i will seize destiny by the throat

silas sanford / vice president of the united states

[silassanford]

annekane​:

Baltimore felt more reminiscent for her than Bethesda, but she liked her house and her plants and having Alex there.  She liked how it nestled next to DC and close enough to visit her dad and her kids.  Close to work and still good old Maryland.  And the people she considered friends and found family…  “Family shouldn’t just be based on blood,” she insisted, thinking they sound like an unpleasant bunch if they were so hateful towards an in-law.  The only ones she’d really known were Rosie’s parents, but that was a whole other story.  “The world is full of opportunities,” she pointed out, though she understood where he was coming from in that regard.  The reason she’d first moved here was for all the legal jobs and potential.  Plus a steady place to raise her Katy and Pete.  “I probably would have followed them if they’d moved, or travelled a lot.”  It wouldn’t have bothered her, just made her sad if she couldn’t see them as often.  She wondered, would he give up his dreams for Henry?  Being a parent meant making sacrifices, didn’t it?  “Did you run for him, then?”

“But it is in the South,” he chuckled lowly, giving a casual shrug as if ultimately, he was unbothered by that fact (whether that was actually true or not..). And that’s why I barely have any. But the fact was, that he’d left behind his friends when he’d left to go to university... and he’d never looked back. And besides, what had all of those people become? Not much of anything. He knew that hanging around people like that would only hold him back. He needed to be around people as hungry, as ambitious as him. It challenged him to do better. To be more. “Henry is...” Not like him. To chase opportunities... (And he knew that meant his son would stay close to him... which he selfishly was glad for.) “Well, there’s going to be great opportunities for him in DC down the line,” he replied cryptically. Silas had his plans for him... He was a little taken aback by the question, though it’s one that he had answered plenty of times in a political context. (I ran for my son, for the next generation, to make the future better for everyone...) “I ran because...” Because he had been depressed when his son had left for university. Because by running, he could ask Henry to be by his side. But there are other reasons, too. Ones he can say. “I needed something that was mine. That I had accomplished. The company... that was the legacy of my wife’s family, not mine.” And everyone always looked at him like he didn’t deserve it. “Do you get what I mean?” He asked her, wondering if she could understand.

[silassanford]

royisms​:

     She couldn’t say she was surprised by his surprise – save for a few occasions ( namely, their last argument ), Amanda had never told him straight to his face what she wanted. It wasn’t personal, really; while a rather gifted public speaker, she’d always had trouble expressing her emotions to partners, an alarm inside her always went off and warned her she’d look weak. This was an exception, and it was hard, and she didn’t really know what to do after. 

     That would do the trick though. His offer to go inside… It’s what she’d been hoping for, there was no kidding herself there. She’d gone to his house and – fine, she hadn’t knocked on his door but she also hadn’t driven away when he approached her car. She hadn’t cut him off when he talked to her. And she had just confessed, even if through a gentler sentence, that she thought of him. That she cared, still.

     It was a terrible idea – going inside. Amanda hesitated – would staying out here be better? There seemed to be no winning in this situation: neighbors and reporters could have a field day with pictures of them both walking into his house and talking outside, like this. And maybe deep down she missed his house, missed being inside it so often, but her rational brain tried to convince her that yes, that would be better. “Yeah,” she nearly cughed her response out, promptly turning her car off and stepping outside. This felt surreal. Walking the steps up to his door, walking inside after him. 

     She could already hear the headlines the next morning and, perhaps what’s worse, her boss screaming at her. And he’d be right. But all she culd focus on then was the sound of the door closing behind them and the silence of his home. “Silas,” for the second time that day, his name felt comfortable on her lips. And then the rest just came pouring out of her, a cascade of words she didn’t even know she’d been keeping inside. “It wasn’t just sex. What I said… Back then. I didn’t mean that, it was… I was trying to hurt you.” A pause. “Obviously it was more than that.”

He felt too exposed out here in the open, both from the figurative threat of paparazzi and prying eyes, as well the fact his body still couldn’t shake off the threat that it had experience earlier (which didn’t matter that it had turned out to be false). Silas did feel better once they went inside, as he was on his home turf, though it wasn’t as if she’d managed to make him feel absolutely awful standing right where they were now months ago. Funny, how much had happened in this little bit of space. How he’d pinned her on the door on the first night this had all began. A place of beginnings and endings. And now...? She says his name and he had no idea what might come next. He has even less energy to fight her today than he did the first time. But that isn’t what she says at all. And perhaps if she had, it would have made things so much easier. He could have carved her out of him, once and for all. He could move on and forget her. Which is what he thought he wanted all these months. At the very least, he knew that’s what would have been better. Men who kiss women that they shouldn’t don’t become president.  There’s a sharp part of him, an instinctual part of him, that wants to throw the words back in her face. That part which always wanted to inflict hurt when it had been hurt. It was how he protected himself. But then, there is a worse part to himself: the self-loathing. He looked as he had the day they’d fought; weary and defeated. “But you were right about me.” He had lied to her. He had lied to her because it was the only way he could get her to stay. All of those things were still true. Say it was just sex, a voice in his head tells him. He should try to get her to get away from him, for her own good. The only kindness he could do her. “You did the right thing.” Getting as far away from him as possible. “You saw who I was. I chose my job over everything.” And he would always make that choice... wouldn’t he?

[silassanford]

royisms​:

     They’d never really been great with words – it wasn’t lost on Amanda that communication hadn’t been their greatest strength. Not on that first night, when everything seemed to be spoken in code, not any of the times she asked to see him again, not when they talked on the phone, not when he cooked her dinner. They had always tiptoed around the truth and what they truly meant to say; it really showed how politics ran through both of their veins that they feared anything too clear might come hurt them in the future. Their entire relationship was purposefully kept off the record, too.

     Driving here herself and him getting out of his house and walking up to her car — this might be the riskiest they’d ever been. But after tonight, she couldn’t help herself. She’d been doing so good ( or so she told herself ), she’d been ignoring him and succeeding at not crossing his path unless entirely necessary, and then he’d kissed her. And, fuck, he was right. She’d kissed him back. She wouldn’t go so far and say she was as much to blame… But she couldn’t shake it all off. Obviously. She’d driven up to see him, no less.

     “I didn’t think I’d have to live with it,” she repeated after him. She could relate to that much. She also… Hadn’t wanted to stop him. Maybe that was the scariest to her. Amanda eyed his front door and cleared her throat. Surely there would be neighbors ready to call the media as soon as she stepped into his house. “Do you…” she started but left the question lingering between them. Was there a subtle way to ask to come inside without being invited? Knowing all the risks? Maybe not. “I wanted to see you,” she admitted, surprising herself with how raw her statement was. “I mean– I wanted to know you were… Alright.” And also thinking of me.

When she echoed his words back to him he flinched, because it can’t help but feel like a knife plunging into him. Did she mean for the words to hurt or was it just simply the blunt truth? He wanted to be angry at her in that moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Perhaps because he knew it would have been unfair of him to be so, considering the circumstances. Or perhaps simply because he just couldn’t bear to be angry at her no matter what. The time since they had stopped seeing each other had given a lot of time to reflect over the memories of all the moments they had spent together. How it had become clear she had been his weak spot all of those months. Because all that he had done with her, all he had allowed himself to do with her, had gone against every rule that he had carefully set for himself all his life. He’s on the verge of sigh, frustrated once again with himself for the lapse of judgement that he allowed himself, even if he had thought in that particular moment that it might have been his last hour on earth. He should have been stronger. He’s waiting for an answer for why she was here. Or otherwise, for her to just leave.  He’s caught off guard by her words. By her confession. She wanted to see him? She wanted to see if she was alright? The surprise was clearly written on his expression, which thank god masked all else that he felt in that moment. In that moment he became acutely aware that they’re right out on the street, where anyone could see them. “Do you...” He cast a glance back at his house. “Do you want to continue conversation inside? 

[silassanford]

royisms​:

     Her mind was spinning – it had been ever since that second, the precise moment that their lips had touched again – and it was flooded with images and sensations of the months she’d kept bottled away. The night had been going too well before the alarm went off, she should have known something was bound to wreck her plans of a proper night, something always did. She never would have guessed what happened – she really couldn’t make these things up. Every movement, every word, every glance after the alarm went off and she was rushed into that room had led her further down the spiral she was now at the bottom of… She just didn’t know how to crawl back out.

     She’d had a plan – to go home, run a warm bath, fall asleep to a movie she didn’t care about only to not be in a silent room by herself, but as soon as she got into her car, her shaking hands and trembling feet appeared to have a different idea. It wasn’t long until she was parked outside of his house, and she couldn’t act surprised if she tried ( and she tried ). She’d seen him leave the White House before her, and she suspected he was home already. Maybe there was a part of her that really wanted him to notice her outside, but she didn’t step out of her car. She didn’t ring his bell, she didn’t ask to come in. She just sat in the driver’s seat and stared ahead, with her hands clutching the wheel like her life depended on it.

     Amanda saw some movement from the corner of her eye but it had happened before – she’d been sitting there for a good ten minutes and more than a few people had walked past her car. Maybe she should have felt this time to be different but she didn’t – and even then, the knocks on the window weren’t that surprising. Only one hand left the wheel to roll the glass down and only then did she finally look out and up at the face in front of her. This was a mistake. Her lips parted and closed again as she searched for words that escaped her completely. Someone could see. She reminded herself why it had ended, why this was a bad idea. “Uhm…” Bad idea. Just leave. “That was…” I wish I could do it again. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He realized, now standing here, that he shouldn’t have come to her car. But his feet had brought him here all on their own. Every part of him was too exhausted to make good decisions. As if he didn’t know that well enough from what he had already done today. And besides, wasn’t it telling enough that if she had wanted to actually see him, she would have knocked on his front door? Perhaps she had come here to yell at him again. And only the mercy of the stressful day had stopped her from doing so. If such was the case, much like the last, he wouldn’t fight back.  He’s looking at her, but he doesn’t say anything. She was the one right on his doorstep. The one who should explain herself. She looked as if she struggled to find the words to say, but even in the awkward silence he doesn’t say anything. As if he knew any more what to say after today. What followed is a scolding, but it’s half-hearted at best. Is that what she had come here to say? As if he didn’t know that in the very moment that he had done it.  “I didn’t think I’d have to live with it,” he answered honestly, as in the moment he hadn’t exactly been thinking that there would be a tomorrow. There was only that moment, with nothing to lose, with no consequences. “You shouldn’t have either,” he continued, hinting at the way she had reciprocated the kiss. She should have pushed him away. Wouldn’t that have been easier for the both of them? How he would have put her out of his mind once and for all. But instead they’re here. 

[silassanford]

He has to shut his phone off to keep it from ringing, amidst the endless barrage of calls of people who wanted to know precisely what had happened in the White House that night. Nothing had happened. And yet... he cannot help but feel shaken. He had been faced with his own mortality, but perhaps worse than that, that of his son’s. He hadn’t felt like this when Theresa Wright had died, but then again, he hadn’t been there either.  As if the chaos of the gun shot wasn’t enough, he’d encountered Amanda, who he hadn’t seen since... what felt like a lifetime ago. He knew, logically, he would have seen her again eventually, as if there was any way that they would have been able to avoid each other forever in this city. But he hadn’t been expecting to see her today. He hadn’t expected to see her today. He hadn’t expected... any of today.  The sun had set and creeping paranoia brought him to the window of his home, peeking out as if he thought that there might be someone out there coming from him, even though he knew that today had been nothing but the product of bad luck and a false alarm. He jolted when he saw a car parked on the other side of the street. He can see the car containing the security that he’s assigned have someone come out of the door to investigate. But he already knew who that car belonged to. Without any thought to appearance (a wrinkly dress shirt with rolled up sleeves), he went out of his house to meet up with the approaching security guard to assure them it’s fine. And then, went up to the door of the familiar car. He paused, took a deep breath, and knocked lightly on the window...

[silassanford]

mikecooperr​:

Silas Sanford as Vice President marked a victory in Mike’s eyes.  It showed that their party still loomed as a competitive force for voters.  On an individual scale, Mike wasn’t bothered.  He shrugged and offered Silas one of the bar stools at the ridiculously large marble island.  “She’s already been President, people are tired of the same thing. You’re the new star,” Mike insisted and he was confident that Silas would garner more attention, regardless of his title.  There’d already been months of headlines and they were just getting started.  Next election he’d pick up a new title anyways.  “There’s plenty of ways to get around that.”  Mike wasn’t concerned about the laws.  Money talked and got things through, even if they were buried in a side clause.  He considered all the avenues, sipping on the edge of his pint glass.  “We have the Senate, and House seats will be up for grabs this year.”

He easily slid into a seat, but Silas hasn’t been able to relax for weeks now, once it had finally sunk in that there was no way to change the results and that he was stuck being vice president. Mike’s easy words of comfort did little to assuage him about the current situation. It didn’t matter if people were tired with the president. The fact was that she was president. Not him. Mike didn’t seem the least bit able to understand what this might feel like for him, though the fact was that he’d always had the emotional range of a teaspoon. Silas had no idea of the deeper, darker meaning of Mike’s words and instead merely considered it to be to be more blind optimism. Nothing more than hope to flip the House back, which might allow Republicans control of passing bills. He slumped, taking a sip from the bottle. “And I’m a sitting duck until then,” he muttered bitterly. Powerless in the most powerful building in the United States. “If we can even get those seats. And then if we don’t?” Silas always thought about the worst case scenario.

[silassanford]

annekane​:

[ Text: Silas ] I’m joking. [ Text: Silas ] Maybe just some extensions. [ Text: Silas ] Well if that’s the case I’ll start outlining your briefings in gold. [ Text: Silas ] Yes, and then I’ll make my own informed decisions.

[ Text: Anne ] Do it. [ Text: Anne ] I want to see the faces of the rest of the Cabinet. [ Text: Anne ] I will look favourably upon that in your review. [ Text: Anne ] Okay, so what new thing does Alex get to buy while you get your motorcycle?

[silassanford]

annekane​:

[ Text: Anne ] Nothing too drastic. Blue highlights? [ Text: Anne ] I won’t be going anywhere unless someone decides to fire me. [ Text: Anne ] Alright Mr. I Told You, what else is in the cards?

[ Text: Anne ] I don’t think you have a normal definition of not too drastic. [ Text: Anne ] We’ll have to see your next performance review... [ Text: Anne ] I’m kidding. [ Text: Anne ] Oh, so now you want my advisement?

[silassanford]

annekane​:

[ Text: Silas ] Wait until you see my new hair next week. [ Text: Silas ] Why? Did you think we’re going to run off together in it? [ Text: Silas ] My salary isn’t that bad.

[ Text: Anne ] What are you doing to your hair!? [ Text: Anne ] Well, that didn’t cross my mind until you said it just now. [ Text: Anne ] I’m going to be racking up a lot of I told you so’s this month, it seems.

[silassanford]

annekane​:

[ Text: Silas ] I’ve decided to ignore that suggestion on biased grounds. [ Text: Silas ] I’ll find one eventually. [ Text: Silas ] Or just get the motorcycle.

[ Text: Anne ] I’m sorry you can’t see that I’m right. [ Text: Anne ] I see you’re really going full midlife crisis. [ Text: Anne ] How does Alex feel about your potential purchase?

[silassanford]

annekane​:

[ Text: Silas ] Never? I was stressed in a porsche this morning. [ Text: Silas ] I’d rather have something more modern. [ Text: Silas ] In a nice mint green. 🌿

[ Text: Anne ] I think that’s a you problem. [ Text: Anne ] Hm, what about a Mercedes Benz?  [ Text: Anne ] Well, if it makes you happy...

[silassanford]

mikecooperr​:

( @silassanford​ )

So it’s not what either of them wanted​, but so what?  Mike doesn’t let that bog him down.  Silas is in the White House, this wing or that wing, and the news has gone absolutely crazy over it.  He had every confidence Silas would handle it with ease and emerge like no other Vice President had before.  A name people would remember this time, a man of many accomplishments.  “Need a drink before the big day tomorrow, Sanford?  Or whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.”  There was plenty in the fridge, he just happened to grab two bud lights. “You’re going to be the star of the show and these next four years will be fantastic.” 

Mike Cooper would shine a turd and call it a win. It’s the kind of bullshit that they had bonded over. But on this occasion, Silas isn’t feeling it to be just a minor speedbump, or as Mike seemed to be touting it, a victory. This was his reputation on the line. His legacy. Not Mike’s. So how could he possibly understand what this was all like for him? He almost wanted to believe in Mike’s delusions that the next four years were going to be as glorious as they had planned at the beginning of this campaign. “Thanks,” he said without another word, though no doubt he’ll go home and have something much stronger. But the compulsion to keep up appearances was strong. “You know the president is going to try and stop everything I do, don’t you?” He told him, cracking open the beer easily against the counter. “She’s the star of the show. She’s president.” Not me. 

[silassanford]

okrhondabyrd​:

( @silassanford​ )

When she arrived in the room, it was only silence and the podium, just as she liked it when she was rehearsing.  Rows of empty folding chairs and staff scurrying distantly past in the hallways.  Poem and pen in hand, she spread out the papers carefully and adjusted the dead microphone.

    ‘How many times have we driven past the old stretched roads…’

It must have been two or three times she got through the whole poem before she noticed anyone else lingering in the door.  (‘What’s blue goes unsaid: something old, something new, something borrowed, plucked ahead; and then there’s someone red…’ ) She paused, grinning and gesturing for her former colleague to come in.  “Well speak of the Republican.  You caught me running away from my publisher.”  It’s not personal, it’s just that disagreeing with him made Rhonda a more noticeable senator over the years and she has to stick with middle ground in front of the cameras.  “Need someone to hold up a fake Bible?”  She offered, stepping down and collecting her latest work back into her arms, cradling it close.

It seemed he wasn’t the first person with the idea to sneak in some alone time at the venue, which he had been beaten by a few minutes. So he’s left at the doorway, deciding it too rude to interrupt her poem, and he always found it quite fascinating to watch people when they thought they were alone. Eventually, he’s spotted by her, that usual, well-practiced smile on his lips as he stepped into the room fully. “Seems you’ve found a good hiding place. Though I’m not sure how Secret Service will feel about that,” he replied. He doubted any room was meant to be left unsupervised with someone in it. They’ve been on and off sparring partners in the public eye over the years, as it made for good television, and made both of them recognizable figures in their respective parties. He drew closer to the stage, climbing up, on the other side of the podium from her. With a slight tilt of his head and a shot at the book she held, he grinned, “Are you offering? As I didn’t bring one.” 

[silassanford]

annekane​:

Her smile tightens when he gives he that look about the coffee, and she knows that’s strike one.  Right, there’s a different dynamic between them now.  In title, at least.  “Noted,” more than just the outfit.  “I’ll have Jim find out what the Second Gentleman is wearing.”  All business it is today then.  When he asks about her folder in a rather subtle and concerning way she flips over the paper clip and shuffles through its contents.  “It’s your introductory briefing.  You can officially open it at midnight, like a reverse glass slipper.”  Taped up and complete with the presidential seal on the front. “I, or a representative, will be here every day to deliver the PDB.  Normally this includes a discussion with the President, dull or otherwise. I can make an exception.”  She offered, and though it wasn’t a guarantee she doubted anyone would object given the circumstances.  “With that aside, I also have a full list of your security protocols for tomorrow.” She handed him that pile of papers and let him have a few moments to look through. “Any questions, Mr. Vice President elect?” Merely a formality to state his office.

The old Silas would have ripped open the folder like a kid on Christmas, but instead he seemed to regard the object as if it was going to self destruct if he opened it before he was supposed to. “I’ll keep the discussion with the president,” he answered promptly, at the option that he skip it. It was up to her to interpret whether that was due to a sense of duty or because he wouldn’t pass up a chance to be an annoyance to the president. Or if he was ensuring to avoid any blatant perception that he refused to work with her. He looked over the paper detailing the security for tomorrow, his eyes only rising when she used his new title. It echoed like a death sentence. “No questions, just a request.” His expression becomes completely serious; no jokes, no smiling now. “Tomorrow, and thereafter, the priority is the safety of my son.” Over mine, was the implication; that which he cannot say, which would go against her duty. But it is a plea, from friend to friend, from parent to parent. “You have in your hands that which is most precious to me.” Henry’s life.

[silassanford]

annekane​:

Security was all hands on deck for the Inauguration, this one in particular with its historic outcome.  Every inch of the Capitol building had to have someone monitoring in person or on a screen.  It’s standard protocol to let the Vice President Elect know in advance and she walked into his office with a coffee in hand, folder tucked in her arm.  Eyes doing a quick scan of all his paperwork before he ushers her into the seat across from him, which she takes and sets the cup beside it to cool on the ground.  Her first instinct when she hears the joke is to say something like not funny, you don’t want something like that to happen.  But she’s come to know him better than that.  “Are you nervous?”  Past all the jokes and public appearances, had anyone asked?

Another day, a friendly face would have been a comforting sight, but on a day like today, it did nothing to alleviate the crushing weight that this psychological loss was on him. When she set the cup down on his desk he shot her a look that at another time he would have vocalized with a playful smirk: Couldn’t have got me one too? “Nervous?” He said aloud, as if it was the first time he’s heard the word. It had hardly crossed his mind to worry about being nervous, because he’d been practicing for this day long before he’d even begun his campaign. From the moment that the courage had been born in him that he could dare even believe that this was possible, he had been ready for this moment. But this moment had been meant to be different. “Of having my wardrobe choices leaked to the First Gentleman and having him steal them? Yes,” he answered after only a single beat missed. She’s not the first to ask that question, or the many other questions like it, which all the sound to same him: Do you think you’re going to fuck up? It’s what the world was waiting for. His eyes dragged over to the folder. “Is that the list of my many fans?” He went on with a thin smile, a sardonic tint to his tone. “Maybe one of them will save me from having to listen to the President’s dull speech.” 

[silassanford]

The purpose for their scheduled meeting is Inauguration Day security. This is his last day in his old office. In his old home. As of tomorrow, he will be officially moving into the Vice President’s residence at Number One Observatory Circle. While the mood of his office is celebratory after his win in the Senate, that same mood does not befall the vice president to be. She arrived into his office amidst his desk being strewn with what seemed like a thousand documents (which had gone untouched for the last five or so minutes). He greeted her with an elegant flourish of his hand to indicate for her to sit down, which she did. “Don’t worry,” he joked with a low, dark chuckle, “I’m not planning on starting my term with a riot.” But that was exactly the kind of stunt that Silas was known for. The old Silas. 

[silassanford]

dead draw ( a dead draw may refer to a position in which it is impossible for either player to win. ) [ date undetermined ; prior to election night ]

He forgets her, day by day. It is the feel of her body against his that goes first. The ghost of the memories of her skin slips through his fingers. The way her soft lips felt against it when he would steal kisses whenever he could. Always in the mornings. It was always unbelievable when he woke up next to her. Now, the bed lay empty beside him. Cold as the goodbye they had given each other. The scent of her remains in his sheets. It’s hard to keep track how many times he washes them and he almost feels insane that he feels like he imagines the smell of green apples; like autumn, when they had met. Except it had already been cold then, with winter creeping in. And everyone knows that winter always meant death. Perhaps that should have been omen enough to know nothing good would come of any of it. He had hoarded the sound of her voice. He had kept every voicemail she had sent him. He is in a hotel room halfway across the country, having had too many drinks, when he erases the voicemails one by one in a fit of fury. He gets to the last one, but he can’t bring himself to push the delete button one last time. It remains, instead, as a punishment. It was some weeks later that he’s half asleep in the campaign bus when he’s trying to sort through his barrage of voicemails when he accidentally deletes hers. He tried, though he knew that it was in vain to recover it. Oh well, he thinks, perhaps it was meant to be like that. Accidentally stumbling into each other’s lives and now, accidental erasure. The sight of her will go last. The next time they will see each other she will look like a stranger. In what ways will she look different from the last time he saw here? More tired, most likely. More cynical. He hoped not. The world needed more people like her. That light. The light that scorched him. But it is the way she made him feel that is the hardest to erase. How he felt then and how he felt now. But that will all end on election night, won’t it? When he takes what he has been destined for. What everything up until now has been about. Fate surely wouldn’t be so cruel to deny him that.