thearena | i said hey, girl with one eye

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i said hey, girl with one eye

Who| Clara Murphy and Dennett Norton, Clara Murphy & OPEN
What| Clara gets help after the fight with Venus. And after that sneaks around the Arena.
Where| All over the mall.
When| The first night of the Arena up through the beginning of week two.
WARNINGS| Mentions of gruesome eye injuries. Various other awful things'll probably happen too.

The Authority
Clara didn't say anything to Alex about it when he took the knife she had grabbed on the first day, but that was really just adding insult to injury. She hadn't just lost an eye, she had, for the time being, also lost the best way she had to protect herself. So Clara's on a mission to find a new weapon.

It may be careless of her, but she's standing in the hunting knife section of the store and is testing them out instead of just grabbing one and running. This time she's going to make sure it feels right and is the best weapon for her, just in case she gets involved in another fight.

OmniStore (aka the Roboverse themed store)
In her continuing exploration of the mall, Clara eventually finds herself on the third floor. After picking up an eyepatch in a store based on Molotov Cocktease, she finds a store with a familiar logo over the door.

The store contains a number of familiar things. Plastic visors and chestplates based off of Alex's in both black and silver. Fake silver wedding bands in twin packs, the smaller of which matches the one she's allowed to wear as a token from home (and, not that anyone here would really know this, but the larger's match is sitting in her jewelry box at home). A number of jackets, ties, and glasses that remind her of Dr. Norton.

Her eye quickly locks onto something against one of the stark, white walls of the store. A mannequin clad in a recreation of her favorite coat from home and a rack of clothes that look like they were pulled from her closet, which she quickly crosses to.

A Touch Of Class - Makeup Counter
To say Clara's time in the Arena has been rough so far would be a massive understatement. And, as such, Clara's of the opinion that she needs a little bit of self-care to make things a little better. Since there don't seem to be an bathtubs and she really doesn't want to have a bubblebath in the fountain, the next best thing is a makeover.

For anyone who may find her, Clara's perched on a tall chair, having already applied some (fairly minimal) eye makeup and trying to figure out the most flattering way to apply blush around the gauze covering her right eye.

Food Court
Clara's a bit wary about returning to the food court, considering that her first night in the Arena, she got into a fight and lost an eye there. But it seems like the only place that actually has food and after a few days without eating, she's ravenous. And this time, she's much more careful, trying to be as silent and cautious as possible.

More than anything, she wants a salad. Of course, beggars can't be choosers so, considering her luck so far, there are no salads. But there is a place that reminds her of the bakery/cafe by the station that she used to pop into when visiting Alex that looks like it has something vaguely healthier than most of the other options, so she grabs herself a sandwich and some soup and grabs a table that she hopes is fairly hidden away.

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He's a little alarmed that they have the ability to manipulate Alex like that. It was bad enough that he did; Dennett at least had a conscience. Somewhere.

"I'll have to take a closer look. Hold on." He has, in his limited pilfering skills, managed to snag a bottle of water. "This might sting--it's not salinated." Because, yes, a sting will surely bother her, with the damage he's seeing. Still, he owes her extra consideration, as he moves to pour the water gently over the damaged socket.

Clara wishes she could be surprised about the Capitol's ability to manipulate Alex. Of course, she doubts anything they do can really surprise her.

No matter how gently he does it, it still stings. And sure, in comparison to some of the things she's been through in this and the previous Arena, it isn't much, but it is enough to make her wince. "Is there anything that can be done to keep it from getting infected? I promised someone I wouldn't let any of my wounds get infected."

He's still new here, forgive him. But he's learning, unfortunately.

"I'm sorry," Dennett murmurs, because he doesn't even have the simplest of supplies, a basic eyewash, anything. He hates not having the right tools. "You'll need to find something antiseptic. Betadyne. Alcohol--do they sell alcohol at a mall?" He's not sure. "Because the only other option is...well, I don't think you'd like it." Translation: he doesn't like it.

"It's not your fault," Clara says. Whether she means her injury or his lack of supplies or both is a mystery, but it's also the truth. "I...I don't know? I can't think of that many malls with a liquor store. Maybe there's a first aid kit somewhere." If someone hasn't already gotten to it, that is.

She stares up at him, trying not to make it obvious that she's more than a little terrified about what this other option is. "What is it?"

"I know, I just..." ...is burdened with a guilty conscience that has done quite enough back in Detroit to hurt Clara Murphy, already. "I just wish it didn't hurt." Small wish. He wishes they were all back in Detroit, and not in the Mall of Death, but he realizes that's a wish far too big to be rational.

No, Clara, you don't want to...damn. "Uh. Cauterization. Heat. To kill the germs and seal the wound." They may still need alcohol for that--mostly for 'liquid courage' applications.

"If wishes were horses," she says, her voice trembling. As much as she tries to sound above it all and like she isn't terrified, she is. No matter how bad the last two Arenas she's endured have been, nothing that happened in them could have set her up to be ready for something like this to happen on the first day. Or at all, really.

"Oh." Her voice sounds completely unrecognizable and far too small to her ears. "That sounds..." Horrific. Painful. Like Hell. "Do you have anything to do it with?"

Oh, no, Clara. Don't do that with your voice. That. You know, the quavery 'I'm on the edge of not being able to handle this' thing you're doing. Dennett's not equipped to handle that.

"We could figure something out. But. Clara. We don't need to. I mean, the time we're likely to last here, I don't think infection would have a chance to be a factor."

Okay, so, there's why Dennett doesn't try to do consoling speeches. Because that's probably not comforting at all.

Sorry Dennett, there's so much wavering in her voice right now, mostly because she isn't quite sure she'll be able to stay quiet about that much pain and might give their location away with her screaming. Also, the idea of being in that much pain. Losing her eye hurt like hell, but the way to stave off infection sounds like it might hurt worse.

"Yes we need to. I don't know about you, but I'm planning on lasting in here as long as it takes to make sure Alex gets out of this thing alive." She's never really voiced this plan to anyone else, mostly because she's been afraid that the Capitol would do something horrible to Alex if they knew she was plotting anything. And because she knew Alex, or at least Alex the way he should be, would probably be completely against her trying to get him out before her. "I can't let an infection slow me down, so I need you to figure something out." Despite all the wavering and fear in her voice, there's a touch of steel to it. She knows this is going to hurt like hell, but she's on a mission and she doesn't intend to fail.

"I'm more worried about you than Alex."

Well, chalk that up to another attempt at a statement that came out totally wrong. "I meant," he adds, hastily, "The armor, all the systems he has." Which you happen to be lacking.

"Though, honestly, my money's on you more than me." Fatalism, or Dennett being a realist? She was not a lady to be stopped--he'd seen that even back in Detroit.

"Alcohol would burn, but it would hurt less than cautery. Though," He looks around at the shops around them. "Perfume has an alcohol content of 27. That or...there has to be cleaning equipment around here somewhere, don't you think?"

"Neither of us are going to win this. We're not...we're not like Alex or any of the others who are likely to win." There isn't any shame or the like in her voice or on her face when she says that. "But we can try to help him win by helping him stay alive." She doesn't tell him the big reason why she wants Alex to win other than the obvious, because she's afraid of what the Capitol will do if they find out just how scared she is of losing Alex again.

Clara doesn't acknowledge the fact that, some how, she has a better chance to make it longer in here than he does, despite the fact that he scored higher than she did.

The mention of cleaning equipment and alcohol content makes something in Clara's brain spark. "The make up counter might have some rubbing alcohol to disinfect the testers." It may still hurt, but it sounds far less excruciating than cautery.

"Can I ask--" Partly because he's curious and partly because he's trying to distract her as he examines her eye more closely, tugging at what appears to be a flap of skin that might have been an eyelid. "what happens to those who do win?" He's begun to doubt everything people tell him, but Clara wouldn't lie.

He...isn't a mall kind of man, and his department store perfume and makeup counter experience is normally to duck his head down and barrel through before they can spray him with some bizarre fragrance. "That would work beautifully. And they may have cotton or some other bandaging material." He's sort of asking for confirmation.

"They get out," she says as he examines her. "They stay in the Capitol as mentors. The only ones I know of who've had to go back in are people who went against the Capitol." Which...well, she's pretty sure Alex would be smart enough not to do that. Sure, he's proven in the past that he can be stupidly hotheaded, but she likes to think that, even without the neurosuppression, he'd know better than that by now, especially in a place like this. "No one told you that when you got here?"

Clara likes makeup. She has since she was a teenager. But even with that, the only reason she has any clue about what might be behind the makeup counter is because she had enough friends in college who worked at makeup counters or in a boutique. "There should probably be something to help take it off," she says, more than a little relieved that they may have something workable.

"They might have. I was a little...preoccupied." Trying to absorb that this wasn't Detroit, that they were going to shove him in some bizarre village thing. He kept thinking it was a nightmare, and had half resolved that Dennett Norton would eat no more leftover Chinese food before bed.

"And you want that for Alex, while you're still...one of us?" Really, Clara. He may be a nerd, but he can see a complication here. Alex wouldn't let Clara be murdered for sport. Dennett had seen what Alex had done when someone had simply upset his son, after all.

"That would be...far better, yes." If he looks relieved it's because he honestly wasn't keen on the idea of a field cautery on Clara. "Are you able to move? To come along with me?" He wouldn't mind the company. Plus the navigation among the, well, girlie things.

"Ah." She gives him a small, understanding nod. "They told me when they were taking me to be scored and some of the others told me about how this all works in the week leading up to the Arena." It's the strangest thing, how all of that feels like it had happened a lifetime ago instead of a matter of months beforehand.

"Of course," she says resolutely. "If he wins...I won't have to go through losing him again." And there it is. She knows it's selfish and that, if Alex knew about her plan he would try to stop her, but she doesn't care about that. What she does care about is putting an end to this cycle of losing him and getting him back. "And maybe they'll let him be...him instead of the way he's been lately."

"Yeah." Clara stiffly gets onto her feet. While the worst of the damage from the fight had been the loss of her eye, that doesn't change the fact that otherwise she feels like a giant, walking bruise between Venus strangling her and being dragged around like a ragdoll. Hell, she wouldn't be that surprised if she had cracked a rib or few.

"I'm not sure your way was much of an advantage, I mean, at least I had no idea." Ignorance was bliss? Then again, if he'd known it was an arena of death, he might have been warier of the kind little old lady...who'd stabbed him in the eye.

"How has he been--oh. You've seen him here." He frowns. "I don't like that they have the ability to do that to him." That, Mrs Murphy, is an understatement for the ages. It was bad enough when he'd done it, and he was--he thought--a relatively good person. He was thinking of keeping Alex alive, at any rate. The people here, though...?

He steps forward, offering an arm he expects to be shaken off. "Let me know if you sense any danger." He can't do much to help but he has skates as blades, and he can, well, at least slow an attacker down? If he's going to die, he'd rather it be gallant.

"I don't know, I spent most of my first few weeks here convinced this was all just a dream." And spent those weeks she was in the Arena hoping it wasn't a dream if it meant getting Alex back, which only made her feel guilty and like the worst mother she could possibly be. "Maybe both situations had their own weird advantages."

"Yeah." Clara doesn't want to mention how much it hurt to finally see Alex again after weeks of being told to talk to someone else about his whereabouts, only to find that he was the way he had been on the day of the press conference and when she had finally managed to get the nerve to confront him. "I almost thought you might have had something to do with it at first. I kind of wish you had, if it meant that they didn't have a way to do it on their own."

She doesn't take his arm. Partly because Clara Murphy is nothing but stubborn and partly because she's concerned about the fact that her entire body feels like a bruise at the moment. Not for the first time since the end of the fight, she's more than a little peeved that Alex confiscated her (admittedly stolen, but still) knife since she's sure it'd be a better weapon than broken off ice skates. "I will," she says as she starts leading them through the first floor of the department store in the hopes of finding something useful at the makeup counter.

"I don't blame you. It's one way the brain attempts to integrate unusual stimuli--" Shut up, Dennett. Now is probably not the time. Especially since his next topic was going to be how Alex had done so back in China.

He so isn't up for getting the one eyed lady slapping him again. Women in this place are seriously hard on his health.

"Clara. I was wrong to have done it, back then. It was all I could think of, in the moment, to keep the program alive. Raymond would have killed the whole program if I didn't do something." Probably also not the time to be unburdening this corner of his soul. Then again, maybe this kind of talk will distract her from her pain.

After a moment, he lowers his arm, dismayed but unsurprised. She was a strong woman. The benefit of this part of the department store, at least, is that the scarf and handbag section has a number of easy to duck behind racks. And he does grab a few scarves, just in case he can use them on Clara. Hope she likes a skull motif?

Clara doesn't say anything about how deep in denial she was. She also doesn't slap him, considering he's helping her when, really, he doesn't have to. Honestly, he could end this Arena for her right now and she wouldn't be able to blame him if he did. Hell, he'd probably be able to rest easier knowing that she wasn't wandering around here with one eye and the possibility of being horribly slaughtered by anyone who so chose to.

"I know," she says. There's no rage or even condemnation in her tone. She's had enough time since he first bared his soul to her about why Alex had been the way he was to understand and begin to accept that Dr. Norton had his reasons, even if she hates what the end result had been.

Clara laughs slightly at him grabbing a few scarves. Sure, she knows that it's probably so that he can use them as bandages, but the idea of polka dot or plaid bandages is kind of funny. The skulls...well, it's darkly hilarious considering where they are. "No offense, but I'm not sure that this is the right time to worry about accessorizing."

The thought had glossed over his mind: that it might be something like a mercy to kill her.

But he can't. He just...can't. Whatever that says about him, good or ill, he can't do it.

"There has to be a way to undo it. Though, I don't know if that's a good idea now. Maybe he's better off not feeling anything right now?" And at least when he did...that to Alex, it was to keep Alex alive. What he'd seen here, already, the fact that they could do that to Alex, here, was...sick.

He looks down at the fabric in his hands, sheepishly. "I'm still new at this scrounging thing." But hey, he'll give her a choice which one she wants on the outside!

As much as she hates hearing that, it might be true in a cold, logical way. Of course, she'd always prefer her Alex over the one who can kill unflinchingly in the name of the law (whatever version of the law they have him working off of in here), but the latter would have a better chance of winning. "Maybe you're right. I'm more afraid of how it'll affect him outside of here." They'd want him normal back in the Capitol, right? She hopes so, if only for her own state of mind.

It doesn't strike her that this is the first time that she's actually come close to joking with Dr. Norton about anything. In another time or place it might hit her, but there are other things to think about right now. "That's alright. Though, I'm pretty sure they'll still be here later, so you don't really have to worry about scrounging as much as you can right now."

Believe Dennett: he hates having to say it. But he is a logical man, and, well, maybe it is better for Alex to be numb. Dennett wishes he was numb, himself.

"That's...well, we'll have to see if he changes back. If not, I can see what I can do." He has plans. And a contact who has promised him tools.

"Alex, you know, he told me to keep the price tags of anything I took, to get out of that...outfit they put me in." He hopes she didn't see him in skin tight purple lame. He wishes HE hadn't seen himself. "Stealing is wrong, apparently." It's his contender for Not Funny Joke. Is he winning?

The idea of being numb in this place sounds almost comforting, but at the same time, Clara isn't sure how Alex is going to react if he comes back to himself with lord knows how many people's blood on his hands. She's pretty sure it wouldn't end well. And as much as she doesn't want that for him, at the same time, if it means he has a better chance of getting out of this thing, it's worth it, right?

"Thank you, I mean it." Though she has his doubts about what he'll be able to do with the Capitol watching their every move.

"Seriously?" There's a touch of a laugh in her voice. That probably shouldn't be as funny as she's finding it. "That's going to make things interesting." She knew the Capitol was full of assholes, but that's really taking it to another level.

He has to admit he's wished for a little numbness now and again himself. But his would be, well, self-inflicted. He can only presume Alex's isn't. It wasn't when Dennett did it to him.

"Thank me when I do something to make up for, well...everything." No small order, there. This, though, doesn't count.

"Yes." And no, it's probably not funny at all, but they need a laugh, even a faltering, lame one, right about now. "What's funnier is..." he reaches into his pocket, where he's dutifully gathered the tags from the shirt and pants and shoes he'd taken. Alex would be happy to know he stole only workday clothes, nothing flashy or pricy.

"The fact that you're trying to make things right at all means a lot." And really, she kind of hates admitting that, but it's true. In a place like this, no one would possibly be able to fault Dr. Norton for keeping his head down and working with the Capitol if they asked him to. It would be smarter and safer than standing against them to put things right.

"Well," she says eyeing the tags he pulls out with a small, "I hope he doesn't ask me for the tags, since that's going to be be difficult to show him." She was tempted to steal something a little flashier than what she grabbed, but resisted the urge because it wouldn't help her in here.

When they finally come upon the makeup counter, she lets out a sigh of relief. There was a small fear that someone would have already raided it, but it looks completely untouched. "What do you need again?"

He gives a bit of a nervous shrug, because he's seen Alex's new personality and it's like a crotch shot to his confidence. "I do what I can. Which is not much." No tools, not even a proper first aid kit, much less a surgical suite.

"I'd just...not tell him." Uh oh, is he telling a wife to lie to her husband? For shame, Dennett!

"I, er, well something with an alcohol content. An astringent at the very least." His mother had used witch hazel on her face but he figures that was too much to ask for here.

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seestheman - 2014-11-10 07:19 (UTC) - Expand

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