The Crowning of Maximus Decimus Meridius

[gamemakers]

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.

Comments

[gardienne]

"You had no reason to attack me in the arena, either, Sir. I did not attack you."

She stared back, mimicking his posture.

"You attacked me over nothing - how am I to know that you do not do that here too? I had no food. You would gain nothing by hitting me, for it must have been obvious even to a monster that I would not survive long in an arena."

[polyturtle]

"I did have reason." His voice is a little quieter, though still cold. "This is the Hunger Games, and we are Tributes. That is our only purpose here. To be Tributes. To do what Tributes do, when we were in the Arena, and when we're in the Capitol."

There was a popping sound from one of the nearby fire pits as Don continued.

"In the Arena, our purpose is to fight, die, or die fighting. That I'd gain nothing, and that you wouldn't survive long, was besides the point. That you're weaker or not as high scoring was besides the point. You are a Tribute and you were there, so a fight was inevitable. I'd intended it to be quick - I just hadn't known Parker was with you. Had that not been the case, your death...would have been much less gruesome than it was. I intended to knock you out, and your neck would have simply been snapped. When you died, you would have felt nothing."

He was likely pouring salt on the wound, regarding how she'd ended up dying. If that was what he had to say to explain his point, then fine.

"Here in the Capitol, our purpose is to make sure we have what we need to last as long as we can - training, Sponsors, an audience interested in us. That means we must make the Capitol like us. So, even if I had any true desire to hurt you in the Arena beyond it being the purpose of a Tribute, I wouldn't risk my future chances in the Arena for something so petty."

At this, he looked at the tiger.

"You can think I'm a monster. That's fine. The truth is, we all are, by reason of our existence here, and our purpose as Tributes. If anyone tries to tell you or I otherwise...they are deluding themselves."

[gardienne]

"Don't you think that there is another option for us, Sir?"

Everyone had told her - have hope, have hope for a better life. Have hope that things can change. In Paris, any hope had long been beaten out of her; she could only dream. But here, in this place where dreams came true, she had begun to dare to hope all over again.

"If none of us fought, then none of us would die. They could do nothing, Sir. They could do nothing and we would be allowed to stay here, in the Capitol - wouldn't we? We could just... stay here, and be happy. Do you not see, Sir? Is it not true, Sir?"

Her face twisted into a sour grimace as he spoke of her death, of what he intended. Of course she was no stranger to dying. She had been quite used to the idea even before she had come to Panem: between Montparnasse and her father and the harsh conditions she lived in, she knew she would be dead soon. But it was another thing all together to hear someone tell her how they had plotted her death.

"Perhaps then, Monsieur, I ought to apologise to you - to thank you for being so merciful. To thank you as Monsieur Maximus would have me thank him for chopping my head off so that the zombie did not eat me alive. But no. I will not thank you. I do not care for training or sponsors or anything else. I do not think it is a delusion. I thought, before, that death would be okay. I thought to let them do as they wish to me. But no. That is wrong and I think perhaps that you are wrong. It is like in Paris - they tell us all to get a job and then we shall not starve - here, it is murder and you shall win. Well, in Paris, there were no jobs to have, and the ones that were there did not want women such as I. It is impossible to win - and it is impossible to win these games. Not truly. Monsieur Maximus will still live with us, still be part of it. No, Monsieur. I have murdered one boy and I will not murder again. You are wrong, and the Capitol is wrong and that man -"

She gestured at Snow.

"He is stupid. He is like our king - he cannot see. Stupid."

[polyturtle]

"...No. That isn't how the Capitol works."

He wasn't being argumentative, and the lack of emotion spoke to it. Still, though there is that gleam in his eyes which had been there during the Arena, there was a quiet logic which crept in his voice. As if such thoughts may have crossed his mind, at one point.

"The Capitol won't simply let you stay here if you refuse to fight. That's not how it works. We are gladiators. Gladiators fight to the death. Because of that they will keep putting us out in the Arena until the audience gets bored with us."

At this, he looked over at Snow, his eyes narrowed just a little more. Its a movement easily mistaken for squinting to see the president better.

"This is not like Paris. Whatever time you may have come from, it is very different from here. Your king didn't have this level of technology at his disposal." Then, his eyes trailed up the ceiling. "Here, the world is watching us. There are cameras throughout this city, the Arenas, and where they have us live. The president and his men can see nearly everything that happens. And he will hear of everything we say and do right now, even if he can't right now."

A pause. He doesn't bother with mentioning the cloning. He'd end up rambling like a madman if he did, even if it was now known that that had to be what the Capitol was doing.

"They'll keep putting you in the Arena, just like all of us. If you don't like it, they don't care. If you refuse or try to fight, they'll bring in the people you know from home, if they haven't, so you can watch them die. They'll shame you into conforming. They'll cuff you. If none of that works, they will torture you. They will break you. And then, they will kill you to prove their point. If you think you're in misery now, they will make it a hundred times worse to make their point."

At this, he looked back at Eponine, a slight hardening of his expression.

"I don't expect thanks for what I did. Death is death; I'm not someone who relishes in it, when I have to do it. If you want to hate me for that, or to hate me for what I'm saying now, that's fine. But like I said...I won't delude myself anymore."

[gardienne]

"There are ways other than fighting that will keep you alive. You cannot tell me that is the only reason we are here, that people such as I are here."

She shrugged. Her tone, though confrontational, wasn't particularly aggressive. She recognised the resignation in Don; it was something she felt herself a lot of the time. Resigned to being unloved. Resigned to her own mortality. Resigned to the idea that she would have to do things she hated to get through a day. It was her own morality which prevented her from killing. It was the only 'virtue' left to her, as far as she could see.

"People like me - you cannot believe that I was brought in to fight. Against men, and - are you a monster? well, against people like you, how am I to win? In Paris, I had things to threaten to stop them killing me - but here, no. People like me, they bring us in to be killed so they can laugh at me. Well, I shan't have them laugh at me any more. I think THAT is a delusion."

She glared again at the President. "He has brought in my brother, Gavroche. Only a child, as big as Mademoiselle Pruna. Only he is gone now. And my... well, the Monsieurs Enjolras and Marius are from my home. But what can they do? I do not care for them and they certainly do not care for me."

That was a lie. She blatantly cared for Marius. There he was, a few seats down, and she gazed longingly at his profile.

"I am not afraid of torture. I have been hurt before. And I am not afraid of death. I will take my chances. But you know,"

She turned back to Don, her expression resolute. "You will NOT come near me in the next arena. You will NOT. And you will not go near Monsieur Enjolras, or Monsieur Marius or Sigma or Howard. Do you understand? You do not touch Madame Mona or Madame Parker. Not even a nudge. Because if you do, I will make sure that you are upset as well. Do we understand each other, Monsieur?"

She was trying her best to sound official, to sound as if she had a plan in her mind. It was a technique she used often with the Patron Minette, and a threat that often worked. Did it work now? Probably not. But perhaps it would make him at least think, to worry a little, to avoid them for a little while.

[polyturtle]

He stared back at her, uncowed.

"We will see."

He was not attached. Maybe, a little, to Marius. But all those he had truly cared for were gone. There was little to hold him back. And whether Eponine believed he did it to win, well. He didn't know. He didn't care. It wasn't the winning that mattered either.

With that, he turned to leave.