maws full of fire — eurydice le roux. [ speech ]
Sept 5, 2020 8:17:45 GMT -5
Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Sept 5, 2020 8:17:45 GMT -5
𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐗
In the last few minutes she has before she is to get on stage, Eurydice Le Roux feels what she’s never felt at all before: stage fright.
It isn’t fear, per se, but more a ticking feeling that works its way through her chest and plants itself in her heart, a wing-beat pulse that refuses to fly away. It’s a bird that enters the cage of her heart on its own volition and doesn’t leave. It’s a memory of someone, but before that someone’s face can take shape, there’s a knock at her door.
“It’s time, Mrs. Le Roux.”
Eurydice scowls and rises from her armchair, mustering up some of the fire and the grace of the lioness in it — but all she feels like is a winter creature searching desperately for a burrow to hide from the cruel snow.
The podium is made for her, all gold inlays and polished wood, and the clusters of faces that surround it await her. Standing in front of it, Eurydice’s aware of the power she still bristled with despite her not feeling it.
When she speaks, her words are steel.
“I want this position,” she says. “I want this position to have the power to make substantial change in this district. If I’m going to be your mayor, isn’t it only fair that I be frank with you? I want this position to have the power to stimulate change and to make sure district one doesn’t lose its shine.”
“We’ve always been a legendary district. We’ve always conquered and risen above everyone else. Our legacies have shone in the pages of history and will continue to do so as we go forward because if I know something, that’s family legacies and ways to become emblazoned in a history book.” The smile that cuts her face then is sharp. Her legacy is nothing but a fiery rebellion and Eurydice knows it. “After all, isn't that what this district is made out of? Legacies?”
But, her legacy is also him.
As words well up in her throat, that ticking feeling in her heart returns this time, brings with it a bright face and amber eyes, golden wisps of hair, her beautiful Emmett, her lost Emmett. Eurydice’s throat constricts but instead of giving into the grief that threatens her, she crafts to it something else: anger.
A cold, icy anger that makes her stand taller and brings back the lioness in her.
“As you are all aware, I have had a recent, personal loss in my life,” a more innocent and beautifully euphemistic way to say a dead son, “but surviving that has only given me more strength to become a capable leader. I won’t sit here to tell you what Ursula Fray didn’t do – because it would be a waste of seconds – I am here to tell you what I am going to do. As your mayor, I promise with the entire Le Roux name that District One will prosper. Trade with other districts, more venues for our children to train, honing our strengths. Maybe you all will despise me when I say this but – and children, shut your ears –
District One is fucking selfish.”
Representative of those who dwelt there, she muses but leaves that out.
“So, this year, we’re branching out. Some mayors that contacted me to propose business and I will gladly accept any offers they make. What are those offers? Well, make me mayor and find out.” The jut of her chin is proud, and so is her smile. The capitol thought it could just murder a Le Roux and not suffer the consequences? Even an adopted child of her family had crawled out of the arena alive.
The fires of rebellion were mere flames caught in a lantern as of right now, but when she had enough oil, she would douse every inch of the Capitol with it and let everything burn. Eurydice would bid her time and let her grief simmer.
After all, she had an endless wealth of both.
“Any questions?” Eurydice smiles and all her teeth hidden.
It isn’t fear, per se, but more a ticking feeling that works its way through her chest and plants itself in her heart, a wing-beat pulse that refuses to fly away. It’s a bird that enters the cage of her heart on its own volition and doesn’t leave. It’s a memory of someone, but before that someone’s face can take shape, there’s a knock at her door.
“It’s time, Mrs. Le Roux.”
Eurydice scowls and rises from her armchair, mustering up some of the fire and the grace of the lioness in it — but all she feels like is a winter creature searching desperately for a burrow to hide from the cruel snow.
The podium is made for her, all gold inlays and polished wood, and the clusters of faces that surround it await her. Standing in front of it, Eurydice’s aware of the power she still bristled with despite her not feeling it.
When she speaks, her words are steel.
“I want this position,” she says. “I want this position to have the power to make substantial change in this district. If I’m going to be your mayor, isn’t it only fair that I be frank with you? I want this position to have the power to stimulate change and to make sure district one doesn’t lose its shine.”
“We’ve always been a legendary district. We’ve always conquered and risen above everyone else. Our legacies have shone in the pages of history and will continue to do so as we go forward because if I know something, that’s family legacies and ways to become emblazoned in a history book.” The smile that cuts her face then is sharp. Her legacy is nothing but a fiery rebellion and Eurydice knows it. “After all, isn't that what this district is made out of? Legacies?”
But, her legacy is also him.
As words well up in her throat, that ticking feeling in her heart returns this time, brings with it a bright face and amber eyes, golden wisps of hair, her beautiful Emmett, her lost Emmett. Eurydice’s throat constricts but instead of giving into the grief that threatens her, she crafts to it something else: anger.
A cold, icy anger that makes her stand taller and brings back the lioness in her.
“As you are all aware, I have had a recent, personal loss in my life,” a more innocent and beautifully euphemistic way to say a dead son, “but surviving that has only given me more strength to become a capable leader. I won’t sit here to tell you what Ursula Fray didn’t do – because it would be a waste of seconds – I am here to tell you what I am going to do. As your mayor, I promise with the entire Le Roux name that District One will prosper. Trade with other districts, more venues for our children to train, honing our strengths. Maybe you all will despise me when I say this but – and children, shut your ears –
District One is fucking selfish.”
Representative of those who dwelt there, she muses but leaves that out.
“So, this year, we’re branching out. Some mayors that contacted me to propose business and I will gladly accept any offers they make. What are those offers? Well, make me mayor and find out.” The jut of her chin is proud, and so is her smile. The capitol thought it could just murder a Le Roux and not suffer the consequences? Even an adopted child of her family had crawled out of the arena alive.
The fires of rebellion were mere flames caught in a lantern as of right now, but when she had enough oil, she would douse every inch of the Capitol with it and let everything burn. Eurydice would bid her time and let her grief simmer.
After all, she had an endless wealth of both.
“Any questions?” Eurydice smiles and all her teeth hidden.
