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

[alldeduction]

The blush was the hardest thing to fake, he thought, as he felt the warmth tinge his cheeks. It required rewriting the scenario in his head to something much more embarrassing than what he had done - required tapping into the quiet shamed fury of his childhood. The fact that John was blushing helped - bodies were strangely responsive to outside sympathetic stimuli. In any case, it was at least successful, the faint blush spreading quickly across his pale cheeks.

He took another halting step backwards, snapping his eyes away from John's face. "... I hadn't exactly - obviously I meant to -- debrief the situation, but this- it seemed--" He faltered, frowned.

"... Clearer."

The frown deepened, as he finally forced himself to look back at John.

"... Not good?"

[drpsychosomatic]

John swallowed, a mix of guilt and worry and god alone knew what else settling in his gut as he watched a blush- a blush- spread over Sherlock's face.
He'd seen shock before, delight, even fear- Sherlock's face, though usually maintained at a cool, even configuration of facial features was actually remarkably expressive when he he allowed it to be- perhaps, John had reasoned before, because he seemed to feel no need to limit himself to a seemly reaction. This, though- he'd never seen Sherlock's body betray him. It felt like an imposition, watching it prickle under his skin.

"It's- unexpected," he said, desperate to say something reassuring to fit Sherlock back together. He'd been so quick to dismiss everyone who said it, anyone who even suggested there might be more to their relationship, and Sherlock had never even once tried to deny a single rumour...
He hadn't believed Sherlock could ever have been a drug addict, either.

"It's- we're fine, Sherlock, alright? Still fine. But- could we maybe not do this in the middle of a crowded dancefloor?"

[alldeduction]

He hesitated, quickly calculating whether or not that singular kiss would be enough of the effect he wanted, before deciding that yes, that should be more than enough.

So he nodded, once, taking another step back until he was well out of John's reach, his hands fiddling and straightening his jacket, even though it was already impossibly straight. "... Yes. Of course. Wouldn't want to- disturb--"

He shook himself, forcing the blush to disappear and took another step back, making sure now not to look at John at all.

"Later, then. Let you... get back to your dance."

[drpsychosomatic]

"No, it's--" he cut himself off, uselessly. This was ridiculous. Teenage. Nobody did this!
But then again, he didn't know many people who borrowed human heads from the local morgue for research purposes, or almost swallowed poison in a bid to prove they were clever or collected cigarette ash and soil, either. He cleared his throat.

"Sherlock- we'll talk, later, alright? I want to talk. The park?"

[alldeduction]

"Yes, yes, the park," Sherlock said, slipping back into almost an exaggerated haughtiness, as if to make up for the lapse in decorum, even as he backed away.

He didn't want to talk, not really. The longer he was forced to talk about it the more he would have to lie, and the more he lied, the more likely John was going to see through it. So he waved a dismissive hand, murmuring, "After the party," before he slipped into the crowd.

[drpsychosomatic]

John stared after him, as if trying to decide if that had really happened- but the flash of a sympathetic smile he was offered by a complete stranger helped to hammer it home.
Christ.

Christ, he was in a mess.