thecapitol | The Crowning of Maximus Decimus Meridius

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Why would she want to keep such a thing a secret though, he wonders? And the answer is there ain't no reason to. Death was death. It up and motherfuckin happened to all and that was no secret.

He studies her face. There was something more going on. And she wanted... to tell him of all people.

She trusted him.

"Secrets... are of the holiest bit of scripture what I hold to." It's an honest answer.

There's a silence that follows his answer, a silence in which she sits judging that response. In the end, she nods. She still has to be careful how much she tells him, but she trusts him enough to tell him a little.

"When they brought me to this place, I wasn't on Alternia. I haven't been there for over half a sweep now. There was... a crisis, I guess you could call it. Meteors were pummeling the homeworld. There were twelve of us taking measures to stop them, but in order to complete the process, we had to leave the...dimension that we were in. There's no way back, so... We're never going back to Alternia again."

She should be used to that thought by now, but it still triggers a pang of homesickness in her chest. She clenches her fists, pressing the heels of her hands against her thighs.

There wasn't exactly a guide for how to react to such things.

There are too many things at once to process, to many things to question. A part of him reminds him to sceptical, weary. But he's... he's exhilarated. He feels. Motherfucking. Justified.

"IF YOU ARE FUCKING WITH ME I SWEAR TO THE MESSIAHS..."

The prophesies foretold. They were coming true. They had. And the voices. The Messiahs two that sung sometimes into his pan, with voices silent and loud both, with voices like the drip of color on a wall...

A laugh slips out. Then another. But no. He had to... His hands clap together.

"Rite of the ticket taker,
O THY NAME, THY SONANCE SWEET,
a call of minstrel WITH UTMOST VOCIFERATION,
emancipation of the soul LET NO MILENKO TEMPT,
no motherfucking riddle box betray FOR WHAT IS NOW,
What has made means to motherfucking come,
LET BROTHER AND SISTER GATHER FOR THE BOW OF THIRD RING.
The wicked laughing lights evince the WINCE OF THE UNWORTHY BUT WITH the face of the joyous and most pious a watch as the audience do so watch thy righteous performance and let it be that their face IS their motherfucking COUNTENANCE.
O GLORY OF THE WIRE HIGH, the laughsassin's swung upon the grief trapeeze and so SWUNG THE FUCK TO US WAS OUR DELIVERANCE.
With elixirs drenched we reach to thy most righteous glory OFFERING TO THE THE STARDUST WHAT WAS SO OFFERED BACK ON UP AT TO US.
The light may laugh wicked on; LET THE DARK be of the great top.
LET THE DARK MOTHERFUCKING CARNIVAL OPEN ITS GATES ON NIGH!
And so may Shangri-La be reached.
I OFFER THEE MY SOUL AND MY MOTHERFUCKING SELF WHOLE FOR IT IS THY THAT IS MY KEEPER, MY DELIVERER... Ay men."

He turns to her, eyes bright like so many lights were lit behind them.

"YOU HAVE BEEN BLESSED MY SISTER. My motherfucking sister sweet you have had blessing upon your motherfucking self. YOU DO NOT SEE IT YET." He laughs at the pun. "But that is all up and motherfucking understood. NOT OF THE RIGHTEOUS, you sorry soul, not of the motherfucking righteous yet. BUT YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN GIFT REGARDLESS. And you will see so with time."

At first, the prayers and the excitement are met with confusion. She doesn't know what exactly has him worked up about all of that. She sits through the prayer with a skeptical look that she usually reserves for clown nonsense... up until he starts addressing her directly.

She's not even forcing a smile anymore. Her lips are pressed tight together, displeasure set into her jaw.

"Right. Blessed," she remarks when he's finished. "Sorry, I must be too blind to see how all the shit we've been through is actually some god-given privilege! I'm sure your delight in our misfortune is justified, though. Somehow."

Her expression does look briefly miserable before she turns away from him, breaking the physical contact they had before. "Do me a favor. Don't bring your clown stuff into this. I've heard enough of it already."

Atheist. He should've known. He scowls and shifts to kneeling before her.

"FINE. Discard as you so do. BUT MY MOTHERFUCKING POINT STILL STANDS. You are alive. YOU HAVE BEEN MADE STRONGER FOR WHAT ALL IT IS YOU'VE DONE. What all it is you've been through. YOU THINK ANY GIFT IS GIVEN EASY? You think I will and did become Highblood by asking the motherfucker to step the fuck down and let me hold his seat for him? YOU THINK AT ANYTHING WHAT'S WORTH ANYTHING AIN'T FUCKING FOUGHT FOR? Pyrope, FACE ME." He raises a hand to the side of her face and attempts to tilt it toward him just a little.

"You're going to take something from that. BEYOND ALL WHAT HAS BEEN GIVEN ALREADY. You've gotten a chance. SO YOU GET NO MOTHERFUCKING TRAINING FOR THE EMPIRE. So the fuck what? YOU'VE FOUND AT A NEW SORT OF TRAINING, a new purpose what to reach and all what is to be needed is the strength and faith to reach it. AND IF YOU CAN FIND NO MIRACLE IN THAT..." He shakes his head and throws his hands up.

Terezi was pretty content on just ignoring his bullshit, right up until he touches her face. She knows that physical contact isn't his cup of tea, so the hand at her cheek startles her enough to pull her attention back to him. Carefully, she sets her jaw again, staring him down with a deadpan look. She takes his hand in hers and pulls it gently away from her face.

"Do you really think that's the only thing I'm upset about? Sure, it sucks to have my plans yanked out from under me, but I'll get over it." She moves his hand back to his own lap, setting it against his knee.

"What I won't get over, what I can't get over has nothing to do with that and everything to do with your Shangrila bullshit. Considering the last time some Indigo asshole preached miracles at me, it was right after he slaughtered two of our friends in cold blood, you'll have to forgive me if I'm not eager to hop into the passenger seat of your mirthful clown car. They didn't do anything to deserve that. There was no rhyme or reason to it. There was nothing miraculous about it. So just... stop. I don't want to hear about it any more."

He stares at her for a long moment, expression twisting. He doesn't understand. Since he met her he hasn't been able to wrap his head entirely around the way and why of everything she did and chose to do. But this is different.

He should've known. He should've motherfucking known, he should've never...

"... Then why would you try with me. I AM AN INDIGO. I am faithful to the Messiahs and I have motherfucking culled and not once haven't I been up motherfucking front with that. WHAT ALL DID YOU UP AND EXPECT OF ME? What all the fuck did you up and want? TO BE LIKE THE SIGNLESS AND HIS LOT?! Tell me now, because I will not continue playing these motherfucking games."

"I tried with you because the last time I checked, your name wasn't Gamzee."

She should have expected this reaction from him, but she's just not used to being second guessed at so much. How many times has she had to explain things like this to him, to counter his immediate suspicions? Certainly more than most people would put up with. Luckily, she's not most people.

"The only thing that I'm expecting from you is to be honest with me. Which you have been. Do you really think that I haven't been paying attention these past few months? That I wasn't keeping track of the things you did and said around me?..."

Her hand still sits near his, and she contemplates it for a moment before resting her fingers very lightly over his.

"You're not the same kind of person that he is; You won't stab me in the back. If anything, it was admirable how loyal to your word you were, and that's all that I care about. Your sign, your caste, and your religion don't mean anything to me in that regard."

"YOU DON'T EVEN MOTHERFUCKING MY NAME," He says, and it might be a tease if he put the energy into it. He stares down at her hand on his. He doesn't pull back.

"Can keep a secret. CAN'T SAY I WON'T BE WHAT ALL THE FUCK WHAT I AM. She wants at to bring me into it she'll have to expect carnival to follow. SO IF A SISTER AIN'T REALLY THINK AT A MOTHERFUCKING PAIR TO BE THE SAME... then don't."

He doesn't know what reasons his descendent would have for killing two random people he didn't care for. He's not sure that she really knows either. But he's not exactly about to get inquisition on for it. it doesn't matter to him too much that another should decide to cull.

"WASN'T TRYING TO MAKE YOU A FUCKING BELIEVER. Was telling at she to count for what motherfucking gifts she had. THINK AT IF SHE TRIED TO TAKE UP THE PAINT SHE'D BE IN DEFIANCE OF SOME NATURAL LAW. So rest fucking assured."

Even with her mood, that last bit pulls an unwilling smile onto her lips. She presses the heel of her free hand to her mouth, but it's no use hiding it at this point.

"I think that if I ever took up paint," she mutters past her hand, "I would find a way to legally disown myself." She's not sure exactly how that would work, but it's pretty much a given that she would figure it out if the unthinkable ever happened.

"I guess you're right." She feigns a face at that admittance, like swallowing a sour candy. "I did get something out of it that I wouldn't have otherwise. I just don't know if it's really that important anymore. Or if I even remember how to use it."

"WASTE MOTHERFUCKING NOT," He says with a shrug. "You got at something what can be used, learn for how to use it. MAKE IT IMPORTANT."

"Easier said than done," she mutters, giving him a long look. She debates making a dig about his sudden penchant for wisdom and advice, but decides against it. They've already had one brief argument. She doesn't feel like stirring up another so soon.

"...Your voodoos don't work here, right? Well, neither does my Sight."

Edited 2013-09-04 06:21 (UTC)

"Your... sight..." He repeats slowly. There are a number of comments he could make there. Its quite a temptation to try and resist. He has to weigh whether to speak or if he ought to bite his tongue.

"...THEY DID TAKE HIS VOODOO, YES..." He purses his lips. Then, he sighs. "Sister, you're going at to have to up and get explanation further for what all the fuck you mean." Because no motherfucking shit your sight doesn't work, he doesn't say but leaves fully implied.

The look that Terezi gives him back is almost identical. "Sight. With a capital S." Not that he had any way of knowing that, but it seemed pretty obvious to her that she wasn't talking about normal seeing.

"At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite... I was a Seer. You know, cryptic future-telling bullshit." She neglects the word 'prophecy' from that explanation on purpose, even though it's sort of fitting, given the mythological nonsense that was tailored to her.

He imagines she didn't mean it to refer to her blindness but there was no way he was going to be able to listen seriously without it properly clarified.

He raises a brow in surprise though. "SHE UP AND GOT AT A MOTHERFUCKING AWAKENING TO NEW ABILITY OF AUGURING?" Well that was fucking impressive. Most trolls didn't wake up to powers over day far as he knew. Not to ones they didn't already have. "You strong with it?"

Terezi shrugs a little and pulls on her half cape uncomfortably. "I used to be. Like I said, I haven't tried in a while. It seemed kind of pointless back then."

You didn't really need two Seers, after all. One was more than enough.

He makes a face. She had witness to the prophesies of the future. And she calls it pointless. Calls it pointless and hides. There was so much wrong with that.

"GIRL. That's fucking stupid," He says bluntly. "YOU CAN THINK OF ONLY ONE GOOD THING WHAT TO BE GAINED AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN MAKE TO TAKE ADVANTAGE?" Did she really think that they'd always be without what was lost? He knew they could give power back, he'd heard they'd done so in past arenas. The use it could have then. The use it would have when it was truly returned to them, and it would be returned, one way or other. "What all even got that up in your pan, a motherfucker wonders."

Edited 2013-09-05 02:35 (UTC)

Terezi purses her lips at his chiding. "If you really have to know, there wasn't much advantage to take at the time. That's the beauty of a sweep-and-a-half long trip through endless space! There's not much use for foresight when it's pretty obvious what you're going to be doing: More drifting through space."

She settles back against the pillar, resting her head back on the stone. "...Besides. Even if we had anything to look for, Rose had it covered. Seer of Light trumps Seer of Mind, et cetera, et cetera. Not that you know what that means. But, sure. If we actually do get our abilities back, then I'll give it another shot. We can fuck around with predetermination until it doesn't know which way is up."

This is ridiculous. He can't believe this. She acted so goddamn full of it all the time and now this.

"PYROPE, HOW WOULD YOU EVEN UP AND FIGURE AT THERE WEREN'T TO BE NEED FOR IT IF YOU ALREADY GOT AT UP AND MOTHERFUCKING DECIDING YOU AIN'T GOT INTENT TO USE BECAUSE YOU SEE AT NO NEED? You got an ability what's all meant at to be used for something. EVEN IF IT WEREN'T AT TO SEEING MUCH YOU DON'T THINK AT PRACTICE COUNTS FOR SHIT? And fuck you if you call at what I speak on count of being blind," He growls before she can even try to poke at it.

"SHE'S RIGHT I AIN'T GOT TO KNOWING WHAT ALL THAT MEANS BUT IT STILL SOUNDS AT TO BE HOOFBEASTSHIT. Why would having one make for another less useful? THE..." He makes a face. " THE EMPRESS AIN'T UP AND RUNNING SHIT ON HER OWN--" impious, fish bitch "--SELF AS HE HAS REMINDED A PYROPE. Messiahs too come in twos. AS DO MANY MOTHERFUCKING THINGS."

He has a lot questions. A lot of inquiry strung up in his pan. But mostly he's exasperated. He always is with her but this feels of a different sort and he doens't much like it either. He huffs.

"A brother just don't get at why you would take a thing, what's being the only thing what all you would call good and throw it the fuck away because some other ungratefuls are too fucking stupid to see for worth up in it. A SISTER KNOWS AT THERE TO BE WORTH OR ELSE SHE WOULDN'T HAVE MADE MENTION FOR IT. Sounds at she threw away a little more than what all she says."

There's something about what he's saying that rubs Terezi the wrong way. She's not sure what it is or why it even bothers her. Maybe it's the way he's talking, like he knows what it was like out there--the way he assumes that it was just a matter of making her abilities be important instead of accepting that they were unnecessary. Maybe it's the way the last part sticks to her, ringing a little too true to her ears. If she could really admit it to herself, her abilities weren't the only things that she felt were unnecessary on that meteor.

"I said I would give it a shot, didn't I?" There's a certain defensiveness in her tone now. She doesn't want to give him the impression that he hit a nerve, but it's hard to just ignore him going on like that. "What else do you want from me?"

"I DON'T." He looks at her intently. "'Cept maybe at for a sister to listen on for what all he's meaning to motherfucking say. WASN'T MAKING COMMENT AT THE USE OF ALL IT WOULD BE TO ME. Was trying to show for what good all she could be motherfucking taking at for her ownself. THAT HER OWNSELF COULD UP AND MAKE FOR WHAT ALL GOOD SHE WANTS. You ain't dull-nugged, this brother knows that. SO THINK ON IT."

There was worth to even punishments. There worth to learning from both sin and mistake. He's just about jealous that she got to experience what he believes she did. It didn't matter if she didn't like it. He knew there had been things she had gained.

She would try though and to that he says, "Good then. EXPECT AT TO SEE A GREAT MOTHERFUCKING THING IN HER EFFORTS."

The silence stretches on between them as Terezi turns his words over in her mind. It occurs to her that he's trying to be...encouraging? And she isn't really sure what to think of that.

She pulls at her cape awkwardly, adjusting it in a way that lets her stall for time.

"I'll...keep that in mind." There's still a little uncertainty in her tone, but she means it. Even if it doesn't change her conclusions, she'll at least give another thought to the usefulness of her precognition... and of herself.

Gently, she pushes at him with her foot, a playful sort of nudge to lighten the mood. She pulls a bit of a cocky smile back onto her lips. "Could you imagine, though? Your voodoo and my Sight. No one would be able to touch us."

His grin grows wide and feral, fangs exposed. "Sister. WE COULD MOTHERFUCKING ERADICATE. We could raze every and fucking all. YOU EVER FELT FOR THE CRACKS ALONG A FUCKER'S PAN? We won't need at to touch them." The image is certainly something. He wants his voodoo back so bad. He'd have rather'd they take a limb even. He's starting to get used to only feeling for his own head but it's not really any more comfortable.

He gives a light shove back. Then, shuffling over, he decides to try and peak out from behind the pillar, just to check who else might be here. Everyone of course. Fuck. He tugs again at his hair, too short against his neck. Among things he'd have rather done; paint a target on his chest. Wriggler for cull. He settles back against the pillar, and idly picks at the shoes they shoved him in.

Felt for them? She's pried them apart with words alone. She's dismantled trolls with far less than voodoo could provide her, but she doesn't mention that. It's better to just let him find out that for himself. Instead, she just grins back at him--right up until she notices him pulling at his hair.

She sniffs at him, really assessing the difference in his appearance and moreso the difference in his attitude.

"It's not terrible, you know." She leans against him again, arm-to-arm, and pulls lightly on a rogue lock near their touching shoulders. "I don't know why you keep messing with it."

Edited 2013-09-06 17:27 (UTC)

He makes a face, still tugging at it. "IT'S MOTHERFUCKING EXPOSING. Ain't used to having neck and back uncovered all like to give easier means of getting motherfucking slashed. AND..." He sighs. "I look like a wriggler." Which of course gave even more reason for them to try, thinking he's younger, weaker, thinking he hasn't the means to do what he knows he can. It makes him feel like it. "HADN'T BEEN SO SHORT IN SWEEPS..."

He glances over at her. "What of you? WHAT GOT AT SHE TO BE HANGING ROUND AT BEHIND HERE?"

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