The Crowning of Albert Wesker

[gamemakers]

Who| Everyone in the Capitol.
What| The Crowning Ceremony
Where| The Victor's Complex
When| Day of the Crowning
Warnings/Notes| None yet.

The theme of the ceremony is clearly black and red. A crimson carpet stretches out across the room. The long table for feasting seems to be made of a single slab of dark obsidian, something that couldn't possibly be found in this size naturally. The chairs are wrought iron with red cushions, and embers burn under personal barbecues at each seat. Red wine, red juice, slabs of red meat to be cooked (or eaten raw) - the details are all perfected. Even some of the Avoxes have received black tattoos for the occasion, the number '11' permanently marking under their eyes like grotesque twin tears.

For a crowning, the ceremony is rather intimate. Only a handful of guests have been invited: the usual Capitol VIPs, the Mentors of each District, and a few of the stars of the last few Games. Karis Needleteeth, Aunamee, Dr. Alastor Grey, Alpha, Lindsey McDonald and Hyperion Crius each have a seat at the table. A few Peacekeepers sit off to the side, sipping wine. A few of the Mentors are conspicuously missing.

And Wesker's throne sits at the head of the table; it's made of the head of the dragon that destroyed so much of Disneyland and slaughtered so many Tributes. The head has been dried, the tongue replaced with a plush velvet seat and back the color of blood. The eyes have been replaced with glass that stares at each side of the room. The fangs, however, remain intact.

Downstairs, the rest of the Tributes and their Escorts and Stylists can partake in a more Disney-themed affair. Everything is still sleek, and tends to veer more towards Maleficent and Jafar then Cinderella and Ariel, but the punch bowl is Mickey Mouse-shaped. There's a dance floor, and a string quartet, and all sorts of lavish foods on tables with red cloth. It's a night for mingling, at least.

[OOC Note: Part one of this is going up tonight in the first two subthreads. Part two will be edited into the last two subthreads tomorrow evening; you'll see why. Go forth and mingle! Tributes from downstairs can go say hello to the Victor, although they won't get long before the Peacekeepers escort them back down.]

Comments

THE VICTOR'S FEAST

[gamemakers]

[Open to Wesker, Karis, Aunamee, Grey, Alpha, Lindsey, Hyperion, Capitol NPCs, Peacekeepers and Mentors. Create your own subthreads here.]

OTA

[hartless_cowboy]

So, despite his public porno with his district companion, who they so thoughtfully removed altogether, Lindsey still got a seat of honor. The ironies of this place, or maybe it was a personal satire.

He wasn't happy still, wasn't sure he wanted to be here either, but since one simply didn't turn down invitations of favor from the Capitol, Lindsey turned up. Dressed in a red and black suit, he was there with all charming smiles and congratulations for the victor. He looked as much as he felt the part of the devil's advocate he used to be.

Except, when he saw the dragon throne, for lack of better wording, the only thing he could think to say was... "Tasteful."

OTA

[fire_punk]

Kevin snorted at that. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

He, too, had been forced into red and black. Worse, a suit. He hated them almost as much as he'd ever hated anything. He pulled at his collar. It felt too tight.

Re: OTA

[hartless_cowboy]

What happened in the arena usually stayed in the arena, but Lindsey couldn't help but still be a little sour when he met the kid who bludgeoned him with his own axe. Especially since that put the kid in the victory spot, it really should've been his.

"Never heard of sarcasm?" He turned to gave the other a look, very similar to his own except for different shades.

"I guess winning puts you in the VIP room." Yup, despite his wide smile, he was definitely still bitter.

Re: OTA

[fearisinthemind]

"I think it's stupid." Penny brushes past Lindsey and pauses to take in the shape of the throne, the dried jerky of the severed neck at the back. The truth is, she would love it if it were hers, but the idea of having to sit there politely and pretend to shower congratulations on some man she doesn't give a shit about has made her opinion of the whole thing rather rancid.

She's dressed rather plainly, in a red jumpsuit with black embroidery and a sash. Peacekeepers aren't supposed to draw too much attention to themselves.

"Then again, I don't think half of you should be here."

[hartless_cowboy]

Lindsey turned at the words, brows arching up at the blatant observation. A veiled one, one that didn't say much but enough to know she was a very opinionated one.

Regardless, she wasn't a tribute, so he knew he had to tread carefully.

"And which half do you think don't belong?" He offered her a bland smile, the type that charmed cameras but revealed very little of his own thoughts. Lawyers were good at them.

OTA

[victorofhope]

This is his second victory feast. He's looking like the most petulant teenager, sitting in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. He's dressed rather extravagantly, with a fur-lined cape and snappy boots, all in shades of black and red. The scarf he wears doesn't really fit in, but it's not something he's going to go without.

All in all, he looks bored, and staring at everyone around him is only so entertaining.

[dieinpajamas]

Alpha's terribly amused by the fact that he is apparently considered a VIP now. It's appropriate, of course, but it's so rare for people to recognize it. And he's dressed nicely for once, less gaudy than he would prefer in a jet-black suit with red accents where appropriate, but he's had worse and he knows he looks great.

All in all, even considering he lost Alpha's in a good mood, and he nudges the gloomy looking fish-faced guy next to him and gestures with his fork towards Wesker and his dragon throne. "So. You think he gets to keep that?"

[victorofhope]

Eridan isn't really pleased with this whole non-victors being brought into the victor's feast, but he can't really can't complain. What he can do is frown at Alpha grumpily, before glancing back to the dragon head.

After a moment, he snorts. "Where do you think he's goin' to put it? Mentor quarters ain't that big."

OTA

[honeyedwords]

Victory feasts have always been one of Holmes's least favorite parts of his victor status. Everything is his least favorite part of his victor status, really, but if he were made to choose for some reason, the victory feasts would certainly be amongst at least the top ten. Especially when the newest "winner" seemed so pleased with himself. The Capitol picked one well suited to their own causes this time, at least.

It's been made clear to him that attendance is capital 'm' Mandatory, so he's sitting off at the edge of the room least likely to receive any sort of fanfare or coverage and scowling very hard at an untouched glass of unnaturally red wine. His posture is rather stiff, though whether that's because of the way his suit is tailored much more for form than function or because of his own discomfort or some combination of the two is unclear.

[neclectus]

Unfortunately, Timaeus was rather intent on seeking out the more interesting characters of the evening- and there was absolutely no way he was going to pass up an opportunity to speak with Holmes. A recluse- which wasn't all that strange in itself, quite a few former victors seemed uncomfortable in the spotlight, which privately Timaeus thought was generally a District brat in the civilized Capitol thing- but he remembered Holmes, and couldn't contain his curiosity. Something must have drawn him back into the public eye. The new Tributes, perhaps? He couldn't deny their appeal- it had certainly had quite the effect on him, after all.

"Good evening," he greeted him, a soft smile slipping onto his face as he sat beside him, a tall glass of something dark red and alcoholic in hand, not wine. He preferred cocktails. "Sherlock Holmes. My, it has been some time- you look well. How are you?"

[honeyedwords]

"Terrible," answers Holmes, not bothering to break his staring contest with his own glass. The withdrawal is still gnawing at him, as is the knowledge of the fact that the majority of what's keeping him from acting on his urges isn't so much his own willpower as that he doesn't have a supplier in the Capitol. He's been contenting himself to abstain from alcohol as well, since he can at least call that a personal victory what with it being everywhere in this city.

He does look up eventually, after a few moments of silently hoping this intruder would go away if he ignored him hard enough. "Timaeus Nadir, what a surprise." The flatness of his delivery makes it abundantly clear that no, it actually isn't. "And what brings you here?"

OTA

[president_evil]

If Wesker was at all ill-at-ease sitting in the mouth of a dragon, he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed perfectly at home on his throne between the great, glistening fangs, a black-stain in his special made suit against the rusty red of the chair.

His suit was a variation of the one he'd worn during his network appearance. Leather this time, with a long coat that teased against his ankles whenever he deigned to move about the room. The shining veins of ruby were gone, but there was a sash now, like a bloody smear across his chest.

At the moment, he was seated like the king he was at the head of the table, the bowl of a wine glass resting in one palm, liquid swirling idly as he watched the activity around him from behind the impenetrable lenses of his glasses.

His mouth was curved, a gentle smirk, as if laughing at the punchline of some private joke.

Re: OTA

[gardienne]

After a long, long while, Eponine finally staggered up the stairs to where Wesker sat ensconced on his dragon head. She smiled shyly as she approached, and then, a bit nearer, bobbed an inelegant curtsey.

"Monsieur Wesker, I should say congratulations."

She moved forward again though, looking not at Wesker, but at the dragon head.

"Is it real?"

[shambler]

Compared to some of the others, R was dressed fairly conservatively, the ribbon around his neck lined with steel mesh to force him to stop sagging so much. Probably a good thing he didn't need to breathe because if he did, he'd probably be gasping for air and turning blue in the face from the choker long before he made it to Wesker.

He still had this urge to pick at it, though.

R labored all the way to the Victor's place of honor, pausing to gape at the dragon's head because it was so much bigger in person and those fangs were stupidly huge, almost too big to process whether you were a human or a zombie. The weird thing was despite sitting right at the mouth, Wesker didn't look dwarfed by it at all. R couldn't explain why.

"Congrats...?" R was prepared with his speech by the time he finally lurched up to Wesker. "On...your win, Weskerrr. Not...surprised you...did it."

[neclectus]

Timaeus had been looking forward to this for some time now. Wesker wasn't exactly known for being the life and soul of the party, as it were, and Crowning was one opportunity he couldn't avoid to meet him.
He affected a slightly amused bow as he approached.
"Congratulations on your win, Mr. Wesker. Most well-earned."

[knifewithnoname]

Pruna was very interested at the man who had won. She had seen his final fights, he was strong. She grinned at the dragon as well, she had been out of the arena by the time it had been unleashed but she had seen it on the televisions. It was much bigger in real life and she reached out to touch one of the teeth.

Then remembered her manners and the lecture she would receive if she forgot them much longer. "I do be congratulating you."

THE VICTOR'S FEAST | Dan OTA

[brother2dragons]

Dan was in uniform so he wasn't exactly letting himself relax and enjoy the party. Instead he found himself holding his wine glass as he watched the people around him. He didn't drink the same way that some of his fellow officers were. He was, however, a little entranced by what was happening around him.

This was, after all, the first Crowing he had ever been this close to. It was a little unbelievable, though he knew if he had chosen another route for his life it would have been every day.

Penny | OTA

[fearisinthemind]

Seated at the Peacekeeper's table is a woman in a burgundy jumpsuit, nicely-tailored but functional, with black embroidery at the cuffs and a dark sash around the waist. She's sipping at a glass of wine, upper lip crumpled slightly; she might be beautiful if not for the clear sourness going on behind her skin. Her very blood is fermented, bitter.

Currently, her resentment is aimed at Wesker, whose presence seems to blot out her peripheral vision like a hallucinatory shadow, inescapable and looming. Every time she looks over to the Victor in his throne, her teeth bare a little more, her eyes narrow slightly; she hates that she's giving him more attention when he's already basking in it. She wants that adoration, or even the hate from the other Tributes around the table, for herself.

She folds her arms and sits back.

[president_evil]

He noticed the eyes, felt the weight of them upon him. He saw the wrinkle in her fine porcelain nose, the wrinkle in her shining lips.

He did not know her; had no inclination as to what slight, real or imagined, she was taking fault with.

But it didn't matter.

Head ducking, amused, he tipped his glass to her in a silent toast.

Re: Penny | OTA

[marcato]

Aunamee mingles as easily as breathing. He is favored, after all, and that knowledge is enough to keep him gliding from chair to chair, bright-eyed and friendly, even with the presence of his enemies so very near.

"It's unfortunate, isn't it?" he says as he approaches and rounds her chair, opting for concern rather than smugness -- although he excels at both. Her sour expression is what caught his attention in the first place. He has come to believe that all Capitol citizens relish this sort of pomp and circumstance, and that if they don't, they learn to pretend.

He rests his hand on the table.

"Men like that shouldn't be celebrated."

Re: Penny | OTA

[teethofneedles]

Karis sidles down the table and takes a seat next to Penny, glass firmly in hand. A clawed hand, which is really one of the few clues she's a deader, tonight. They really went all out for the make-up job and most of her limbs are covered by cloth.

"Uther's balls, this thing is dull. Too many guys up here, am I right?"

Hahaha OTA

[akingalways]

Well, Jack had some similarities in terms of looks to Wesker, and naturally, his stylists went all out with the idea. The idea that Jack was first. Jack was still relevant. That Wesker was hardly the only man worthy of a throne. They even managed to dye his scelera to match Wesker's unnatural color.

Of course, Jack, looking so much like him in his black-and-red ensemble, was seated reasonably close to the newest Victor, which had a few people confused. The fact they added sunglasses to Jack's face didn't help. Some people even walked right past Wesker and shook Jack's hand, only to quickly realize their mistake after Jack opened his mouth.

It was a little amusing to Jack, if also a little annoying. As much as he loved the spotlight, he preferred it was a spotlight where people actually called him by the right name. And it was actually his and his alone. Not another guy's.

OTA

[teethofneedles]

This is actually pretty damn familiar, all things considered. Dragon heads, obsidian and iron chairs - this is what it was like back home. And that actually stings a little, even for someone who prides herself on not being affected by this bullshit. Tonight she's been coaxed, cajoled and finally berated into wearing something fancy. It's not a gown for once (and she's quietly pleased at that). She's been prettied up enough with makeup that you almost couldn't tell she was dead at first glance - the long sleeves and trousers help with that. She curls in her chair, nursing a glass of wine as she watches the interplay. She can't help but shoot the occasional glare at the head of the table - she came close to being there herself.

And she hates losing.

[cowardfacinghappiness]

Momoko can't help comparing this party to her own, and it's bad enough that it, obviously, pales in comparison but whenever she thinks of her Crowning, now, she thinks of Draco and how it's impossible to pretend he's coming back, not after so long. So she turns away from the dancing and the food, to the tribute next to her. Momoko hadn't given her a second glance when they were seated, but she wanted a distraction, at least until she could sneak back to her rooms, and a conversation would do in a pinch.

"Are you a Mentor or one of the ones who lost?"

Not that it had to be a pleasant conversation.