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]

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."

[reassures]

She'll save it for another day. Another person. Kankri is too sweet a kid, and Nill can't subject him to a conversation like that. Not when he's probably had to have it before.

The Capitol must have made the lives of the two people from that Arena a real hell. They might not even be alive anymore, but Nill's not all that sure it'd be any worse than the kind of lives the tributes are putting up with here. And the reassuring thing is that once you're a victor, you're a victor no matter what. Which means Kankri's out is to win.

If that also kicked the Capitol in the groin then all the better.

Nill waves a hand, gently dismissive, before writing another response.

don't worry. you're fine. I don't mind.
it's hard to not dwell on awful things.
how long have you been here?

[privilegecheck]

"A bit under half a sweep...er, something like one of your human years," he adds hastily. "I suppose I'd be celebrating turning eight, if I were still with my friends. It works out to seventeen, by this place's standards."

He busies himself with a small block of cheese speared on a toothpick, feeling suddenly quite homesick. It's been happening a lot, since Kurloz's brief time here, before his death in the Arena and failure to return.

[reassures]

She can't help but wonder just how trolls keep track of their birthdays in a world like this, where time is told so much differently. She's not even sure just how many years would add up to a sweep, or if it could be equated that way at all. If they weren't from Earth then the days might not even last the same amount of time as they did here. How foreign must a place like this be for people from other planets?

...It sounds so lonely.

At a loss, Nill doesn't write anything else, though she exudes sympathy. But something must occur to her, because she straightens a little, and glances around, before standing from her seat. She leaves her notepad on the table, and holds up a finger, the implication something along the lines of wait here, I'll be back.

He might catch a glimpse of the wings pinned to her back as she goes, but then she disappears into the crowd, stumbling only a little on the heels she's been forced to wear.

[privilegecheck]

Kankri feels a little self-conscious being left on his own, but Nill left her notebook; surely that means she'll be back sooner rather than later. He focuses his attention on getting through the majority of the plate of food and trying not to pay attention to the gawking stares of the Capitolites at the party in the meantime.

He really hopes she'll be back soon.

[reassures]

Not to worry Kankri. Nill's back in about ten minutes, with two plates, both of which have half a piece of cake on them, cut into smaller pieces so he doesn't need to worry about actually cutting them, as well as two plastic forks. She sets one down in front of him, and then takes her seat once more, picking up the notepad again.

I don't know what trolls do for birthdays.
people on earth usually eat cake.
happy birthday.

The cake is probably the lightest one they had available, with minimal icing so as to not be too much for him to handle. It's also why she split it between the two of them, just in case it was overboard.

[privilegecheck]

Kankri looks at her.

He looks at the cake.

He looks back at her.

He looks back at the cake.

After a few shocked, silent moments, he finally murmurs, "I...I don't...thank you. It's very kind of you." Then, not quite knowing what to say, he picks up a fork and has one of the small, bite-sized pieces of cake. He chews it slowly, savoring its taste, and swallows.

And then, quite abruptly and without warning even to himself, he starts crying.

[reassures]

The smile on her face is nothing but soft and gentle, and she certainly seems happy enough, even if he's sort of stunned by the whole thing. She waits a little, just to see if the cake will actually be okay - he'd said rich foods were an issue - but that's certainly not the problem that arises.

She's almost not sure what to do at first, but out of habit more than anything she had grabbed napkins as well, and she slides hers toward him, keeping her hands extended across the table top, in case he felt like he needed to hold on to something.

Situations like this are a little difficult. You can't very well write something and expect someone to respond while crying. And she almost never touches without permission. So Nill stays where she is, mildly concerned but patient, and she never once reaches for the notepad. She just hopes he's okay.

[privilegecheck]

When he catches the motion of her pushing the napkins over in the corner of his eye, Kankri all at once feels acutely embarrassed. He ends up grabbing two at once off the top of the stack, pressing the paper over his eyes to hastily blot out the evidence of his emotional outburst. When he lowers it again his eyes are still puffy and he's still doing a little bit of the piteous sniffling, but he has himself mostly under control again, at least.

"I'm very sorry. I miss my friends." Wow, that explains precisely nothing, good job Kankri Vantas. "I'm- all the other trolls here are from a very different place than where I came from. I've been the only one from my home for a long time. And- in the last arena, one of my friends was here, and then he didn't come back after." He sniffs loudly, taking a deep breath to stay in control of himself. "And I didn't think anyone else would find- that kind of thing, you know- to be relevant. There haven't been any wiggling day parties that I know of since I came here. ...I apologize, I know I'm not making sense here."

At a loss for words, he has another bite of cake.

[reassures]

It explains more than enough for Nill. She nods, but lets him continue on. She'd tried not to make the general assumption that all trolls were inherently from the same place - it wouldn't make a lot of sense if they were, since not all humans were - but it's still a little surprising that out of all of the ones here, none of them were from where he was. No wonder he was lonely.

it's ok. I miss my friends too.
I'm sorry you lost yours.

She considers her notepad for a moment, before continuing on, making a mental note of Wiggling Day.

a lot of people forget about things like that in places like this.
they're still important. sometimes bigger things happen to people.

It's easy to forget something small and happy in a place where you need to kill people regularly. There's so much ending of life that it's not that surprising that people forget about the start of it.