where gold rifts meet // eurydice

Valentino has been a lot of things in his life time, but blind had never been one of them. 

It was the second phone call he made the day he set in office, earlier than scheduled and a phone book half empty. Shiv and Vasco would have access to their offices as well, and of course the incumbents as well. And then that just left whoever was wealthy enough for a home phone -- anyone paying attention knew of Eurydice Le Roux at this point. A woman who's first impression is her name alone; that's all you need to know. 

He's already warmed up to her before he calls the number provided; it set them apart, victor children. Everybody has lost and grieved, disgustingly so he hates to admit, and he is sure she feels the same. Hot rage shame, the hate you feel to watch your flesh and blood lose. He wants to call her to tell her it doesn't make a difference. 

Day two or day six. 

All that changes is the torture. 

Violetta could have died day one or in the finale to Stella herself, and it would have been the same damn, ugly feeling. "Hello," he says instead, "it's Valentino Salazar, the mayor of District Seven." Already, part of him wants to pretend he had sat the seat for years. The eagerness is pathetic, he convinces himself so. 

"I'm sure you've heard of me, as I've heard of you." As the moon hears of the sun and all that, as Emmett heard of Violetta once. At least once. How he volunteered knowing what happened to her. 

It's hard. Not to blame them for it. 

Valentino holds the phone tighter to his ear, "I'm confident you'll be seated in office soon enough, so."


"Let's talk business."