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

[marcato]

He could talk about justice, about the nature of television, about killing and fighting. But he doesn't.

"You're the punishment," he says, his eyes flickering wider, his jaw loosening. The punishment is what Grey will being getting -- or has already gotten. The punishment is a more brilliant fire than he ever imagined.

"The executioner."

[fearisinthemind]

Penny's face lights up a bit. It's not a good look on her, less a rising sun and more a furnace choked with hot coal. "Very good."

She likes that sound. 'The punishment', as if there were only one torturer in the Capitol. As if she's more than a person, she's a concept. A giggle rumbles out of her like a purr.

"And you're the madman from my District."

[marcato]

In his old life, Aunamee was never called a madman. At his worst, he was a crook, a dangerous youth, a force to be reckoned with. When people fell before his blade, they poured out apologies and repentance faster than they poured out blood. When he faltered, no one was watching, and when he proved victorious, the sirens in the air sung his praises.

But now everyone is watching, and a ball and chain rests around his ankle, dragging him down to the earth. People have seen him on the verge of death. People have seen him tear out chunks of his own hair.

"No," he says, and his jaw is so tense that the word comes out softer than he meant it to. The muscles in his neck twitch and give like a snake. "Not a madman. A visionary."

[fearisinthemind]

"That's not what the cameras say." Penny's eyes flash a little as she searches for weakness. She can smell the metaphorical blood, even if she doesn't know what exactly caused the injury. It gives her a little rush in her ribs, in her thighs - she can find what drives this man, and she can toy with it like yarn in a cat's cradle.

He's the one who stepped on that annoying doctor's neck. Who gutted the well-meaning techie. Who sliced open the starving brat and who beat the everloving hell out of Dr. Grey, sitting not far from them and enjoying his own wine.

What a pleasure it would be to hold power over this man, power she needn't find excuses for.

"What would you say you're a visionary of?"

[marcato]

"Human nature."

The answer is practiced. Smooth. He's said it so many times before, and in a way it soothes him, this little ritual. It reminds him of his place. He is so much greater than what these people know.

"But it's not enough," he continues, his jaw relaxing, his voice regaining its usual melody. "To understand life. You must also grow intimate with death. But you already know that."

[fearisinthemind]

She bats her eyelids dismissively. "No, I don't think I do. I don't have to understand life. I only need to understand the biology behind it, and that gives me what I want."

How to prolong life and keep her toys around a little longer. How to sap life slowly, excruciatingly.