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

[earthborn]

'Entertaining' is the right word for it; if this whole Tribute business doesn't work out, maybe she'll go on the comedy tour.

"I can name on one hand the civilians who've met and subsequently liked me," she replied, not bothering to look. If Thane wanted to be subtle, fine; she wasn't so skilled at the art of going unnoticed. But she hadn't punched anyone yet, and counted that a victory, "I don't think talking is...exactly what's gonna get me any support."

[battlesleep]

That would certainly be entertaining.

"We are no longer the best, here." His gaze is still spread across the room, evaluating. Hyperion could be here. He would not mind a chance to speak with Hyperion again. "You will need sponsors." That she is going to win is something he does not even bother to say. If he has anything to say in it, she will be the one who comes out of this.

[earthborn]

"What you don't think I can take 'em all barehanded?" It's easy to be cocky before the battle but this is pure bravado with no intent to back it up. After a moment she lets the grin drop, and runs an idly hand across the back of her neck, groping for the tension there.

"Yeah, alright, fair point," If we're going to play the game, might as well play it, "Is there a preferred target or is this just...quantity?"

[battlesleep]

A grimace in reply to that, because he knows that he cannot and as highly as he thinks of her combat ability - he has trained his entire life to kill, and that life has been somewhat longer than hers. She has a stronger nature than his, though.

"I have not been here long enough to know specific targets. Beyond him, at least." A gesture over towards Timaeus Nadir. "He is wealthy and interested in the Tributes, I know that. Beyond that I do not know."

[earthborn]

"I can't believe everyone is just going along with this..." she said, looking across to where Nadir was chatting with another couple of tributes, drink in hand, the smiling picture of the careless elite, "It just seems like at least one person would— I dunno. Do something."

Then again, there were places in the galaxy where slavery was still legal, and before they'd met the Reapers, Batarians had called it a cultural right. Shepard had never much liked Batarians.

A thought made her smirk, and look at him sidelong, "...snap a guard's neck?"

[battlesleep]

"I believe someone has, in the past." That conversation with Nadir had made it sound a great deal like there had been efforts made in the past. But that was perhaps not the best thing to be discussing here, where they were certainly under even more careful surveillance than normal.

And that was certainly not. He glanced at her with worry in his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. "I do not think that would lead to anything good."

[earthborn]

"It's a joke," blunt amusement colored her tone at his clear non-comprehension; he was always so serious, "You have to admit, it's a fun idea. Something to do, anyways."

She considered the room. Buffet Table there, heavy oak, thick and autumnal, polished gleaming under the cutlery and cake; it'd made a good barrier to gunfire. The stairs were defensible, a chokepoint, and— what, was that guard yawning? The knives on the table were better suited to butter than battle, but with sufficient force any edge could puncture, and tear. One bullet in the wrong place would be all that it would take to end such a makeshift rebellion, but it wasn't...technically impossible.

"C'mon, indulge me a little. Pure fantasy, how would you break this down?"

[battlesleep]

A joke, in a way. But they were under constant surveillance, and he could not lose her. It was not entirely a joke.

"With preparation and study." An ideal kill would have been planned from weeks ago, everything arranged to be certain that nothing would go wrong, a line of shot planned with a clear getaway.

Like this, with no weapons to hand and his biotics damped? "Like this - not unless absolutely necessary. There are too many unknown variables and no advantages on our side except surprise."

[earthborn]

It remained completely creepy that they'd thought to steal her damn amp when they brought her here. Like this? Well, obviously it'd be suicide.

Of course, it was probably all that'd saved them. The mental image of a nova blast dropped into their midst brought smile to her face, half-unwilling. God, the Games couldn't come quickly enough; all roads had begun to lead, once again, to hitting people.

"See, now that's the real difference between you and me," and it was light only because the other thing would be to agree with him, and if they both stood here acknowledging that they were almost irrevocably screwed. Over a depressingly short curve the survival rate of everyone here mapped directly to zero, "You like to do homework. I'd just as soon charge in."

Well, if he wasn't going to play right, she'd just have to make him sweat a little.

[battlesleep]

"I was the best for a reason." He said it mildly as anything else, but there was a certain firmness to his mouth now. She was inviting danger by discussing it this openly - there were cameras, there were guards, and what Timaeus had said about a rebellion that had been put down still played in the back of his mind.

It had not been meant as a warning, but that was what it was in the end.

"Charging in can work, but in a situation like this? I think it is inadvisable."

[earthborn]

"So was I."

The right retort would be to call him any number of vulgar synonyms for coward. That was what the teasing tone called for, the easy banter. She'd have said it if it were Garrus beside her, or even Tali. But when she opened her mouth to say it, she stuck on the memory of a raised fist, glowing with biotics, a face twisted in pain and concentration, the sound of pistolfire.

She let it go. He was worried and winding him up wouldn't earn her anything she wanted, not when all she really wanted was something approaching a good, cleansing barfight.

"Yeah, I know," and she didn't keep the disappointment out of her tone, nor the sigh, "Hey, if I'm good and go talk to the stuffed shirts, will you stop worrying so much? I'm worried about your health."

C'mon, Krios. A smile. Just a little smile, that's all she wants.

[battlesleep]

So was she. He glanced over at her and nodded. In their different specialties, each of them had been the best there was.

Shepard only took the best because no one else had a chance of keeping up with her.

"You will hate every second of it." It's not quite acquiescence and it's not quite a warning - something inbetween, but he does turn to look at her with a slightly weary tilt upwards of his mouth, close to a smile. "I'm sorry you are stuck here."

[earthborn]

"There are a lot worse places to be stuck in," Her own half-smile, more pronounced, echoes his, "Hell, I've been through a few of them. I'm just sorry..."

About a lot of things. She trails off, thinking, not of any particular time nor place, but of the vague guilt that seems to always have lived somewhere behind her heart. It felt like a closed fist around all the places when she could have done more.

"...If there's anyone I have to be stuck with, I'm glad it's you," For a moment, it's too far, then she slaps a companionable hand on his shoulder and moves with resignation towards the milling herd, "Wish me luck."