The Crowning Of Clara Murphy

[etcircenses]

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.

Comments

[privilegecheck]

"I could speak my native language. It, er, really doesn't sound at all like how human speech does, but it's not hard for me to pronounce human words, whereas it appears that humans have a difficult time speaking in troll tongue. There's a lot of...chirping, and such sounds, in troll, you see. But I can't speak it anymore," he finishes sadly. "If I try, human words come out."

"As for your other question..." He sighs, getting himself a piece of fruit. "I told you I'm a pacifist. In the time I've been here - close to one of your human years - I've never hurt people, let alone tried to kill anyone. It's - it's the thing I don't let them take from me. They can't make me play their game. And usually...usually, from what I can tell, even people who don't want to hurt others end up doing it out of desperation, after a little while. I don't blame them. The Arenas are harsh. But I haven't. And I continue to be vocal in my resistance."

He scoots the plate away a little so he can fiddle with the place setting, nervous. "Things are very tense here. I am marketed to the public as a tragic story. Someone defenseless and weak. And people like that have won in the past, but...well. Currently the Capitol means to project strength and iron control." He smiles wryly. "So now, imagine that an outspoken pacifist wins, just when the Capitol means to give its viewers a more lavish display of brutality than ever. It would be an embarrassment more than a novelty. The Games are not meant to be fair, you see, they are meant to show the strongest and most popular candidates clawing their way to victory on the bodies of all the other Tributes."

He doesn't meet Nill's eyes as he says, "Even if I were to make it to the end, I am sure the Gamemakers would find some way to kill me with the environment itself if it was possible that I might win. I am one of the most...most seemingly delicate Tributes here. They have invested a lot in making that my public image. If I were to succeed, it would not be by my own willingness to cause others harm. It would upset everything they build up their Victors to be, when everything is meant to be under their control."

[privilegecheck]

"Oh, we're not really pitted against each other," Kankri says with a shrug. "We're both pacifists. We did have a bit of a dust-up in one of the Arenas, but we were both heavily drugged at the time. And still ended up deciding to work together, so. There you go."

[privilegecheck]

Kankri considers the question. "I've been learning self-defense with Jane. I do intend to continue it. Learning to disarm people would likely come in handy as well, since most would be bound to be better with a weapon than I am. And I'd like to learn more about medicine. Especially field medicine, but I want to know more in general. I want to have a good idea of what's wrong when people get hurt, because human biology is still far less familiar to me than my own species', but you humans outnumber us dramatically in and out of the Arenas. The reason I survive in Arenas as long as I do is because I take care to not be seen as a threat and because I try to make myself useful. I need to have more to offer to friends and allies, because I can't offer violence on their behalf."

[pimpcanes]

"Consider your time appropriately wasted, then." Tom slides his hand back into his pocket and takes another puff from the pipe. "Thank you for the light, Mr. Samson."

And he swaggers off, as much as someone with a lame leg can swagger (it's actually pretty well).

[privilegecheck]

Kankri glances around a bit nervously, but nods. "It would be nice to be out of the spotlight. I feel quite exposed like this." He wraps his hands tightly around the glass, trotting after her.

After a few moments of quiet, he pipes up again. "Justine? If you don't like parties, why do you come? I mean, you're a doctor, it doesn't seem like you would need to for political reasons."

[silberfuchs]

"So she... possessed the robot?" Is that a thing that can happen? He's never seen any proof that spirits exist, though that doesn't mean they don't where Terezi comes from. He's a little more concerned with the person making the body adding extras. It hits a little close to home.

"That's not something he should have changed. Frankly, I'm glad your friend fought back."

[reassures]

So some time ago the Capitol had taken away their ability to speak in other languages, but it hadn't been that way from the start. There were a couple things that could mean in regard to the tributes, but the two most likely seem to be the potential of magical interference, or... that something was done to their minds, or their brains. Nill lifts a hand, absently brushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. It's not a reassuring thing to hear.

Something in her chest aches for him. When Nill had gone through battle royale, she did the exact same thing as him. Hid. Kept away from her loved ones. Waited for someone to kill her at some point, because she was not going to survive, and she didn't have it in her to kill the people around her, even if they were more than happy to kill her slowly.

Then the Newcomer Hunt had happened, and she never expected to walk out of that place either, but she did - after she had inflicted tremendous pain on someone attacking her and her loved one. After that she even killed people willingly. Whatever it was that Kankri was trying so desperately to keep, Nill had never made it out of the hunting grounds with.

His concern isn't unwarranted. If he were to become a victor he would need to be trying to, and he'd probably need help. He seems like such a good kid. He's probably need through the Arenas at least three times, and they haven't taken the giant chunks from him that they do for others. It won't last forever. He needed to be a victor... and fast.

It's a good thing that Nill doesn't want to be a victor. They've taken too much. They don't need to take it from other people as well. And if that makes the people running this place unhappy, then all the better.

There's little other than quiet understanding in her expression when she holds her notepad up again.

can they make up a reason not to have a victor if they already won?

She heard the arenas are broadcast live, but she's not sure how true that is.

[seestheman]

Clara isn't sure whether she's upset or relieved that, of all the spaces he could have chosen, Alex chose the space that the Capitol set up to look like their backyard. She saw the space earlier, of course, but there's a difference between knowing that the space is there and being in it to have what she's pretty sure might be one of the hardest conversations she'll ever have. Part of her's tempted to sit down on one of the patio chairs that looks like the ones they bought at a flea market years ago, but decides against it because she's partially convinced that, if she does, her resolve might end up being weakened and she won't be able to go through with this.

It's bizarre, the way his apology hits her. She doesn't expect it at all, mostly because she doesn't think he really has anything he needs to apologize for in the first place. "Alex it...it's fine. It wasn't your fault that..." She trails off. That she lost an eye because she wandered off on her own? That she lost a hand during her encounter with Black Tom? That she won because Carlos decided to shoot himself instead of win? That they were ever brought here in the first place? "...any of it happened."

She knows that it's some sort of miracle or stupid dumb luck that she won at all and that she should be glad to be free of the Arena, even with the steep cost. No one's ever accused Clara of really being a logical person. She had a plan, she was going to get Alex and Dr. Norton and Dave and Clementine out before she ever tried to get out herself and now...well, she doesn't know what to do now. The best that she can think of is get in as close with the rebellion as possible and hope that she can convince them to find a way to help her put Alex back to normal(ish).

"Before I say anything else, I need you to know that I love you, Alex. I can't imagine a world where I don't, but the truth is that with the way things are right now...it's hard. I'm sure that you've heard about me and Rose by now and," she stops herself for a second, taking in a deep breath to steady herself. Most of it isn't true. Neither of them are in love with the other, to the best of her knowledge, but Alex can't know that (even though she'd love nothing more than to tell him that all the emotional parts are a complete lie), "it's all true. I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me, but if you can't, I understand."

[69problems]

"It isn't just me, but it's by no means the norm."

He never really thought about it, actually, though there's a lot he could say about access to durable clothing for lowbloods as opposed to highbloods and clothing complexity as a symbol of status. Now is probably not the time.

"I never wore shoes before coming here. I'm so used to feeling the ground under my feet that it's strange not to."

[yourmove]

Alex pauses, although he’s already been monitoring her emotional response in real-time and recording it to dissect it later. For a moment her confession actually drags out something close to a faint frown – a tiny line appears between his eyebrows, a muscle ticking at the corner of his mouth. It might seem like she’s managed to get him actually react before it collapses back into that mask-like state again. He blinks twice, rapidly, before his face goes neutral.

“You’re under stress from the Arenas, your victory. Among other things.” Another pause, Alex searching for how to approach this in a fair, constructive fashion. “You’re in need of emotional and physical intimacy that I can’t provide anymore. You can’t be at fault for seeking it elsewhere.”

Clearly taking Clara to this place hasn’t helped in that aspect. He thought the night vision, the fresh night air with the smell of a barbeque would help ease her agitation levels. He stares down at her, seeing the glass eye as logistically it’s there, but not seeing it like the old Alex Murphy would. It’s merely there, a part of Clara now to be updated in his profile. Same went with her hand. His head tilts a fraction, trying to parse out what else to say. Logically he knows she hasn’t hurt anyone. The neurosuppression makes him incapable of any feelings of hurt or betrayal. That said, there’s still a small nugget that forms at the base of his core, like a phantom sensation of a stomach ache. A glitch, maybe. He can’t identify it. Alex decides to report it for tonight’s maintenance, after the Crowning.

“It’s acceptable if you find your intimacy and stress relief with someone else,” Alex goes on. He seems to hear his voice as if from a distance. Another thing to note. “While Rose is not someone I would…personally recommend, the important thing is you’re happy.”

There should be pain in his voice, anger or sadness or even a resigned wistfulness. It’s flatter than normal now, Alex staring at Clara as if he’s forgotten how to blink. He doesn’t think to go in for a hug or even hold her hand, lie and say they’ll figure a way to get through this together. Clara saving his life started the divide between them. The suppression necessary to improve him as a cop, as a Tribute, only sealed the deal. They all know it. Alex stands there, statue-still, watching Clara’s voice in high resolution, her face outlined in red. She seems upset. This relationship with Rose doesn’t seem like it’s working today.

[seestheman]

It's a good thing he doesn't say it out loud. While Clara's willing to get confrontational over certain things, like the fact that she probably could have come through more Arenas relatively mentally unscathed, she doesn't want to do that here and now. Especially not after having a couple glasses of champagne.

"Oh, um, thank you." Truth be told, it's one of those things that Clara would love to avoid talking about for the most part. She's seen the pitying looks and the too-long glances at the hand that she knows they could have made look a little more natural instead of ensuring it looked metallic. In fact, she's half tempted to brush Albert off, except for the fact that...yeah, talking to someone who understands would actually be kind of nice. "I'm still getting used to looking down and seeing this," she says with a little waggle of her robotic fingers, "instead of my hand." At least it isn't as jarring as looking down and seeing nothing there (or automatically reaching out to grab something and seeing a bandaged stump like she had in the first week she was out of the Arena. "I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually." She isn't sure if that is or isn't overshare.

[ka_sera_sera]

"Do we have any choice? Either of us?" Roland takes a breath, knowing this is the time to bring some personal experience into the conversation and thinking on how to phrase it. "After my home destroyed itself, I stopped caring about anything save my goal, and how to get there. Even if I still had that, I couldn't close my heart off now. Wouldn't if I could."

He studies Signless a moment. "I think you're the same. I also think if you love the Initiate you're going to do this with him eventually. May as well do it now, and call your third if you start to see trouble. Can you do that without... ah, 'flipping quadrants'?"

[currupted]

At this point, there's only so much that her absence can really do to get him out of the limelight anymore. It's a problem. You tangled us up in this, he's thought moodily in the direction of her empty place, as the tabloids scroll through photo montages and flash the word HEARTBREAK! across his tablet screen. You don't get to back out now.

He's sure they're watching now. Of course they're watching now. All he has to be thankful for is that they won't be overheard.

But he smiles, and hopes from a distance that their relative positions say polite interest and not desperation. "For the most part," he parrots her. "Fewer Tributes in the Capitol means less work, as a rule. And less trouble." With a wry smile-- "Sponsorship used to feel like work, but-- turns out you're all rather easier to deal with at a distance."

[burnedbrighter]

She laughed as well.

"It's on my list then. Enjoy the rest of the party and as soon as I hear back from the creators I'll keep you updated."

She toasted him by raising her drink and sipping it once more. It really wasn't that bad considering how much she favored bitter drinks like wine and dark coffee. Perhaps she could get used to it. She'd adjusted to so many other things in the last year.

[burnedbrighter]

Now that she could do. The smile on her painted lips beamed confidence.

"We can do those things, and how about ropes? They are extremely versatile and easy to procure for tributes through sponsors. With enough rope you can provide safety in the form of traps and barriers, not to mention the construction of simple shelters. Ontop of that if you incapacitate someone you can bind them to allow your allies time to flee."

It was a good plan, a sound strategy for someone unwilling to embrace what the games were really supposed to be. If he could make himself multi-talented and valuable to other more bloodthirsty tributes they could treat him as an asset worth protecting.

"We can also brush up on your knowledge of plants and berries though in more recent arenas that knowledge has proved unreliable at times." They had taken to poisoning a great number of plants that didn't need to be poisoned.

"You're a smart boy in your own way, irritating in others but...well I said I would help you and I will."

[silberfuchs]

"Possibly. They try and make the Games as entertaining and distracting as possible. For example, look around." He makes a sweeping gesture at the spectacle. "It may be for us, but it's for them as well."

More like it's just for them, all of it, but he has to keep his words even or else it may give them cause to hassle or even arrest him in this climate.

[silberfuchs]

"Eventually you will. I wore gloves, which helped a little, especially with the metal hand being cold." If Albert thought it was oversharing, he makes no sign, responding to her evenly with advice from his own experience.

"The technology here in the Capitol is very advanced though. Hopefully you're not in any pain around the connection point because of that?" He remembers his own, stretching and stinging where metal met flesh, and the bones deep ache that never really went away, but his cybernetics were older and covered his entire body, not to mention being heavier because of the weapons involved. He hopes he's right in thinking that aside from some soreness, she's alright in that regard.

[unjoined]

The way the other Tributes are so cautious and almost skillfully careful in how they act both amazes and irritates Korra. She can't blame them, of course, but the idea of so many people being pushed this far into keeping quiet makes her mad.

But they also warn her often, and for that she's grateful. She's not exactly known for keeping a cool head, but this is a pretty public event. With a small sigh, she nods in understanding.

"You're right, there's no helping it. I wouldn't want to let them down," she says with only a little bit of bitterness. She's getting better.

Korra's eyebrows shoot up and she blinks a few times. "I mean, I've seen some things like that since I've gotten here but, wow... That's incredible. I've been so freaked out by the technology here, you know? I didn't think I'd find something so useful. We don't have anything like that back home."

For now, she assumes he's one of the scientists, considering she can't see anything obvious that would tell her otherwise. Maybe he even knows a good bit about it.

[unjoined]

Korra blinks, a little lost. The cultural lines were pretty solid back home and were mostly common knowledge. She can't imagine how it could be different elsewhere.

Hesitantly, after wondering if she shouldn't pry, she asks. "What do you mean?"

[unjoined]

Will there ever be a time the things Ruffnut says don't freak her out? No, probably not.

She got a look of confusion at that last comment before Korra winced, obviously caught. Hard to be the fusser when she's the one who usually got fussed at, back home.

"Uh. Yeah, I'd say a few times," she said slowly, looking around like she wasn't largely underestimating things. "I mean, I've got stories, but I've got good reasons in almost all of them."

wanna wrap?

[unjoined]

"Rarely, huh?" She can understand that. A spar with the training dummies in the training center isn't the same as a spar with a real person. "Then it'll do us both some good, so, fine with me."

She put her hands on her hips, grinning. "Would you look at that, I'm already in a better mood."

[privilegecheck]

If Nill asked further, Kankri could tell her exactly what was done to them; Penny had made no secret of it, had delighted in telling them. He doesn't like to think about it, though. It's a violation that is very uncomfortable to consider, especially for someone like Kankri, who values his thoughts and will above all else.

Thankfully the current topic means he can quite comfortably refuse to think about it anymore. He twists his mouth to the side a bit - a silly-looking tic for when he's considering anything to do with his distaste for the Capitol - and eventually shakes his head.

"They never have, to my knowledge. In fact, before this - the Neverending Quell - started, there were two victors in the last traditional Arena. They fell in love and tried to commit suicide rather than be without each other, so they were both allowed to win." He sighs. "But it's no guarantee of immunity. In one of the Arenas before my arrival, they put several Mentors - that's Victors after their victory, they become a representative for their District and assist their Tributes in getting Sponsors and training - in with the new Tributes to shake things up. And of late they've taken to putting Mentors who cause trouble back in, as punishment."

He scuffs a bare foot against the floor. "I'm sorry. You've been so kind, and here I am dwelling on awful things."

[anachronologistics]

Aside from a few times back on the ship where Jade had decided to preen his feathers -- and oh god had that felt really, really fucking good, like scratching an itch you couldn't reach -- Davesprite's never really let anyone touch his wings for an extended amount of time. Mostly it's because there was never really anyone around on the ship who would want to touch them (again, save for Jade, at least until they broke up and then he was just mysteriously elusive) and he sure as hell didn't trust the consorts. There's a slight instinct niggling at the back of his mind that tells him he should probably be afraid of someone gripping a handful of feathers and just yanking on that shit like the breakline for a speeding bus, but it goes ignored. It's not like he doubts his ability to out-maneuver the little guy, anyway.

He does, however, let out a slight breath of relief when Kenny does take his hand back. Had he been holding that? No of course not, whatever gave you that idea...

"Yeah, they're okay, I guess," he shrugs, "Not as sweet as my jams, maybe. You should check them out if you really want to hit the floor."

[ruffntumblenut]

Ruffnut's wicked grin grew sharper, pleased that she had something more in common with Korra.

"Having fun is a perfectly good reason." She protested already positive that hadn't been what Korra meant. She didn't take her gaze off the dark skinned girl clearly hoping for some fun stories of her own.

[silberfuchs]

It's a calm enough reaction he thinks she got the message. His attention is a bit more on her reaction to the talk of cybernetics instead. Incredible, she calls it. Useful. And he supposes it is, when it's wanted. Clara had lost her hand before they gave her a new one, Susannah had been so pleased with her new legs, but all Albert can think of is how Black Ghost had mangled his body, turned him into a weapon, all against his will.

He has little taste for the way this conversation is going, even if he knows he lead it there. "What sort of technology is there where you come from?"

It's a safer subject.