thearena | i said hey, girl with one eye

Entry tags:

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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Despite all the bad blood between them, Clara knows that Dr. Norton's a good doctor. And he's the only medical doctor that she knows of who's in the Arena. It's for these two reasons that she asked Alex to bring her to him after being jumped by Venus. She knows that there isn't anything he can do to save her eye (as much as she'd love to be in denial about that, she can't be. The way the...mush, if that's an appropriate way to put it, feels against her cheek is more than enough for her to know that it's been destroyed). The only comfort is that she's fairly certain she won't survive the Arena and, based on what happened last time she died, she'll wake up in the Capitol completely fine.

She lets Alex explain what happened in an oddly precise, cold, and clinical way that's so alien to hear in his voice. Alex has always been a lot of things, but not cold and clinical. Once he's done, he then puts her down so that she's standing on her own and, despite the burns to his face from the hot oil, leaves to try to track down Clara's assailant.

Clara doesn't know what to say after that. She could try dancing around the issue, or deflect it and grouse about Alex not sticking around, but she doesn't have the energy for that right now. She's hurting and exhausted and just wants to curl up in a ball and cry, but right now isn't the time for that. Instead she gives Dr. Norton a weary look and asks "How much is this going to hurt?"

Right now, it's all about scouting. Finding the places that have useful supplies, finding the danger spots, the places that might make for good hideouts. They've split up to do this - it's a risk, but it lets them cover more ground, at least for a little while.

Joel is poking around the store when he spots movement near a counter. He ducks down until he can circle around and figure out who it is. When he spots Clara, he lets out a breath, standing up.

"Find anything use - Jesus Christ," he says, shocked when he gets a look at her. "What the hell - "

Clara's starting to get used to getting this reaction, and honestly it's kind of a relief that even people who've been through all of this a few times aren't so used to this that seeing someone they know missing an eye is blase.

"I don't think you'd find any of this useful, unless you secretly have an interest in high end make up and skin care," Clara says, knowing where he was going with his original question. She glances back in the mirror to smooth out the blush a little bit before turning back to face him. "I was jumped in the food court. We fought, we both lost. How's it been for you so far?"

Edited 2014-08-25 02:46 (UTC)

Groot wasn't really one to care about knives or other weapons, not unless Rocket or his other friends needed them, but for once, it was he who needed a blade. The outfit of ribbons he was forcibly wrapped in is so tightly woven around him he can't rip them off. Added to the fact his body isn't functioning properly, he can't expand his body to help in the process. No, the Terrans effectively trapped him.

It was annoying and nothing of the kinds of outfits he'd willingly wear. He was dressed like this for their amusement, which was degrading.

He moved into the store, nearing the knife section when he sees a little Terran over there. This was a death match, or he was told, and it's highly likely that she was alerted to his approach by the heavy fall of his footsteps, so he wonders if she'll attack him. The wondering shifts his annoyed expression into one of curiosity.

Edited 2014-08-25 06:14 (UTC)

Clara doesn't know what to expect. The only Tribute that she can think of with footsteps that are that heavy and that easy to hear is Alex and...well. She knows what his footsteps sound like, and it isn't this. Which is a relief because, as much as she may love him, it means she doesn't have to surrender yet another knife over to him.

Whatever she was expecting, a giant, mobile, ribbon covered tree definitely isn't it.

She has her knife at the ready until she notices the curious look on its (his? her? She doesn't know how trees go about this sort of stuff) face, which makes her lower the knife so it's hanging at her side. "Hi?" On one hand, the tree could be a fellow Tribute, considering the number of aliens she's seen running around. On the other hand, it could be a muttation of some sort, just waiting to strike, so she waits to put the knife away until she's completely sure it isn't here to cause her harm.

Dennett stares after Alex for a long moment. It's another reminder, because Dennett had done that to him, turned him into that cold, erm...machine.

But Alex wasn't going to listen, even with this injury to his wife, so after a moment he gives up. He can't fix Alex. At least, not here. But that?

Well, he can try. He settles down next to her, his gaze behind his glasses getting clinical--not quite as cold as Alex's. It's a different kind of dispassion, at least. He tilts her head up, examining it. "It depends. Do you think you have an intercranial damage? Any splinters or shards or other foreign matter?"

"Clara? That you?" Susannah's voice comes from a much lower location than Clara had probably last seen her. But then, she'd still had her prosthetic legs when Clara would have last seen her, unless she was paying particular attention at the cornucopia.

Her hands rest lightly at her side, although they hold the pried-off skate blades from her cappies. She doesn't look inclined to use them right now, though.

For her benefit, he slows to a stop, giving her the room she might need to not overreact. The knife is little threat to him, so he doesn't even bother paying it much attention, but he's still cautious more for her sake. It's better for her when she lowers it, gives him less of a reason to see her as a threat. Less reason to act on that notion. He needs more reason than some of his friends to jump to violent action or killing.

The Terran's greeting is unsure. Perhaps she's wondering if he's sentient.

"I am Groot," it's an introduction, as clearly indicated when he brings his hand to his ribbon wrapped chest. His tone is friendly in a neutral way, as if putting the type of encounter this will be in her hands.

Clara knows that when Alex had acted like this back home, it was Dr. Norton's doing. Hell, she finally knew the whole truth about it these days compared to the lies she was fed initially. But what Clara knows right now is that none of this is his fault and that, as much as she'd love to yell at the people who made Alex act like this, they aren't here and this isn't Dennett's doing.

Anyways, it would probably seem ungrateful for her to pin it on him, considering he's doing her a favor instead of letting her die of an infection or whatever could potentially happen after the traumatic loss of an eye.

"I don't think so," Clara said softly, trying to figure out where to look with her remaining eye. "What can be done? I mean, considering how limited resources are here."

Clara slides the knife into her belt and puts her hands up as if to show that she's no threat to...him? The voice makes the...Groot sound like a him. "Hi Groot, I'm Clara."

Which is when she really notices the ribbons wrapped around him. She saw them before, of course, but they didn't quite click until now. "Do you want me to cut those off of you? They look kind of tight."

Clara would have been trying to make sure she at least saw everyone she knew when they were at the Cornucopia, but this past Cornucopia hadn't been normal and between the explosions and how laser focused she had been on finding Alex and Dave that she hadn't really bothered to be on the lookout for anyone from District 10. And while Clara was aware that Susannah's an amputee, it wasn't something that exactly clicked for her because she usually saw her with her prosthetics on, so hearing her from that much lower is a bit of a shock.

"Yeah, it's me," Clara says, almost turning to look with her right eye out of instinct before she remembered that, no, that wouldn't do jack shit, and turned over her left shoulder to see Susannah. "How've you been holding up?"

It's not her first stop, but Rose had always half planned to find somewhere with make up sooner or later, to find something to replace the lipstick Jolie had so carefully applied to her lips before they sent her in. Her priorities had been order at least, to find needles, as many as she can, and a change of clothes, the black boat neck sweater hiding most of her bruises and the black boots and jeans chosen for practicality but now it's time for some war paint.

She doesn't look to the mirrors as she passes them, not wanting to see again what they've done to her face, not wanting to feel that sickness and anger again. But when she sees Clara she stops, frowning slightly as she studies her and even though she doesn't take a hold of it her hand falls to the needles strapped to her thighs. The woman is already injured though, and maybe that's what keeps her standing there, standing there and not attacking.

"It's Clara, isn't it?" She says carefully, mindful to not be too loud and Rose still keeps her distance.

The familiar voice takes Clara by some surprise. The sight of the woman's face and the still healing brand is slightly terrifying (and reminds her all too much of Venus coming after her), but a good reminder as any that, as much as Clara's been through, the people that the Capitol had imprisoned have been through worse. She's almost tempted to go straight for her knife, just in case, but decides against it. Better not to accidentally draw an attack on her if she doesn't have to.

"Mmhmm. And you're Rose, right? From the volleyball game at the Crowning," she says, half tempted to add in something about her not being a team player, but that feels like rubbing salt in a wound before she even says it. "Are you looking for something?"

Hopefully other than another kill to add to the list.

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.

Joel is like that - occasionally still experiences those shocks, though he bounces back from them quickly.

He won't ask about the details, just shake his head at the state of things.

"Looks to me like you won, if you're still alive," he points out frankly. Then again, that's always been Joel's idea of 'winning'. If you're still breathing, if you live to see another day (even if you can't actually see it) then you've come out ahead.

"You must be alright on supplies, then," he points out casually. If she's got the wherewithal to be doing her makeup, she must be okay on food at least.

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.

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i said hey, girl with one eye

[Closed to Dennett Norton]

A Touch of Class!

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The Authority

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[Closed to Dennett Norton]

The Authority

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Touch of Class

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