other sharp things | {irvine sisters}
Aug 14, 2020 19:39:34 GMT -5
Post by hesper hart 🐺 d9f on Aug 14, 2020 19:39:34 GMT -5
Family had always been a... well, it was a complicated subject at the very least. Talon's parents had waited far too long to have children: gone before they were even really full grown. And even still, Talon had made it her life's mission to make them proud. Time and time again, she'd chosen duty. She thought she always would, and yet. And fucking yet.
It was undeniable that she'd been the only thing separating District Nine from complete disaster for well over a decade now. It was undeniable that she had once, for quite some time, been the best option in terms of leadership. And then the riots happened, and so many innocent lives were taken, and so much that she had worked to build came crumbling down, and suddenly she didn't need to hear the whispers on the street to know what was being said.
Aging. Losing her touch. Spineless. Untrustworthy.
Failing.
It left her wondering, for the first time since the beginning of her career, if she was the right fit, and if she could convince the masses that she was. She'd chosen duty every single time. Even when it was difficult. Even if it meant breaking the rules. Even if it meant shaking the very hands that sought to tear her down. And with yet another election looming in the near future, she had the heartbreaking realization that, even if she was not finished with District Nine, it was finished with her.
Family was a complicated subject for Talon Irvine and, if one needed an example, then how was this: her son, who did not know he was her son, who worked for her and claimed he wanted to be just like her one day, was the one who delivered Talon's message to the only other living Irvine in District Nine. A sister. Talon and Shiv, one the feral claw of natural selection and the other a survivor by her own means. Talon couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken with her sister; she hadn't expected her to come.
But when Miller knocked on her office door, he'd said, without a doubt: "Mayor Irvine, your sister has arrived."
She cleared her throat, folded her hands onto the desk in front of her.
"Send her in."
It was undeniable that she'd been the only thing separating District Nine from complete disaster for well over a decade now. It was undeniable that she had once, for quite some time, been the best option in terms of leadership. And then the riots happened, and so many innocent lives were taken, and so much that she had worked to build came crumbling down, and suddenly she didn't need to hear the whispers on the street to know what was being said.
Aging. Losing her touch. Spineless. Untrustworthy.
Failing.
It left her wondering, for the first time since the beginning of her career, if she was the right fit, and if she could convince the masses that she was. She'd chosen duty every single time. Even when it was difficult. Even if it meant breaking the rules. Even if it meant shaking the very hands that sought to tear her down. And with yet another election looming in the near future, she had the heartbreaking realization that, even if she was not finished with District Nine, it was finished with her.
Family was a complicated subject for Talon Irvine and, if one needed an example, then how was this: her son, who did not know he was her son, who worked for her and claimed he wanted to be just like her one day, was the one who delivered Talon's message to the only other living Irvine in District Nine. A sister. Talon and Shiv, one the feral claw of natural selection and the other a survivor by her own means. Talon couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken with her sister; she hadn't expected her to come.
But when Miller knocked on her office door, he'd said, without a doubt: "Mayor Irvine, your sister has arrived."
She cleared her throat, folded her hands onto the desk in front of her.
"Send her in."
