* ͏ ͏ ᴬᴹᴱᴿᴵᑦᴬ'ᔆ ͏ ͏ ͏𝚂𝚆𝙴𝙴𝚃𝙷͟𝙴͟𝙰͟𝚁͟𝚃.
@herwhitmore
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⠀⠀ 𓇚 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ╱ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ELEANOR ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ WHITMORE ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀: ⠀ ⠀⠀ THE ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ PEOPLE’S ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀#VOICE ⠀⠀ 𓂃⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
Joined August 2025
ㅤ back in washington. back to ‘work.’ ㅤ
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ㅤ diplomacy before breakfast should be considered an extreme sport. ㅤ
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ᅠ ah, the usual suspects. they never rest. but neither do you, it seems. don’t carry all of it alone — she brought me back so you wouldn’t have to. ᅠ
ᅠ nothing i couldn’t handle , though the usual problem people reared their heads as usual . eve ignored her work so i picked up even more slack . ᅠ
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ㅤ back in washington. back to ‘work.’ ㅤ
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ㅤ a quiet breath, almost amused. “besides, i’ve seen enough nights like this to know we’ll need each other more than we’d like to admit.” with that, she gathered the papers, her tone smoothing again. “three hours, then. i’ll make sure it counts.” ㅤ
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ㅤ her eyes narrowed just slightly, not in challenge but in recognition. “don’t worry, esmeralda. i don’t plan on being on the wrong side of yours — or anyone’s. not when we’re both here to steady the same ship.” ( … ) ㅤ
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ㅤ i’ll have a story the country can swallow.” without waiting for dismissal, she crossed to the door — not hurried, never hurried. “and next time you decide not to hold my hand, remember — i don’t need yours, either.” ㅤ
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ㅤ her chin tilted just slightly, the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth. “i never did care much for luck, esmeralda. results are cleaner.” she rose, collecting the file as if it weighed nothing at all. “go prep your president. by the time you bring her down ( … ) ㅤ
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you never even told him you love him.
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ㅤ a flick of her hand opened the file, only to shut it again. “defense can write strategy. i’ll write empathy. one of them plays well on camera — and it isn’t theirs.” ㅤ
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ㅤ the papers landed on her desk, but she didn’t touch them right away. her focus stayed on esmeralda. “twelve men.” she echoed, voice low. “and by morning, the country will know.” ( … ) ㅤ
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ㅤ “that’s a dangerous thing to say in this building — being the person someone wants to see.” a pause, her tone softening, inviting. “so tell me … is this a favor, a crisis, or simply bad luck on my part?” ㅤ
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ㅤ her gaze lifted from the stack of neatly marked briefs on her desk, the faintest arch of a brow greeting the interruption. at this hour, few knocked without reason. a smile, warm but deliberate, curved her lips. ( … ) ㅤ
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