thecapitol | The Crowning Of Clara Murphy

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The Crowning Of Clara Murphy

Who| Everyone.
What| The Crowning of Clara Murphy
Where| A refurbished former-medical building within Capitol.
When| Starting from late afternoon, going into the evening and late night.
Warnings/Notes| Don't forget, peacekeepers are on high alert and will notice any rebellious activity or odd behaviour.

The theme of the ceremony is corruption and dystopia, with a distinct nod to futuristic aspects and, of course, robots. The room is stark, clean, and foreboding, all done in metallics, crisp whites, and the occasional bit of robotics set up as art. It speaks as an unholy cross between a medical office, a military base, and an extremely well kept prison.

The ceremony is both a chance for Capitolites to have fun and be grateful for the grand and glorious Panem which in no way exemplifies any attributes of dystopia, while also working as a not so subtle reminder to the troublemakers out there of what can happen when things get out of line. Which they surely won't, with all the peacekeepers around.

Tributes are dressed in all manner of thing incorporating chains, rope, caution tape, muzzles, bars and cages, prison stripes, and uniform orange-- all things reminiscent of imprisonment and restriction. Some tributes may be made to look scuffed up, like cartoon-ish depictions of hardened thugs. There are a few references to robotics, and that of evil and corrupt military men and police officers, but all tributes will be marked by some manner of cuff or chain that clearly denotes them as “criminals”.

They’ll also be given a “prison number” that is actually indicative of their district association and an arbitrary letter next to it, for example, someone from district six will have 06 and the first letter of their name. It will be temporarily tattooed somewhere visible on their skin. It can be washed off but it will take more scrubbing than would be done in a single day, let alone a crowning.

The only exceptions to these rules, are those who have been brought to the winner’s table; all those who can be deemed as cyborgs, scientists, and of course, the victor herself. Her throne sits at the head of the table, a robotic contraption that appears almost as though it might encase her. For a crown, Clara has been given one that seems to bear resemblance to a white picket fence, which, when made into a crown, looks far sharper than the idyllic home setting it’s meant to represent.

Avoxes are all dressed as members of the corrupt Detroit military police. The uniforms are naturally given a more sinister edge. None of them are comfortable. All of them are serving “Detriotto” staple foods.

Around the crowning, flat hologram projections of hockey games can be seen. They show the games of a team called “The Rouge Wings” and alternate that with the less spectacular showings of what appears to be a young boy’s hockey team. Commercials fill the times between promoting the work of Capitol’s peacekeepers, showing appreciation for them on an individual level, encouraging obedience in citizens with pleasant clips of peacekeepers speaking to children, and suggesting recruitment in the truly good and noble of Panem. Capitolites may nod along to these as they giggle at the sight of decorative signs, that are most certainly from Clara’s lesser world, about obeying, consuming, and so on, to a less than favourable government. A few posters feature Clara Murphy’s face in four colour palettes, all humorous jabs at dystopia proclaiming; “MOTHER MURPHY IS WATCHING YOU”.

But hockey games are not the only things that can be seen on the projection screens; if tributes take the time to look, they may see their own face projected above in profile and facing forward views like that of mug shots. Though, how the capitol has managed to get these pictures may be entirely a mystery. Besides these mugshots, criminal records are displayed, listing crimes from “lied to their parents” to petty theft to murder. Whether these records are true or not may be up for much debate.

In the mean time, there are plenty of things for party go-ers to do, such as take part in the David For A Day egg and spoon race, in which tributes will all have a chance to dress up (with wigs and matching clothing of all sizes!) as the mysterious David, compete against others, and should they win, be dubbed David For A Day, winning themselves a banner they can wear and a spot at the victor table.

There is also an obstacle course available dubbed the "Clarence Boddicker Memorial Prison Funhouse" designed to look, you guessed it, like a prison. Fun for all ages and demeanours!

For those looking for retreat, there’s a small section cut away from it all, designed to be a pleasant backyard patio setting opened to a starry night sky and small surrounding garden, in stark contrast to the rest of the place. There’s a small area for dancing in, that can really only accommodate one couple at a time, but is nevertheless perfect for a romantic scene. Only two songs play over speakers here, one perfectly fitting, the other a little more jarring. It’s also here that party go-ers can get their picture taken with a life sized ED-209. Many more much smaller ED-209’s can be seen around and within the crowning party. As well as the occasional roomba, which fans of the last arena will surely get a chuckle out of.

As the crowning nears it’s end, those at the victor’s table will be given paintball guns filled up with red paint. They will be ordered to bring the criminals to justice! The criminals being all the other tributes. Those hit with paint will be made to wait within the Memorial Prison Funhouse until all the criminals are apprehended and forced to do their time! No one will be allowed to go back to the tribute tower until all the criminals are caught.

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Dave's not the only one who's surprised given Clara's general housewifey demeanor, but Albert watched the footage and generally approves of the turnout, even if he wishes Carlos hadn't had to have been the one to off himself. That's a terrifying thing to do, even if you're mostly sure you'll come back. Or maybe more terrifying if you know you'll come back.

He's musing through these dour thoughts when Dave comes skating into his field of vision, as limited as that is in his pointless visor, back to him and snaps a photo of the both of them at an odd angle. Albert's eyebrows disappear into his hair in surprise, but before Dave can dash off again, the much taller man snags the camera with a mildly irritated air.

"Generally it's considered polite to ask before taking a photo." It seems someone is too old and too much of a stick in the mud to know what a selfie is.

Albert is someone who has pinged on Dave's radar before, but he's never quite had the chance to approach him. Partly because he's a little awkward and partly because their social circles only just graze against one another. This is the beauty of crownings. Opportune moments for unlikely approaches and also to snap pictures of grumpy looking people you've never seen before.

He was so close, victory was just within reach and now it's being pulled away from his fingers. Or at least, his camera is. He snatches at it before his shoulders slump and he gives Albert the most despondent expression.

"Candid photos capture the moment. I am in supply of more genuine emotion via deer-in-the-headlight expressions than anyone ever thought possible." He points up at the camera to indicate where all of those expressions are. "But fine, here. Hello sir, would you like to take a spontaneous photo so as to make a memory?"

He just looks at Dave with a deep frown for a moment. Does that look like the face of a man who wants his pantsless costume on film record for the rest of eternity? No. No it does not.

But there are so many cameras around already and pretty much everyone is at the crowning so really who is he fooling. Albert sighs heavily and returns Dave's camera. "I don't see the appeal to candid shots if you're embarrassing perfect strangers."

Kids these days.

This one, though, this is Dave Strider if he's not mistaken. Eponine had mentioned him in a negative light. While Albert has some strangely parental feelings towards the Thenardier girl, he's fairly certain Dave isn't plotting against anyone unless it's to sell candid photos to Capitolite fops. "You're Dave, aren't you?"

The monumentally embarrassing moments are worth savouring, Albert. Some day, they will look back on all of this humiliation and laugh. Probably. Maybe not, actually. But at least they will have photos to bitch about when it reaches that point.

Dave takes the camera wordlessly, with an unfortunate lack of manners that he's not yet gathered the brain meats to use. Of course, he's not entirely unaware that his reputation proceeds him but he definitely isn't aware that the source is Eponine.

"It's art." He justifies finally, with a nod that implies some amount of conviction in his words. "Sure. That's what they tell me." He has no idea what a straight answer is. "What gave me away?"

"Art," he parrots with a tone that ensures he knows what art is, thank you, and this definitely isn't it. But he lets it go. what's the point in arguing with a child?

"Your face, mostly." Albert motions to the mug shot flashing across one of the screens. "That and you've apparently made quite an impression on other people I'm acquainted with."

He feels badly that he hesitates to call Eponine a 'friend', she's sweet somewhere under the layers of terrible upbringing and apparent histrionic psychosis, but he just can't manage to use the word. That and Tony he wouldn't quite term a friend either and he's the other 'person' in question that had been looking for Dave recently. It's more the relationship - or lack there of - with Eponine that he's curious about though.

"I share a district with Eponine. She seemed quite afraid of you during the last arena."

With that argument dismissed, Dave takes it as a victory. He's glad he didn't have to get insufferable with someone who looks like they could lift him up and torpedo him into the food tables. Not that the change of subject is proving to be much better, of course.

"Foiled again." He observes with an arched brow when his face flashes up along with his list of petty, out of context crimes. It's the other thing Albert says that has him both curious and a little worried with good reason. He could be talking about anyone, of course, but when he clarifies that it's Eponine he can't help the way his gut clenches.

"Right, Eponine." He says that in a way that affirms their tumultuous relationship, moving to fold his arms low over his chest. "Look, she's really eager to make me the bad guy in all of this so I don't want to make this a he-said she-said kind of deal, but I gotta wonder what she told you exactly because it was probably at least a hundred percent a lie."

Albert would ever torpedo a kid into the food tables, even one as patience-trying as Dave. What sort of person do you think he is? Just because he's 5'10' and shaped distinctly like a buff dorito. That's discrimination. Shame on you.

The crimes he doesn't take seriously - it's difficult to when his own list includes penguin impersonation - but regarding Eponine's assessment, he feels he needs to make an unbiased one of his own. He says he doesn't want to make it a case of one word over another, but then goes on to say she's lying so Albert's pretty sure he wants his side heard. "Alright, then tell me what actually happened."

Hey, man. If people can shoehorn kids into being annoying, bratty and obnoxious then- oh wait, he fits that description perfectly. Maybe he's a little bit of a hypocrite.

Dave opens his mouth when Albert asks the ever important question, as if about to sincerely answer before he catches himself and snaps it shut again. He doesn't really know this guy, he doesn't exactly want to tell him everything about himself.

"It's complicated." Duh. He lets his shoulders sag a little in an effort to be chill about it. "Like. A stupidly long story. And a dumb one. I'm just gonna give you a moment to think about whether you really want to be involved in some real teen drama."

"Contrary to popular belief, I was a teenager once. I doubt what you say will surprise me." And if he can stick his foot in the middle of this mess and sort out whatever misconceptions went on, all the better.

Or he could just be curious and desperate for a distraction from the Crowning going on around them, take your pick.

"Well, if you're that eager to re-entrench yourself into the depths of misery and despair that is hormone fueled drama, be my guest. Just.." He raises his hands and circles them in the air in front of them as he searches for how to say his piece. If he doesn't want Eponine badmouthing him all over town, he needs to be forthcoming. It's just that he's the opposite of that in all aspects.

"I kissed her. While she was with Orc. Yes. I know." Now he's raising a hand to hush a thought that Albert hasn't verbalised. "We were gonna be a thing but.." He shrugs. "I got my ass stuffed into jail when they offed Orc and when she found me in the Arena she was a big ball of rage. Hissing and spitting and brandishing her skate at me, telling me I killed him or something like that." That was a lot of information to give to someone he just met, so he pauses and purses his lips for a moment before he speaks up. "So I dunno why she's scared of me."

The first thought Albert has is incredibly unkind towards both Dave and Eponine and so he keeps it to himself. He mulls this information over instead. It sounds like her, jumping to conclusions and losing her mind over something that by rights should be handled calmly. True, she's a teenager and this may be more a matter of hormones or the heart. He knows Eponine truly cared for Orc, knows she has imaginings of slights that she then blows out of proportion. Still, in this place, it's best to cover all the bases.

"Did you kill him? In an Arena previously?" The question carries the air of clarification, not of accusation.

Dave expects such thoughts, thus his instinctive need to hush Albert before he even knows whether he'll think something like that. He's well aware that he fucked up, he's acknowledged it, but Eponine likes to conveniently forget it.

"Nope. I barely even spoke to him." He tries to sound flippant, but it's still raw. He remembers their brief interactions vividly and he remembers Orc being a much nicer person than he tends to be. "What it boiled down to was her wanting me to take the blame for everything and then lashing out when that didn't happen. I've been working my ass off trying to fix it and she keeps throwing it back in my damn face."

Edited 2014-11-03 09:02 (UTC)

"Well, I can't condone going around kissing other men's girlfriends, but her response was certainly overwrought. She's... like that." It's not an excuse, more of an explanation, even if it's not much of that either. "I can talk to her if you like? Or mediate while you do."

Neither option promises resolution given Eponine's track record, but someone has to finally put their foot down with her. She's completely out of control and while given their situation it's to be expected - can anyone thrown in repeated death matches really be considered sane? - that's only to a point. It's time she learned to play nice, even if that means some tough love.

"She's a little mad. It's not her fault, it's more the time period and circumstances she came from, but to expect Eponine to be completely rational is something like expecting a tiger to have spots."

"Trust me, I don't condone it either. If I didn't get it before it all went dramatically horrible, I do now." He offers that willingly, without sounding terribly much like he's martyring himself, he hopes.

He shakes his head at the offer, even if he appreciates it. His expression looks a little apprehensive at the idea of it, tired even. "Maybe later I'll take you up on it. I'm not really up for it right now. Not for a while anyway." There's only so many times he can deal with being insulted from head to toe, he gets it enough from himself.

"I mean, if you want to talk to her I won't stop you. I kind of pointed my sister at her." He admits, drawing his arms in to fold them loosely over his chest. "She's a psychiatrist. Handling this sort of stuff is her shtick. Kind of seems like Eponine could use it."

"You're young, you're supposed to make those mistakes." As if that's supposed to be comforting and not condescending. It is the truth, though, as Albert sees it.

At Dave saying he's pointed a psychiatrist at Eponine, Albert's eyebrows are briefly visible over his visor. "Did you now? Well, I hope it does her some good instead of being simply an exercise in frustration for your sister."

He's going to guess it will be the latter. Eponine needs more than someone looking at her owlishly and asking her questions about how things make her feel. It's also entirely possible that Albert has very outmoded ideas of psychotherapy.

"Things don't generally get so dark so fast in Degrassi. But if there were ever a way to learn from a fuck up I think I might have hit the nail on the head." Someone dying usually lights a fire under your ass, anyway.

He can't help shifting a little when Albert raises a brow, like he should feel bad for think Eponine is crazy or for thinking he might know what's best for her. He really doesn't. He just has a hard time letting anyone leave his life when he came to form any sort of attachment to them.

"She's related to me, she's used to being frustrated. And a lot of other things, too." Life was pretty dark. "Figure it's better than letting her chase her own tail for who knows how long."

The television reference goes well over Albert's head, but there's something about the way Dave talks, so self deprecating especially for a teenager, that rubs Albert the wrong way. "Yes, I suppose."

He struggles a moment with what to say. "If your sister can help her, I hope she does, but if she can't then I don't exactly know what else to do with Eponine. Whatever faults you may actually have or whatever else she thinks you do, it's relatively impotent. Other than in the Arena, there's nothing she can do about it that won't hold harsh consequences."

Albert's fairly certain at this point they might even arrest her for spitting, even if she has been apparently trying to play nice with the Capitol. She's not particularly convincing. "Still, I'm curious as to where Elsa fits into all this. She mentioned you both in conjunction."

He doubts they plotted her death as she said, but it was the Arena so who knows.

Edited 2014-11-09 19:24 (UTC)

If Dave knew it were even being picked up on, he'd certainly stop. He has a hard time conveying the serious level of guilt he feels over this in a casual manner, so he's glad for any part of the conversation that doesn't directly shine a torch on those feelings.

"I'm not sure how many more harsh realities she's gonna get before that really dawns on her, because I'm pretty sure she's the only person who doesn't realise at this point." He agrees, casting a glance vaguely in the distance of the party without specifically seeking her out. When Albert asks his next question, he almost snaps his neck back into a position where he can look straight at Albert.

"She brought her into it?" It's hard not to sound exasperated. "I dunno. She's practically my sister at this point. She saw Eponine screaming at me and intervened, so of course Eponine started flinging her proverbial shit at her. Only Elsa doesn't take shit quite like I do, which pissed her off more, and she got personal. Again." He shrugs. "So I told her to back off, keep it between us, which she took to mean as me wanting to get in Elsa's pants." He trails into a mutter when he says that.

As Dave explains, Albert finds himself shaking his head and sighing with something akin to helpless annoyance. He's not sure why he suddenly feels at all responsible for Eponine, but this sort of thing makes him wish he could do something to stop her ridiculous tirades.

"She automatically assumes if a man is protecting a woman that he wants her in some form. It's... frankly I don't know if it's an effect of her time or just Eponine being the warped romantic she is at the core." He shakes his head again. "I'm sorry for her behavior. All I can really say is that... well, it doesn't exactly mean anything. She can't actually do anything about any of it, whether she's wrong or not. It's best to just leave her be. Maybe avoid her, I don't know."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, debating whether he's sorry for wading into this or not. "Her root problem isn't exactly something that can be fixed with a single conversation."

It seems as good a time as any to break into a heartfelt rendition of How Do We Solve a Problem Like Eponine, but that's neither here nor there. He wishes he'd seen the signs, he wishes he'd spoken to more people before he'd let himself be vulnerable, but he can't change the past. Not anymore, anyway.

"Probably should have considered the ramifications of trying to hook up with a girl from the past, to be honest." He shrugs, probably for the hundredth time, like it's his little way of keeping level. "Don't worry, I'm pretty aware of the fact that there's a screw loose there. Not your fault, not her fault. I'm not a mechanic though, so hell if I can fix it." He nods along, feeling for anyone as entrenched in this as he is. "Maybe if she could get out of Arenas? Only if she had someone watching her back in the Capitol, though. Otherwise it's moot." The real crazy murderers were on the outside, after all.

"I'm not sure that would help. Nor am I sure she could pass the interviews." As far as Albert understands, you have to be useful to the Capitol in some way to get out. Eponine's skill set consists of throwing tantrums, pick-pocketing, and spitting. Nothing terribly useful.

"Maybe it's best to just... distance yourself, let it go. I may say something if I think she'll mind me, but better to just diffuse the whole thing." Granted if they run into each other in the Arena again it may be a different story, but from what Albert understands, Eponine is more likely to do herself harm than anyone else.

He's really done talking about this, it's just sending them in circles. He assumes Dave is likely as done with it as he is. "Did you still want a picture? Now that we've actually had a conversation."

It's pretty heavy, but Dave doesn't have a rebuttal. It's hard to admit she's entirely out of his depth for helping. Sure, he's been through some crazy stuff, but even this is beyond him. He falls silent, nodding along with an engaged expression. He agrees, he just wishes he didn't have to.

"Yeah." He says finally, so Albert doesn't think he's being dismissed. It's been difficult opening up with a stranger as it is, so he'll take the chance to close that book for the moment.

"Huh-" He seems confused for a moment, then he perks up when he remembers. "Oh, duh. Hell yeah I do." He edges closer to Albert, so he's standing in front of him, holding the camera out in front of them. "Say cheese, yo." He won't waste much time snapping the photo.

"Cheese, yo," Albert rumbles mildly from behind Dave, not thinking the joke is particularly clever but it's amusing in its stupidity. Dave seems to appreciate amusing stupidity. Or he's got that wrong, who knows. Kids these days...

Once the flash has gone off, no doubt creating a terrible glare off of his stupid visor, Albert straightens up and runs a hand through his short hair, all spiked and teased thanks to his stylist. He can't say he likes it, but it's not the worst she's ever done to him. "Good enough for your scrapbook or whatever it is you're doing with those?"

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The Crowning Of Clara Murphy

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