gamemakers: (Default)
The Gamemakers ([personal profile] gamemakers) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2013-09-02 11:22 am

The Crowning of Maximus Decimus Meridius

Who| Everyone
What| Maximus' crowning
Where| Victory Hall
When| Today
Warnings| Violence.


Prior to the Crowning, the Stylists and Escorts were given information: the color scheme for the Crowning is brown and gold, the theme is fire, and for Tributes, Games Staff and Victors in the Capitol alike, attendance is mandatory. No exceptions.

The Victory Hall has been completely refitted to the theme. Great brownstone pillars reach up from the floor, now made of polished marble. Rose petals and dying embers flutter from the ceiling like confetti, and long panels of fabrics embroidered with Maximus' kills pour down the walls. Rather than tables, Tributes are given wooden chairs to sit around fire pits in groups of four, where pigs and sheep are roasting whole, tended by attentive Avoxes. The smell of charring flesh and rosemary wafts through the hall.

In the center of the hall is a pit, fifteen feet deep, ringed with brick and filled with sand. Torches line the inside wall, casting light in every direction. A circular screen up above lets those not close to the edge view the contents of the pit in real-time video.

Maximus' private table has a theme of anachronisms; Tributes from 'less-developed' timelines and worlds are seated around a long table, facing the gladiatorial ring where, at the moment, a full-grown, well-fed Bengal tiger paces. Compared to the muttations of the Arena, it may seem positively demure, up until it bares its fangs and reveals that it's been modified to have saber teeth gilded in gold. Occasionally an Avox will dangle something into the pit and jerk it away if the tiger looks bored and lays down.

Occasionally, with fanfare of music pumped in to announce it, a challenger enters the tiger ring - a hologram of one of the Tributes who were cuffed and marked by the Capitol. The hologram must be affixed with smell, too, as the tiger takes note and attacks like a kitten following a laser pointer, making dramatic roars as it does. The holograms put up valiant fights, and their deaths are brutal, illusory blood flying and the sounds of death rattles and bones cracking coming from speakers embedded in every table.

"A speech," Maximus' Escort says to Maximus. "The General must give a speech."

Tributes who attended Wesker's Crowning ceremony should notice a remarkable increase in security. Visibly armed Peacekeepers lurk behind the panels of fabric, and bulbous, obvious cameras dot the ceiling. Even the Avoxes seem shiftier than usual, and are equipped with discrete tape recorders pinned to their rough-hewn tunics.
gluteus: (no fear)

Speech [tw: lots of talk of death]

[personal profile] gluteus 2013-09-02 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Maximus was dressed head to toe in gold - an elaborate set of armour and skirts, full bracers, gauntlets, and a crown of gold laurels set upon his head.

He hated it. His outfit, the fanfare. The way he could see every death the brought embroidered around the walls. His face was hard, and he was not in the mood to celebrate something he saw as a forced necessity. Where his victory had only given him a new and varied kind of bondage.

He tried to ignore the escort hissing into his ear but eventually he relented, standing at his table, the chair scraping the floor behind him as he pushed to his feet. A silence descended. Even the tiger in the ring below him seemed to quieten, pacing silently around the just-fallen illusionary corpse of some poor tribute.

He didn't look at Snow, seated at the other end of the table, but instead outwards, to the mass of others.

A chance to speak to the entirety of who mattered, all in one room. He would have to chose his words carefully.

"We are all of us, dead men," He started, his deep voice booming out through the room, amplified by the hidden microphones, thundered through the speakers.

In truth, it wasn't his speech, but it resonated in him still, causing his very bones to vibrate and hum. A speech for the tributes, ignoring the others, even if he could feel Snow's eyes on him, boring holes into his neck.

"Each of us here has faced our death. Many of us more than once. More so than any one to come before us, we are one with our deaths. The meaning we might have taken, the solace we might have had, is lost to us. But Death unites us.

"Have no fear of your own death. If she comes to bring you back to this place, or if she comes to take you another - if you find yourself in Elysium, rather than in the Capitol - her arms take us onward. There is no fear to be found, in her embrace.

"Fear instead the theft of your worth. Take what time you have - however many times you have - and forge them into a meaning, into a purpose. Your end does not matter - what matters is how you face that end.

"What we do in life, echoes in eternity."
Edited 2013-09-02 16:39 (UTC)
president_evil: (weskerKnife)

Re: Speech [tw: lots of talk of death]

[personal profile] president_evil 2013-09-02 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)
At one of the closest tables - as his station dictated - Wesker watched and listened, firelight reflecting off the dark lenses of his glasses. Ruby and gold bands that played across the black.

Fire within, fire without.

It was the only color in his outfit.

He hadn't been able to cow the new stylist completely to his whims - yet - but they'd struck an uneasy accord and the resulting combination of their wills was at once anachronistic and modern. To tell the truth, he was almost tickled at what it represented: playing the game, while still above it.

As Maximus' speech came to an end, his shifted, just a fraction. Tipping his head down, red and gold - eyes now, rather than flames, but really, what was the difference - catching at the new victor.

They held - a heartbeat, perhaps less (that's all it took for men such as Maximus) - and then shifted to the end of the grand, high table.

Now. Or never.
Edited 2013-09-02 19:52 (UTC)

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gruesome: (grue-don't hurt me!)

[personal profile] gruesome 2013-09-02 03:52 pm (UTC)(link)
There was a commotion before anything began, when the tributes were drifting in and finding their seating. Some had been dutifully moving with the crowd, distracted by his costume of intricately linked chains and mail, when suddenly, he caught a suspicious flicker of reflection on the bronze bands around his arms. His head jerked up, crest instantly erect as he caught the whiff of smoke above the pervasively distracting smell of humans. Saw the torches. And then the firepits.

His panic was instant. With a short, strangled scream, Some reared up onto his hind legs. His crest brushing the ceiling, he twisted, shoving past the nearest tributes and mentors to dive over and through the crowd, against the flow of traffic. He was keening in panic, a loud sound that came from his lower chest, and shaking whenever anything impeded his progress.
big_badass_hero: (Default)

[personal profile] big_badass_hero 2013-09-02 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Chris stopped Some from leaving the room, he wasn't forceful about it. "Some, it's okay, no one's going to hurt you." He touched his shoulders, being used to the creature that wasn't a Bioweapon, only from being in the same district. "Why don't you stay near me okay? We'll stay to the shadows will that be okay?" Chris was only offering because he really didn't want Some getting into trouble.

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the_marshal: (wyattConfused)

Victor's...Ring? OTA

[personal profile] the_marshal 2013-09-02 05:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Wyatt was so accustomed by this point to the tributes being kept separate from the victors, he had at first readily drifted toward the back of the room to a corner fire pit. Somewhere he could keep his back to the wall and yet, if he leaned just so, make out Maximus - gleaming like a new penny - at his victor's table.

When his escort appeared shortly after, 'No, no! Not there!, harried and breathless, to pull him all but by the ear, 'You belong up there!, he was as once surprised and glad, and - a might embarrassed. At least in the corner no one else could get a good look at the reason why his stylists had been whispering so much.

Short and sheer and far too tight, he felt ridiculous, and was sure, if he moved too fast or even dared to breath too deeply, he'd make the team's 'hard work' all for naught.

Tugging on the bottom of the filmy fabric, he glanced warily into the pit - the great cat snarled up at him with glittering, too-long teeth - and worked at finding himself a seat close to Max.
Edited 2013-09-02 17:37 (UTC)
gluteus: (amused)

[personal profile] gluteus 2013-09-02 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
It was before he was harried into making a speech, before his grim musings on death, and only relief was on Maximus' face as Wyatt came and saddled up next to him. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled as he stood to greet his friend.

"Welcome to the Victor's table," he murmured, amused. "You look, ah, well."

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rat_des_marais: (shy)

[personal profile] rat_des_marais 2013-09-02 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Remy was more than happy to hear about a party going on. The first thought he had was Good. He could really use some sort of wind down. All of the good thoughts were quickly dashed away when he heard that the party was mandatory.

It was good that his hopes were spoiled so soon. Nothing else really got him down now, but there were plenty of surprises left in store... At least the food looked good.

Remy sat at one of the outlying pits, watching the so-called Victor the closest of everyone else in the room. So this guy won the last arena and the party was made in his honor. Keeping to himself, he looked around at the other tributes, already sizing them up for the next one. He wanted to get out of this business as fast as possible and the best direction to go was up.
wantsajetpack: (Default)

[personal profile] wantsajetpack 2013-09-02 08:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"Seat taken?" Pepper asked nodding to a spot near him. She was tired of walking around and she couldn't find Danny, so she figured best bet would be to sit in one place and hope that he would find her.

"Take it first one? This is the second of these I've been to, first was... well Disney themed."

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doc_holi: (seriously explaining)

[personal profile] doc_holi 2013-09-02 05:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Holiday was dressed in a historically laughable tunic as she sat at one of the pits... looking straight ahead and trying hard to garner no attention to herself.

Her own screams and pleads against the tiger poured out of the speaker beside her. It would be so easy to just get up and move away, but the show of vulnerability would be obvious. Not to mention that she was actually scared of catching the tiger's attention.

Instead, Holiday forced her mind to preoccupy itself with another task. Rebecca's eyes moved around the room, trying to ignore the sounds of her own body being ripped apart, with only one thing in mind.

She couldn't find Punchy.
big_badass_hero: (relaxed)

[personal profile] big_badass_hero 2013-09-02 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Chris wasn't much better in the outfit he was in. Steel looking armor much like Maximus's only purposely more dented. She may have heard his stylist complaining when he had punched the armor a few times in his protest about wearing it.

"Hey Doc."

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formersurgeon: (uncertain)

OTA

[personal profile] formersurgeon 2013-09-02 06:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Joan has been adjusting to the over-the-top hedonistic finery of the Capitol, yet she is still taken aback by the brutal splendor of the Victory Hall. The stylists have dressed her in a short leather "gladiator outfit" with gold accents and a cape that ripples with flame. She'd guess it's a nod to the armor she wore in the Arena.

As she's guided to a seat at a fire, she passes by the tiger pit. There's someone in there, fighting the tiger, and for a moment Joan thinks it must be an act, like the lion tamer at a circus. Then the tiger pounces, forces the man to the sand. Joan takes a startled step toward the pit. Someone should help the man. Can't they see he's in danger?

Yet no one does. And with one violent snap of its jaws and twist of its head, the tiger tears the man's throat out. Blood spurts out, spraying the sand, as the man's heart forces it out for the few moments it still beats. Joan recoils in horror, but just can't look away. The spray of blood ebbs, and the man dies there on the sand.

Then flickers, and is gone. Joan blinks. It wasn't real. Well, the tiger is. But the man wasn't.

She's still staring at the tiger pit as the attendant gets her moving again toward a seat. She sits when directed, and her attention shifts from the illusory bloodbath in the tiger pit to the whole pig speared lengthwise on a spit and slowly turning, roasting over the fire. The animal's death was for the enjoyment of these people, and she feels an uneasy familiarity with that.

She looks away, instead searching the faces for someone she knows.
the_marshal: (wyattHathide)

[personal profile] the_marshal 2013-09-02 06:35 pm (UTC)(link)
There's one, perhaps, if the wildly different attire didn't throw her off.

At the first cry of bugle fanfare, and the subsequent mauling of a 'tribute' in the pit, Wyatt had been angry. A deep, vibrating heat that pushed through his veins and had him sitting ramrod straight in his chair - jaw clenched hard enough his back teeth ached; but the night went on, and more and more fell to the teeth and claws of the beast below it melted into a weariness, a tiredness that dragged at his mouth and eyes.

Doc and Anna and Tony and... and Howard too....

He'd pushed away from the table, needing a break.

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shambler: (068)

[personal profile] shambler 2013-09-02 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
R's there surprisingly early and it's all down to his Escort. She's had him scrubbed down - he's convinced a few more baths and he'll be scrubbed right down to his muscles and tendons - and sprayed him point-blank with Tide's Sigh perfume. She's even swapped his silver muzzle for gold. To match the armor, she said, although really gold isn't your strongest color, honey, but we make do!

He has no idea where that "we" is coming from. It's all her.

Now he's sitting there almost swallowed up in a gold robe lined with red, watching the tiger like he's never seen one before because he hasn't. In theory he knew what a tiger was. Two syllable word; hard T; ends like his name with an Rrr. Orange and black. Stripes. Whiskers. Bounces(?). That's about as far as his level of context went up to now. Watching it pace, its tail weaving hypnotically between its legs, R waits for that moment for it to click and for another piece of his life's puzzle fall into place. It doesn't. The tiger paces, growls. It doesn't bounce on its tail. There's a definite lack of bouncing. R wonders where that one came from.

Maybe it's defective. Or, according to Shion, genetically-engineered not to bounce.

R decides he better go ask. The tiger's bugging him just as much as watching it rip a man's jugular out, its teeth so big he can't stop staring even once the gladiator vanishes. He lurches up and shuffles around the edge of the pit, trying to look for someone who knows a thing a two about tigers.
Edited 2013-09-02 19:28 (UTC)
savedbyasong: (serious)

[personal profile] savedbyasong 2013-09-02 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Here is someone who knows a thing or two about most animals. His hair has changed again, it's now a brown golden colour, and the scar that has always been on his face and neck is more red, to look like fire, his shirt open to show where it spiraled round his chest and stomach.

"Hello R." He is pointedly trying not to look at the tiger.

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neclectus: (wistful look)

[personal profile] neclectus 2013-09-02 07:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Timaeus looks almost uncomfortable, for once- he's stiff in the shoulders, and his usual fluid, expansive gestures have a slightly forced air to them, matching the tightness of his more commonly companionable smile. Still, he's dressed to impress in a deep brown, almost black suit, embossed gold trim at the lapels with speckles of gold leaf at his temples and adorning his fingernails.

He's drawn to the tiger, of course- who wouldn't be? He watches it tear up holographic tributes one after another and feels nothing. He's numb and hollow, and he can't muster up a shred of sympathy for the hollow people dying before him. If anything, he feels sorry on some distant, purely intellectual level for the tiger. It seems to be putting a lot of work in for very little reward.

Half convinced the that Capitol will conjure up one of his missing favourites for the tiger to claim an empty victory over simply to spite him, he watches, transfixed.
wantsajetpack: (Default)

[personal profile] wantsajetpack 2013-09-02 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Pepper's trying not to watch the tiger, she thinks that the whole display's awful, she does spot him though and walks over to one of the few Capitol citizens she thinks she can stomach right now.

"Hi, sorry I haven't made it to the ship yard yet." Hey it's a good distraction from the tiger she'd rather let loose and eat up the idiots cheering.

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futilecycle: (Default)

OTA

[personal profile] futilecycle 2013-09-02 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)
It reeked of death. In the black spits and popping fire Sigma was reminded of the sound and scent of humans roasting, and was doing all he could to keep his temper; he was certain the allusion was intentional. The Doctor's dress for the evening had him in a soft gold tunic and pants, but in the places where Maximus had stabbed him were stitched scarlet threads, bursting open with designs equal parts flame and blood. The most prominent of these marks ran across his stomach, a deep crimson, nearly black, in the centre with an exit wound on his back to match. Pleasant.

Sigma recognized his own face - as well as Eponine's - on the wall, and stiffened defensively as Maximus began his speech. A smart man, and one that did not wish to be a part of what he had won, it appeared. Well, now he'd had his wish: he was out, and the child he had killed would continue to struggle against a tide deeper than she could handle. Dr. Klim threw a glance at Eponine quickly to see how she was taking it.

As the address finished, Sigma looked incredulous, turning back to the victor with disdain. There was nothing glorious, nothing comforting, about death, nor how one died. Death was an ugly, graceless, undignifying thing that spat souls not into paradise but an abyss his powers allowed him to remember. Empty, black, lonely. His usually gentle hands wrung together in his lap, he lowered his gaze, and he had yet to touch any food or drink.
splendid_roman: (Isn't he a splendid looking Roman?)

Re: OTA

[personal profile] splendid_roman 2013-09-04 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
"You don't like the speech?" Ian asked, surprised, from across the table. He'd liked it - it had been a good speech, he thought. But this man had an expression that suggested he didn't like something.

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Re: OTA

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gardienne: (what?)

[personal profile] gardienne 2013-09-02 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Eponine was astonished, and more than a little dismayed, to find herself being shoved towards the Victor's table by her escort. She had supposed that she'd be allowed to sit, unnoticed in the back - but no. There was no way she'd be anonymous at this event.

Sere glanced about in awe of her surroundings, until her eyes lit upon her own image embroidered on the tapestries: Maximus plunging his weapon into her chest. Maximus hacking off her head as R fed on her foot. She looked away quickly, pulling the shawl draped over her hair tighter.

The stylists had gone all out for Max's party, so pleased were they to have a District 3 victor. As Maximus was the Victorious Roman General, so she was dressed as a Vestal virgin. Her long hair had been wound about the front with rope, and the rest plaited and knotted all across the back of her head to create an intricate up-do. And then, much to Eponine's befuddlement, a sheer shawl, red melding into orange and yellow, had been secured on top. Her dress was more modest than usual, too: a long, flame coloured skirt hid her legs, and though the back was low, she was covered still by her shawl.

Sitting gingerly down at the table, she peered down into the tiger pit. What was it? She had never seen such a thing. She peered as far over the pit edge as she could, still staring in wonder at the beautiful beast below.

"Please? What is it? Is it real?"

[Ep's hair: http://www.capitalbay.com/uk/294578-how-to-recreate-the-hairstyle-of-rome-s-vestal-virgins-hairdressing-archaeologist-reverse-engineers-the-ancient-do.html

EP's dress: http://www.bbc.co.uk/blast/111083]
Edited 2013-09-02 20:02 (UTC)
polyturtle: (go to your room)

[personal profile] polyturtle 2013-09-02 10:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"Its a tiger."

The voice behind her was likely one of the last voices Eponine wanted to hear. Ever. Unfortunately, he'd been walking towards where he hoped there was a bathroom or latrine or something of the sort where he could wash his hands. And why not? Ancient Rome had them.

He just happened to be passing by the main table when she had asked her question.

"And it is real."

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justoutrunyou: (Pale scared)

OTA

[personal profile] justoutrunyou 2013-09-02 08:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Sandy for one...was not happy with this.

Maximus was one of the first tributes she had seen kill someone whens he arrived. He had killed Javert who was one of the rare few adults she trusted. One of the adults that was gone now.

This was made worse when she watched her holographic self march into the tiger pit and be brutally pounced upon. Despite all she had seen she was horrified by the graphic detail of the claws sinking into her flesh.

But she couldn't tear her eyes away.
earthborn: (know yourself)

[personal profile] earthborn 2013-09-09 04:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Shepard wasn't the kind of woman given to the idea of children. Well— that wasn't true. Other people's children, kids who didn't have anyone else, kids who just needed a leg up, a moment's protection a— No. She was a killer, who's best hope was to one day die in the traces and...

Ah, screw it, she couldn't watch this.

The Commander reached out and gave Sandy a shove from behind. It's not ungentle, but it should be enough to startle her out of whatever reverie the bloodshed has got her trapped in.

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revvinguptheharley: (Rageface)

OTA

[personal profile] revvinguptheharley 2013-09-02 08:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Harleen Quinzell, even before her decent into madness had always loved attending renaissance festivals. It was the geek in her she supposed. Though this was more barbarian based then she would have liked, but her stylist had at least given her a shiny outfit with ridiculous wingie thingies to distract herself with so she was happy.

She even cheered for her holographic self battling the sabertoothed kitty down in the pit and booed and hissed when she lost.

"I want a do over! Gimmie a mallet and let me down there and I'll show that kitty what the REAL Harley Quinn can do!"

paidinbeer: (what's that?)

[personal profile] paidinbeer 2013-09-02 08:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Orc had to admit, for all the parties he had been to, at least this one was kind of cool.

Being still new to this world he didn't know Maximus, but he thought in another time he might have admired him. He was everything Orc had wanted to be. Powerful, commanding, a total hard ass.

But violence wore away at Orc's soul and so while he wistfully, drunkenly thought about what it would like to be someone like Maximus, he could not ignore who...what he was.

As usual, with a large sturdy mug of something alcoholic Orc ignored the cries of his desperate escort and sat off to the side of the party slowly drinking himself into a state of uncaring relaxation.

It was not made better by his stylists idea for the evening's attire. First they had painted his grey gravel skin brown, and between the cracks of stone and around the larger brown pebbles they had painted him with glittering gold. so it looked as if he was surging with molten gold from within.

Then of course came the discussion of pants. Orc wanted to wear pants, the stylist wanted him in a speedo to show off his muscular legs (More like the stylist wanted to show off how detailed the paint job was.) They compromised with shorts, but they were too tight for Orc's liking. He was almost embarrassed.

But he was drunk, that helped.
Edited 2013-09-02 20:43 (UTC)
wantsajetpack: (fragile)

Pepper - ota

[personal profile] wantsajetpack 2013-09-02 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Once again Pepper was dressed in a Roman styled dress. This time it was cream, the trimmings were a deep chocolate brown. Her hair had grown a little since the first party she had been shoved at, it was still too short to really do much with, so she had a crown woven of golden branches.

Snagging a drink from one of the passing wait staff she sipped at it, doing her best to ignore the caged tiger. That was until she caught sight of herself battling it. Citizens around her cheered the tiger on. Even though she knew it wasn't her... She could hear the comments they said about her. That she was only good as bait. Pulling away from them she went to find Maximus and congratulate him before she tried to slip off somewhere to hide the rest of the night.
knifewithnoname: (quiet fear)

[personal profile] knifewithnoname 2013-09-02 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
The last big public event Pruna had been to was the dancing, having only attended some small gatherings since. And the difference between the polite princess and the Pruna of today couldn't have been different.

It had started alright, she was wearing a golden dress, straight and shimmery. Her hair was elaborate, with curls falling around her face, she had a fire drop earring in each ear. Though her stylists were used to her not wearing shoes they had put beads, around her ankle and second toe, a mesh covering the top of her feet whilst giving her full movement.

They were heavy but she had agreed to the compromise. And had been the perfect well behaved tribute that Effie would have been proud of right up until the moment she had seen the tiger. She had been interested at first, she had never seen such a creature before. But her eyes darkened as the hologram of her entered and was killed.

When it showed Sandy she made a sound of anger, threw the drink she was holding into the fire pit and tried to kick the bench over, eyes blazing with anger.
justoutrunyou: (Pale scared)

[personal profile] justoutrunyou 2013-09-02 09:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Sandy was standing nearby in her own dress of leathery brown with sharp gold painted in swirls to resemble a wind flowing around her. The stylists had even gone as far as to give her matching beads around her ankles, so she and Pruna could continue to play up their closeness, but she had to wear golden open toed sandals as well.

She had learned to gravitate towards Pruna in any social situation but as the assassin's hologram was killed Sandy's eyes went wide, and when her own hologram was trotted out into the pit to die her face went pale and she felt like what little fluid she had drank since arriving was now ice in her belly.

Unconsciously she put a hand over the cuff she still bore on her wrist. She had painted it gold at her stylists insistence but now she wished she'd left it alone.

The holograms screams made her tremble.

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burnedbrighter: (teenage girl smile)

[personal profile] burnedbrighter 2013-09-02 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
And then there was Azula in all her radiance. Gold suited her it seemed as a long dark brown dress with gold lace flames worked up the sides. Glittering gold earrings resembling fireballs were simple yet lovely and Azula knew she would be sure to tell Claudia how much she enjoyed the direction she had gone with this theme. Tall gold heels gave her an extra few inches to work with as she mixed and mingled with the other attendees.

It was painfully difficult for Azula to admit that she could not do everything for District five, but with all the time she spent trying to improve the tributes skills she simply couldn't spare the time for fashion. Thankfully Claudia seemed to know her trade despite her professing art to be her first love.

And the amount of fire in this party was soothing to Azula in a way others might not understand. It quieted her mind and allowed her to...for the moment at least let down her guard. She wouldn't be attacked here tonight. She was a loyal citizen of the capitol embracing her role as mentor.

She was not those mewling pathetic children who's images were being torn apart by the tiger. She could never imagine being so foolish.

And so she set about her duties, mingling and making sure she put on a good face for any potential sponsors who might look to her for an idea of where the District's tributes were going with their training.
polyturtle: (go to your room)

OTA

[personal profile] polyturtle 2013-09-02 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Those who talked to Don would notice he was dressed much like a gladiator, albeit better dressed. He wore a gold manica on his right arm, with a red sash shawl with a gold border tucked into the belt of his tunic. He was otherwise bare-plastron. He wore sandals with gold strings, but that was it. His Stylists wanted to convey his simplicity, his modesty - and his newly found ferociousness.

It certainly made an creature of a creature to be noticed, but not to be messed with. Of course, the Stylists knew, that new, intimidating presence easily made up for the low-key costume.

As for the turtle himself, Don watched from his firepit as Maximus made his speech, silent the entire time. It was clearly aimed at those like him, who'd learned the truth of their worth in this place, this monstrous, dark, horrible place.

He felt nothing. No stirring emotion, no welling of hope, not even an inkling. He knew his worth now, and no words were going to change that. He was sure of it. Instead, he sat, turning back towards the firepit, staring at the sheep being roasted in front of him, the flames leaping up around it.

Well. Maximus was correct about one thing, he mused.

They were, indeed, all going to die once more, soon enough.

...Though Maximus taming the tiger was unexpected.
Edited 2013-09-02 23:59 (UTC)
wantwhatiwant: clasticons (glare)

[personal profile] wantwhatiwant 2013-09-03 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
It was indeed, Ian raised his eyebrow as the victor jumped into the pit and wrestled the tiger. It was impressive at least.

He wondered if it had been planned, Ian went to sit back down and froze as he saw the figure. He had seen him around of course, and always made sure not to enter the room, or take another pass. But now he was sat right in front of Ian, at the bench where Ian had been told to sit.

"Fuck."

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itwasrhetorical: (Default)

Glinda - Open

[personal profile] itwasrhetorical 2013-09-02 10:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Glinda hadn't much a clue of the significance of the clothing she was wearing.

While it was an interpretation of what vestal virgins wore the pieces were near enough to be regonigsable if not made of somewhat finer fabrics and weaves than what would have traditionally been available. She was covered in fine silks and Her blonde hair was pulled back from her face, plaited into a crown at the front and woven with both red ribbons and small white flowers. The veil pinned to the back of her head was made of a near transulscient linen.

She had to admit, it all seemed rather a fine costume to wear but far more costume like than any of the other outfits she had been given before. The Witch kept far away from the tiger pit, viewing it with distaste. Mostly she tries to drink as much wine as is possible to get through this atrocious event with a smile on her face and her good manners in check.
savedbyasong: (serious)

[personal profile] savedbyasong 2013-09-02 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Shion's hair was no longer blue. Instead they had died it brown. Strands of gold showing through. It was close enough to his old hair colour, before his hair had gone white for him to feel strange.

But it was better than blue. For once instead of trying to hide his scar the stylists had used it, using makeup to make it even more red, adding a tongue like a tendril of fire on his cheek.

He wore a golden shirt, with no buttons, open to show the fire scar. His blush was just as red. He looked around, sadly at the tiger and the holographs, up at the victor and those at his table. The smell of roasting made him feel sick.
splendid_roman: (Default)

[personal profile] splendid_roman 2013-09-04 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"At least they're not sending us in to go up against the tiger." Ian came up beside Shion and looked over for the tiger. Although he felt sorry for the way the tiger was being mistreated, it could have been worse and so he sounded quite jolly about it.

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sleeplessinalternia: (76 Walking with your head in a sling)

[personal profile] sleeplessinalternia 2013-09-02 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Karkat sits around a firepit that he shares with Signless and the Leijons. He's dressed in armor again, his stylist having decided that was a good look for him. This time it's gold, with a crab motif on the breastplate and brown leather leggings underneath.

There's a jug of soda off to the side, which the avox has been pouring for them when their cups run dry. For most tributes the soda would be wine, but troll physiology is... weird. Karkat's had about one glass, enough to help him ignore the tiger pit, and is currently gnawing some of the baa-beast flesh off the bone.

At least the food's all right, he thinks grumpily.
disciplewhomsignlessloves: (And hold me fast)

[personal profile] disciplewhomsignlessloves 2013-09-03 03:21 am (UTC)(link)
Disciple opted for the seat closest to the wall, awkwardly throwing the sash over her shoulder when it keeps sliding down. They said she looked good in it and she did admit that the gold tips on her horns were visually striking, but she didn't like wearing such odd colors. Not to mention how long they made her sit still to straighten her hair.

She couldn't help staring occasionally at the boy opposite. The second coming, the moirail of Signless, she wanted to know more about him. Why had Signless gone off again--Oh right, because he liked to talk. She held the cup up for more soda and tilted her head at him.

"Karkat, correct?"

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and_my_pickaxe: (You've heard their lies enough.)

[personal profile] and_my_pickaxe 2013-09-03 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
Though Lin was not one of the Tributes seated around the head table, she felt dressed as if she could be. Clothed in a beaded gold shift with clean makeup, Lin poked and prodded her hair as she glanced about the room. Campfires weren't really her thing, but it wasn't as though she could get up and leave. If she had a Crowning - if she could ever be so lucky or so strong - hers would be considerably less tacky. Pigs on spits? A tiger pit? She kicked off a gold sandal and sighed, glancing about the room, feeling a little lonely. It was as though she were in a completely different time than the world with the inviting city lights and glamorous fashion that waited outside.

Though Lin rarely communicated in such a way, tonight her body language shouted 'please speak to me'. She attempted to catch the eye of nearly every person, Avox and Tribute alike, that passed her seat. At home she had pals with which to share her fickle nature, her love of parties and of celebrating success, and it hurt not having one that wasn't a fake faker like Venus.
formersurgeon: (listen)

[personal profile] formersurgeon 2013-09-03 05:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Joan was passing by when her eyes met Lin's, and the look on the woman's face made her pause. She looked lonely, and Joan wondered if she was new and didn't know anybody here yet.

"Hey. Do you mind if I join you?"

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shinyisfalse: (I will be sick right now)

Open to everyone!

[personal profile] shinyisfalse 2013-09-03 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
Peeta felt sick. There were things he could handle in the Capitol. Things he could handle that he had handled, and done it with a greater ease then most people would. There were times when it was tough to see, to understand why some of the Capitol citizens did what they did. It wasn't even how awful it was in comparison to what was going on in the districts. Drinking something to throw your food back up, just to eat more? When no one had enough food back home? It was terrible.

This, though. This was unbearable. This hit him on a level that he wasn't sure he had in him, that he had never considered he had in him.

This was just wrong. There didn't need to be any reasoning behind it, no comparison to a life elsewhere, to people who were hurt, to how awful it was here for some people. Nothing was needed for Peeta to know how utterly wrong it was.

He needed to get out of here. But he couldn't. And as he watched another one of the District 12 tribute holograms die from the tiger, he didn't know what to do. Peeta gripped hard on anything in reach, because last time when he tried to pick up his cup and drink from it, he was shaking too hard for that to happen.
inciting: (other//being crowned victor)

[personal profile] inciting 2013-09-03 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
Katniss has a face like stone as she watched the display play out, death after death. It wasn't real, and that should make it more palatable.

But it didn't.

There was something disturbing, obscene about this on a new level. A new way to make life and death shallow and meaningless.

Reaching out, she found Peeta's hand, laying hers over it. Impressed that her hand wasn't shaking. Swallowing, she tried to find some clever way of expressing what she wanted to say, some coded way, before giving up and just dropping her voice so only he could hear it.

"Disgusting."

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Re: Open to everyone!

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pythianjudgment: ([d] my life is difficult)

ota

[personal profile] pythianjudgment 2013-09-03 02:35 am (UTC)(link)
Terezi is probably not the most likely candidate for Does Not Want To be Here, but she is certainly in the running for the competition. She thought that she had it good with her Stylist. She thought they had an understanding. She obviously thought wrong.

Despite her best behavior, the poor troll is dressed in a very scantily-clad outfit (minus the head-dress) that somehow resembles something battle-worthy. It isn't actually, but practicality wasn't on the menu when the designs were being made. The gold and red accents blended into the setting just fine, but the teal sticks out like a sore thumb. She's never hated the color so much in her life.

It may be a party, but Terezi doesn't seem much in the mood for it when she's dressed like this. She sits at a fire, trying to make the most of the scrap of fabric over her legs and the bit of cape behind her.
Edited 2013-09-03 02:35 (UTC)
sleeplessinalternia: (76 Walking with your head in a sling)

Re: ota

[personal profile] sleeplessinalternia 2013-09-03 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
If there's anything good about the outfit, it's helping distract Karkat from the tiger. He keeps sneaking glances at her when she isn't looking, then flushing and looking away when she turns her head.

He's still furious at her. He's not entirely sure if he hates her yet or still pities her--or what kind of hate he feels if he does--but that doesn't matter right now. He can't not look at her when she's dressed like that.

It's probably good they aren't at the same firepit.

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just ignore him

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Re: ota

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retrieverchef: content (content)

[personal profile] retrieverchef 2013-09-03 02:57 am (UTC)(link)
Eliot relaxed in his seat by the fire pit. Or he appeared to relax, anyway, smiling at the women seated at the tables. He seemed completely comfortable in the shirtless gladiator costume he'd been dressed in. He ignored the tiger and the holograms, appearing more interested in watching the Victor's table. It was an act, of course, hiding his constant awareness of his surroundings. These coronations had proved to be less than secure in the past. If the same happened again this time, he'd be ready to keep his family safe.
tis_allgood: (Default)

OTA - mostly around the victor's table

[personal profile] tis_allgood 2013-09-03 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
Despite his tension over the tiger in the middle of the pit, Cuthbert was enjoying himself so far. He had been invited to dine with the guest of honor and he took that as a sign that he was doing well in the Capitol. He may not have chosen this for himself, but if he had to be here, he wanted to be on top. His stylist had given him something skimpy to wear and he was doing his best to not let the whole thing come undone around him.
splendid_roman: (Adjusting his toga)

Re: OTA - mostly around the victor's table

[personal profile] splendid_roman 2013-09-04 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)
"I don't know why they feel the need to make us show so much flesh," Ian commented from nearby. His outfit wasn't quite so bad - more of him was covered at any rate, even if he was effectively wearing a skirt. "This is hardly the place to show off."

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