princess complex. [ val x leia ]

[✨ zozo.]

If one more person asks her about Cynthia Rose Delgado she's going to shatter her wine glass with her own bare hands.

Had she had a meltdown in her office when Jacinta Salazar had thrusted that spear through her re-election campaign's eye? Classified. The fact of the matter was that District One was supposed to have won the 77th Hunger Games and Seven's mayor swaggers round like a drunk, taking credit for something he doesn't even know he did. Idiot lower districts, what's new? 

Speaking of men who love sleeping around, Head Honcho Snake himself slithers through the crowd, Daddy of their Newest Victor, women clinging to his arms like school girls. Leia downs her glass and orders a tequila shot, reporters littering the floor as she offers quote and snippet about how proud One is to have made such an impact on the past Games, all glasses up and 'here's to the next one', fuck, she orders the next one, eyes on the snake like a hawk, one martini too many and her vision's getting fuzzy.

Talon in silk sheets, she might knock on her door again tonight but she doesn't wanna look desperate. Liquid confidence and she leaves the kid at the bar a hefty tip, collects her things, and swoops in to the crowds to strike.

"Excuse us, ladies," she smiles at some reporters with bright pink hair and green lipstick, nabbing her victim by the arm just the right amount to hurt. She drags him to the side, Districts unified and all that bullshit, god that last shot was a bad idea wasn't it?

It's times like these she wished she could try her own produce but coke was for her clientel and office administrators with pretty faces and dead eyes, not faces of Districts. Seven's is here, somewhere, but she needs to talk to her father. Rugged, handsome, she suppose money talks. Left hand, gold band around his finger - 24karats because she knows her shit, of course.

She knows more that just her shit. She knows that band doesn't mean anything to him, can tell by the look on his face, can tell by his dead eyes 

"Congratulations, Mr. Salazar" she hisses, the language of his kind.

She almost slurs her words.

Almost.

[Deleted]

God, it feels so good to not give a shit anymore. You never realize it, between firearms and five kids, I fuck up there I'd find myself in the town squad with a crosshair on my temple. I fuck up there and my kids- anyways, here it's different. It's all parties, all whiskey and ridiculous pompedours; Talon and I spent all night discussing capitol etiquette. Well, not all night, we drank and laughed and I might just have a partner with the strongest woman in the districts. 

Other than Marina, of course. 

I can't find the other mayors, it's just been bar hopping and waiting. Not Ripsaw, I'll meet him eventually -- he'll meet me. I need interdistrict, good words you know? Shit that makes people remember my platform's stronger than just one old man. Bloody Mary in hand and ignoring the drunk capitolite talking to me and I don't pay much attention, keeping my name under my tongue and pretending I'm just Val. Just Valentino, no last name, no attachments. 

Nothing but nails dug into my forearm, involuntary reflex and I almost knocked her head, bloody mary spilling over and fuck. Do I know her? Squinting, lemon the breath, brown hair. Brown hair so that means she's-

"Congratulations, Mr. Salazar." 

Oh yeah, she's from the districts. It's vindictive, it's sharp, it's- "I like your tone" - taunting. If it weren't for the heels she'd be shorter than me, 
that's nice. 

"Are you a stylist of my daughter?" Maybe it'll be a compliment, hell if I know, sipping the bottom of my glass.