backstage — eurydice &. harper [blitz]
Aug 29, 2020 14:53:14 GMT -5
Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Aug 29, 2020 14:53:14 GMT -5
The first thing Eurydice does when the news of her running go out is fire her campaign manager.
She’s never needed anyone in the past – and she certainly would not start now. When has another’s expertise ever been better than your own? How could they know about the reason she’s doing this for, and even if they do, how would they feel the ever-present ache in her chest that serves as the foundation of this campaign?
How can they match the pain she’s poured into this?
This was a one-woman show, and Eurydice is well aware of it. She absently rubs the many jeweled bracelets on her wrist and carries her eyes to the full-length mirror in her room. In the glass sits a glorious creature, dressed in gold, every inch of her wealth manifest. She’s always known reflections to lie, but not the extent of the said lie. Eurydice looks like a beacon of power when all she is, beneath all the gold and glory, is broken.
For a moment, as she leans closer to the mirror, this brokenness emerges from under the facade and it’s familiar, it’s raw, it’s truly her.
But then she hears the sound of her door opening and her golden armor clicks back into place. She straightens her spine, reaches for an earring on a nearby table, then watches as Harper makes his way across the room to her with all his lax grace that she's taught him.
“Be a dear and help your mother put on her earrings will you? It’s bein’ a fucking asshole as always.” Eurydice offers him the accessory. “I take it that the campaign party is all ready for guests? If the champagne isn’t poured, I am going to be hugely disappointed.” There is also a second reason to why she’d fired the campaign manager and it’s because she already has the best team she could ever wish for: her family.
And she's fine, she's glorious, she's powerful, like she hasn't just lost her other son, like she hasn't just lost a big piece of herself.
Being mayor wouldn't replace that, but perhaps it would make her stop feeling so helpless.
She’s never needed anyone in the past – and she certainly would not start now. When has another’s expertise ever been better than your own? How could they know about the reason she’s doing this for, and even if they do, how would they feel the ever-present ache in her chest that serves as the foundation of this campaign?
How can they match the pain she’s poured into this?
This was a one-woman show, and Eurydice is well aware of it. She absently rubs the many jeweled bracelets on her wrist and carries her eyes to the full-length mirror in her room. In the glass sits a glorious creature, dressed in gold, every inch of her wealth manifest. She’s always known reflections to lie, but not the extent of the said lie. Eurydice looks like a beacon of power when all she is, beneath all the gold and glory, is broken.
For a moment, as she leans closer to the mirror, this brokenness emerges from under the facade and it’s familiar, it’s raw, it’s truly her.
But then she hears the sound of her door opening and her golden armor clicks back into place. She straightens her spine, reaches for an earring on a nearby table, then watches as Harper makes his way across the room to her with all his lax grace that she's taught him.
“Be a dear and help your mother put on her earrings will you? It’s bein’ a fucking asshole as always.” Eurydice offers him the accessory. “I take it that the campaign party is all ready for guests? If the champagne isn’t poured, I am going to be hugely disappointed.” There is also a second reason to why she’d fired the campaign manager and it’s because she already has the best team she could ever wish for: her family.
And she's fine, she's glorious, she's powerful, like she hasn't just lost her other son, like she hasn't just lost a big piece of herself.
Being mayor wouldn't replace that, but perhaps it would make her stop feeling so helpless.
