etcircenses: (Default)
Panem Events ([personal profile] etcircenses) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2014-10-10 08:11 pm

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.
pimpcanes: (Basic - Talk Talk Talk)

[personal profile] pimpcanes 2014-10-20 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
Thankfully, limp and all, Tom's a very strong man. People forget that, since he was so often standing next to Cain. Even most bodybuilders would look waifish and piqued next to the Unstoppable Juggernaut.

He lifts her up with relative ease, abandoning the cane and carrying her bridal style towards the exit. An Avox gets an order snapped to call them a limo, and to make sure there's a hot drink waiting for Molotov inside it. And at the curb, he sets her on her feet, although he still shares his jacket with her and has her warm in his embrace.
molotov: (exhale)

[personal profile] molotov 2014-10-20 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
Standing, it's more obvious that Molotov sought relief in the form of many, many cocktails. She teeters on sky high, pin-thin stilettos, shoes that are literally shackled to her ankles in gold. She clutches at him to keep from falling, her cheek resting on his shoulder as she waits for the car.

"You're too good to me."
pimpcanes: (Angry - Eugh)

[personal profile] pimpcanes 2014-10-20 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
"You deserve goodness." For his part, he takes a shot of whiskey from a tray as it passes. He's not nearly as inebriated as Molotov, but he certainly hasn't been getting through this party sober. To hell with that.

The Avox he bossed around returns with a hot cider for Molotov, and a cost, but no limo. She makes an apologetic shrug at them both and gives them a printed slip of paper about attendance being mandatory until the paintball game is over.

Tom's face reddens. "What do you mean, we can't leave yet?"
molotov: (hm.)

[personal profile] molotov 2014-10-20 01:16 am (UTC)(link)
Gaze bleary, Molotov accepts the cider and sips at it as she gets into the coat she was brought. It's more of a straitjacket than anything else, but it is, at the very least, warmer than nothing.

"What?" she says, looking at him, cheek pressed to his arm. "What's that mean, why can't we leave, my love?"
pimpcanes: (Angry - Fists)

[personal profile] pimpcanes 2014-10-20 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
The poor Avox girl can't do anything but continue to shove the paper at them, and so Tom goes back to pretending she doesn't exist. If she's not helping them, there's no good to her.

"The paper says the party doesn't end until this ridiculous game is over. As if we haven't wasted enough time here!" He spitefully tosses his empty shot glass out into the street and continues to help hold her up. It's as if he's only just now realized that they're both really captives. Anger makes his face blotchy, makes his mouth look like it has too many teeth.
molotov: (ink.)

[personal profile] molotov 2014-10-20 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
Even drunk, Molotov is upset by how angry he is, upset in the way that she wants to make him feel better. She rubs at his back, wraps her arms around him and somehow avoids spilling cider all over them.

"Calm down, baby," she murmurs, glaring at the Avox for daring to anger her Tom this way. "Don't be angry, we'll just... we'll just wait." She drops her voice a whisper, nuzzles at his ear. "Don't let them see you this way, don't give them anything negative to talk about."
pimpcanes: (Basic - 8|)

[personal profile] pimpcanes 2014-10-20 01:50 am (UTC)(link)
He doesn't brush her off, and he does take his seething down to a quiet summer, if only because she's right. The audience will see only the temper, not the inherent unfairness of the situation. They won't see how tired he is of prisons, of not being able to come and go as he pleased like some sort of feral cat. They won't see that he's worried to see Molotov bereft of her usual self-possession. He strokes her head and holds her close, his face to her hair, glowering at no one in particular. He sways a little, not because he's drunk or tired but because he likes to hold her, to feel her. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just indignant." His Escort will receive a chewing out.
molotov: (heart.)

[personal profile] molotov 2014-10-20 12:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Molotov, drunk or not, does better with some kind of purpose, even if that purpose is only 'soothe man friend'. She keeps moving her hand along his back, kissing at the skin behind his ear, cooing vague things meant only to make him feel better. There is the occasional pause as she drinks the cider, trying to keep warm -- it has, at least, warmed her hands up some.
pimpcanes: (Basic - Talk Talk Talk)

[personal profile] pimpcanes 2014-10-20 03:36 pm (UTC)(link)
She doesn't necessarily make Tom feel better, but she does distract him, does keep him from escalating his anger from throwing a glass to actually trying to hurt somebody. He guides them over to some seats where they can continue sitting side by side, lines on his face still deepened with irritation.

Finally he sighs, letting the urge to hit something go and nestling his head against her shoulder. "I'll have to keep you warm a little longer, then. There could be worse things."
molotov: (awesome ass)

[personal profile] molotov 2014-10-20 04:22 pm (UTC)(link)
When they sit, she curls into his side, the buckles of the jacket (which she's wearing backward, but whatever) clinking gently as she moves. All she can do is stroke his back and finish her cider, feeling a bit better now, waiting for him to calm down.

She lets out a breath when he speaks, turning her head to kiss his crown. "Everything is okay," she murmurs. "We're still together, that's all that matters right now. The stupid game will be over with soon enough."
pimpcanes: (Basic - 8|)

[personal profile] pimpcanes 2014-10-20 11:36 pm (UTC)(link)
He crankily puffs at his pipe, not entirely unlike a sulking cat curled up after getting stepped on. "Sometimes I get the impression that this entire place is being run by absolute idiots."

Well, he often gets that impression; it's just that he's not used to having to follow rules set by a bunch of paparazzi and gossip hounds.
molotov: (more smoking)

[personal profile] molotov 2014-10-21 12:31 am (UTC)(link)
"Shh," she hushes him, fingers gently combing through his hair. "It's my fault, you wouldn't be upset if I hadn't asked you to take me home. We'll just wait for them to declare their party over, that's all it is."

Molotov doesn't want to comment on her thoughts about the Gamemakers, because you never know who's listening. It's better to cover it up with meaningless sweet talk and discuss it later in the bedroom where there's at least a little privacy.

"When we get home, we'll take a bath, you'll forget the whole thing."
pimpcanes: (Basic - Sneer)

[personal profile] pimpcanes 2014-10-21 05:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's not your fault." He would be annoyed at having to assure her that, but then she suggests a bath together and the idea of hot water with her (in contrast to this chilly weather) is so enticing that he's put off from staying mad at anyone, at taking it out on the people around him.

He rests his head on hers, rubbing her shoulder with his hand.

"At the very least I'll need a few more drinks."

They can be unhappy and shitfaced together.
molotov: (awesome ass)

[personal profile] molotov 2014-10-21 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)
She'd rather have his annoyance and anger focused on her than outward and on the Capitol, where the wrong set of ears could pick up on it. Molotov can move her fingers in the right way, say the right thing, and fix it all, but she can't put his tongue back if he gets Avoxed for being too aggressive in his fury.

"Come on," she coos, kissing the side of his neck. "We'll go find somewhere to sit in a dark corner, have some drinks, maybe some more of those fried cheese things with the jalapeños. Poppers. Those are pretty good, for this trash food they're serving. Tomorrow we can sleep in and then go for brunch."
pimpcanes: (Basic - Chatting It Up)

[personal profile] pimpcanes 2014-10-23 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
"Poppers? That's a ridiculous name to give a food." But he can't deny how appealing the idea is. Something to look forward to in the morning may make the rest of this boring night go by faster.

"But yes. Let's do that, my dear."
molotov: (coy)

[personal profile] molotov 2014-10-23 12:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Molotov snorts and nuzzles behind his ear, smiling against his skin. Poppers might be ridiculously named, but they're good. She mentally files a note that she's going to need to brush her teeth if she's putting her mouth anywhere delicate tonight, though.

Rubbing his knee, she nods, then rises, a bit better balanced after the cider and the time spent away from the many cocktails. "Okay, come on, darling. Let's go inside."