as she notices Meulin's unusual lack of expression. What on earth could be going on there? Probably nothing, she's tempted to say, but it wouldn't do to dismiss something. It was at least a small thing to remember.

No, no you don't. That's all very useful stuff to know.

She shrugs as if embarrassed.

It keeps one moving. I don't suppose it's nearly as useful as other self-defense techniques, unless your opponent is scrupulous and very intent on keeping to proper form. I can't imagine that happens often outside of television, but it would be amusing, wouldn't it?

Excuse me for blathering. I could show you a little bit of what I know, if you'd like.

Meulin sails right on without any attention called to her odd lapse. She nods along to the first bit and shrugs in an exaggerated sort of way. Maybe this is a skill that requires form but it must be able to be adapted right?

"I'm sure you could use it outside of practice. Even having some basic ideas on what to do and where to put your feet and such are a world of help. Or at least that's what I've read," she says, then contemplates the question.

"Meowbe a little? I have to learn by doing or having it all written out beforehand. Learned the hard way that my mediocre skill at reading lips drops to pretty much nonexistent when I'm trying to pay attention to other things as well."

That is reassuring to hear. Perhaps I haven't wasted my time.

She shakes her head.

No one can blame you for that. You'd be amazed how many people falter when they have to attend to one thing, let alone both lip-reading and a lesson.

With something like this, simply doing may be easier. If you won't feel strange with someone attempting to pose you.

Perhaps someone like Leo could describe the appropriate nuances required by the form, someone with much more expertise than her. For all that China fancies herself articulate, she figures this is the easier method.

Meulin shrugs, more at the first statement than the rest, but it works both ways. Whether the form is applicable outside of actual fencing is something she's only read about and for all the stock she puts in books, she knows they're not infallible. Her recollections of them are less so.

But the shrug answers the implied question, would she mind? Not really, and--to clarify, she says as much.

"Trust me, learning self defense involves a lot of posing and things too, don't worry," she says, setting her drink down on the nearest flat surface and tilting her head to the area, "At least I don't have to risk actually hurting you."

Hurting me? I didn't realize that was such a concern. Have I offended?

She laughs as she moves into the sparring area. She doesn't go too far, leaving them some distance away from the next pair over.

If you're ready, we can start on the stances.

Meulin reads while they walk, shaking her head immediately as she catches the misunderstanding. She exchanges it for one of the foam swords as she explains.

"No, no, I meant that learning with Derek usually involves explaining how to do moves and trying them out--and sometimes they hit. Or you miss and hit something else. I doubt I'll do any damage with a foam sword."

She swings it experimentally and stands there expectantly.

"So, stances."

Maybe one day when you're more skilled you will. But for now we can give thanks for small mercies.

She holds up a foam sword of her own before turning to face Meulin.

First stance

She then sets her notebook aside and assumes the position: feet together at the ankle, her foam sword pointed to the ground. It feels a little silly showing it with a child's weapon, but China's always been good at taking herself seriously.

Meulin inspects the edge of her squishy foam sword and privately doubts her skills would ever be advanced enough to injure someone with this. Maybe, one day, with creativity, but it works well enough as a practice weapon.

The first stance seems easy enough but she studies it for a moment, moving her feet into what seems like the right spot, glancing up a few more times as she adjusts herself.

When it seems right, she looks up for confirmation. There's a little tension, a hint of movement that makes it seem as if she's trying very hard not to bounce on her feet.

China nods, noting appreciatively how Meulin seems to be willing to work on her position even when this situation isn't so critical.

The salute is next, and she performs it slowly and deliberately. Her leading foot slides forward, while the other remains a shoulder-length away. She points the sword at her opponent, then brings it up in front of her own face.

Meulin really wants to bounce and dash ahead, but over time she's learned to take some cues from people. China is serious about it and it seems wrong to just brush it off when she's so diligent about it. The form is good practice either way, stretching and holding muscles. Her foot slides forward, not smoothly with her heels but she doesn't stumble so she can count that as a personal success. Maybe she should have pulled off her shoes before this.

Too late, because she has to pay attention to the way the sword raises and comes up. She mimics it clumsily, her free arm swinging as if unsure what to do with itself.

China carefully stares off into the distance as Meulin tries--not a bad attempt for someone new, she doesn't think, but she figures she'll give the lady the illusion of privacy simply for tact's sake.

She brings her free hand to her hip with a flourish. Mostly so Meulin will notice, partly just for show. Once again she raises the sword, then she smiles expectantly at the pupil.

Always attentive, Meulin copies the motion. Perhaps it has a little less flourish than China's own movements, but decisive nonetheless. There's a flicker of her gaze, as she mentally catalogues what China is doing and compares it to her own stance. Satisfied, she raises her sword as well, trying for serious but mostly looking amused.

"Very purrticular!"

“Too much so for your taste?”

Belatedly, she recalls what Meulin said about her lipreading abilities faltering when focusing on something else, so she lowers her sword and reaches for her notebook.

It is something of an art, but just worry about the essentials now. My teachers were always martinets, but we hardly need to be so strict.

Her concentration breaks when China's lips move and she jerks up to try to catch them. No such luck. But China remembers--much to Meulin's joy--and writes to her. So considerate.

"Essentials I can do. It's just so different from what I've learned before. Nothing so precise. Keep going though, I'm sure I can manage!"

There were times, buried in sponsor deals and meetings, when she almost regretted becoming an escort. But then there were times like these, interacting with people she may not have met otherwise, when she actually found herself enjoying it. Who would have thought that districters and off-worlders would be such a big part of that?

I appreciate an eager learner. Your attentiveness helps you a lot in your writing, I imagine? Your energy too.

She decides to have faith in Meulin, who’s given no reason to doubt her. So she sets the notebook down nearby again and performs the two moves—the stance and salute—in slow sequence, accentuating each separate motion.

Under the praise, Meulin practically glows. She does love learning new things, even if most of the time those things come encapsulated in books and with very little actual practice. All theory, none of the practical. Still, like swimming and breaking a hold, she suspects fencing is easier to understand when done than read. An easy laugh comes when she reads the last line.

"Energy only helps if you don't want to go out and do something. I prefer being outside if I can help it and tragically, they usually want me to write indoors."

She was already watching China for a reply, but instead, they begin again. Meulin's movements aren't nearly as smooth but they come together in order at least.

China smiles as Meulin describes the struggle, and then focuses to watch her movements. She picks up the pad again, pleased to respond. This isn't a strict lesson anyway, so why scrimp on the conversation?

Beautiful. Repeat it another thousand or so times and you may be a professional.

That was the minimum her trainers would settle for--she's sure her current instructor, Leo, would be even less merciful--but there's a joking smile on her face as she says it. She pauses, reflecting on Meulin's earlier words.

A pity that is. But what about the research that you do for all those columns? Do you not need energy to track your targets and chase them around the city?

Meulin grins. Of course, she's probably supposed to have a serious sort of expression for this particular sport, but China hardly seems to have a problem with it. It's a lesson conducted in Crowning gowns and with foam swords. And it's hard to help it when China writes back.

"Only a thousand? How lenient of you." Her shoulders and arm relax as she laughs and instead of staying at attention, she taps the sword against the ground. It bounces more than she'd suspected it might.

"Of course I do. But a lot of Tribute work is watching arenas. Unless they're back. And then it's trying to catch them in the lobby or at parties like this one. It's you Capitolites that I have to scour the city for."

It is, isn’t it? But I am known for my soft heart.

They do make something of an oddball tableau—what’s the harm in smiling about it? Better to own your weirdness.

Even for interesting creatures, it sounds like they’re fairly predictable for you.

As for us others, then perhaps you should thank us for keeping you moving and on your toes. One day you could be the speediest writer Panem has to offer.

Hopefully the best, or at least best-selling, as well.

A soft heart is all Meulin's seen of her. China's been thoughtful and kind to her, which isn't something most Capitolites do. Even if she's sure China was joking, Meulin smiles warm and sweet. Of course she is.

"I don't know if they're more predictable. They have a smaller area to roam. They live in the tower. The rest of us live all over the city," Her arms spread wide to encompass the whole of the Capitol, "It does keep me on my toes. Lots of late nights and early mornings. I'm awfully spoiled though, someone else usually makes the coffee."

She's spoiled from a District standpoint to have the coffee at all but she's not sure someone from the Capitol would understand. Different points of reference and all.

It is something rather hard for a Capitolite to grasp; coffee is but one of the least of the things they so blithely take for granted.

One day, dear, I hope they'll permit you some more impressive luxuries. And perhaps the necessity of sleep, considering it sounds that you aren't allowed too much of that.

It does not show, if that's any comfort. You look remarkably alert every time I see you. You must tell me your secret.

"Naps. Naps at every turn. But really, it's more of a--stop and start," Her hand makes a flip flop sort of motion along with her explanation, "It's busier the closer we are to the publishing day. And trust me, I'm forced to take some days off. My friends are incessantly interested in my well being, despite working long hours themselves."

Meulin tosses a look back toward the crowd, wondering if she can spot one of them. Alas, she doesn't, and so she pulls her gaze back.

"And I'm drowned in luxury really. Our home is lovely and there are some perks to living with a stylist." Meulin does a spin, as if to show off her finery, a fond smile on her lips.

How very sweet of them. You're deserving of it.

She reflects in an objective sense that it's a very good thing. Though very few Capitolites are the type to work or throw themselves fully into their work, she has seen a couple examples of what can happen when people are allowed to push themselves too hard. It's simply unappealing.

China watches the twirl obligingly, smiling brightly to see the clothes displayed so.

I'm sure. Are all your outfits designed by your stylist companion?

"Oh no. Not even most of them. I do get his advice from time to time. Truth be told, I think he just likes designing for girls. It's just Anna and Phi in Four and Anna is a victor."

It's true enough. She knows the boys and the tributes are interesting to style for, but dresses provide so much more freedom. She reaches up to check her spiked crown and finds it hadn't slipped an inch in all her spinning and swordplay.

"You must employ a stylist of some sort, I'm sure. You always look lovely."

How sweet. It sounds as if you do him just as much a service as he does you.

She bows her head.

Thank you. My assistant is brilliant when it comes to fashion, if I may say so. And he takes good care of the books. I couldn't hope for anyone better.

And he never says a peep. It's rather pleasant.

The Crowning of Cullen Rutherford

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