Rough Start

"Zenobia, Zora, it's time to get up!" She heard her mother shout from the lower floor, but she didn't move. She was perfectly content to lie against the doorframe to her parents' bedroom. Taking in the lack of her father's belongings that she found with each new day. Arms crossed against her chest, she sighed.

Her head thumped gently against the discolored wood. Black sweatpants and a red short sleeve t-shirt hung loose on her boney frame. Muffled shuffles caught her attention. The teen tilted her head towards her room next door with a small smile. No doubt Zora was still having trouble with her old, run-down dresser.

"Come on…"

The old wooden furniture groaning against her assault. It screeched in protest. The poor kid hadn't received anything new in ages, instead being forced to accept all of Zenobia's abused hand-me-downs.

"Yes!"

Regardless of the struggle, it seemed the younger girl was able to stay upbeat, their talk from last night practically forgotten. A little tune even buzzed through her lips as she walked out a few moments later. A bundle of clothes piled on top of one another in her arms.

"Zeno, guess what!"

Gold slits peered up; her rainbow glitter bathrobe shimmered as she came into the hall's overly bright light. Zenobia's grin grew wider, already able to read the younger girl's mind. Still she shrugged, pushing herself away from her parents' bedroom.

"What?"

"Today's spirit day at school! I get to wear white and blue!"

She pushed the pile forward, revealing her outfit for the day. A blue and black poofy skirt, white stockings and white long-sleeved shirt with a sparkling outline of a unicorn on it.

"Cool. Do you want me to do your hair after?"

"Yeah! Can you do braids? Pleaaaaseee?"

"Sure. But first go get dressed and do your teeth."

Zenobia exhaled, feeling the wind knock out of her as her sister grabbed ahold of her. Those smaller and thinner arms wrapped tightly around the older girl's stomach.

"Thanks sis!"

Before she could even get a word in, Zora ran straight into the bathroom. Her clothes were still in her grasp somehow and not all over the floor when she slammed the door shut. Leaving the eldest daughter to snort to herself before making her way downstairs.

"You're not wearing your mask."

She was just one step away from reaching the kitchen. Her mother was already there waiting for her. Though she couldn't see her expression, Zenobia could feel her disapproval while she stared into frigid brown eyes.

"I'm getting breakfast."

"It doesn't even cover your whole face."

"I'll wear it when I go to school."

"Zenobia."

"Mother."

She could hear her anger loud and clear. Even when completely hidden behind her white lioness mask, the scorn was clearly seen in her eyes. Those serious, skeptical brown eyes. Despite that her eldest daughter stood, facing the intimidating glare that sent her way head on. In all honesty she should've expected her mother to ambush her like this.

"Even if I did wear it, you'd still complain. Only, it would be, I need a new one instead of needing one at all."

She could predict her mother's comebacks so easily. It wasn't the first time they've butted heads on things, let alone this particular subject and it most certainly won't be the last. Zenobia crossed her arms, biting the inside of her cheek while preparing for the rebuttal that was definitely going to be sent her way.

"Don't give me lip. Especially when I'm right on both counts. You need to set a better example for Zora. She needs to follow society's rules and traditions."

The teen could hear the missing 'unlike you' part of her sentence. Which really pissed her off. Being sleep deprived left her cranky. And being cranky made her more stubborn and honest than usual. A dangerous combination first thing in the morning.

"So, you want her to be judgmental and critical of people then? Because that's what you're trying to train her to be. 'Don't trust people with this eye color. If they're wearing this mask, stay away from them."

Her voice was raised a tad higher while mimicking her mother. She shook her after that, disgusted. It was ridiculous and terrible. Did she not care what Zenobia went through because of those following all these too important, traditional values?

"We live in a day and age where people are free to be who they want and express themselves. Yet all you care about is status. Categorizing people just because of first impressions that are subjective at best and discriminating at worst."

How many people shunned her as a kid because of her red orbs? It was a rarer eye color that had different meanings based on the culture. In their region, red is considered the color of passion, symbolizing strong emotional traits such as love and hatred.

Honestly, she wasn't sure just how accurate the eye chart was when it came to identifying traits of personality. For her and her sister, they did seem to follow it. For others…like her father, it wasn't so simple.

"It's tradition and society's regulations that keep everyone in line. That protects them. Just because you're a naive child that doesn't understand how the real-world works doesn't mean I want Zora to turn out the same way."

Well, that's a new one. Is that what she thought? Zenobia wanted to laugh at that. Apparently being a stay-at-home mom for the last three years has supposedly done more harm than good.

"I understand it's because of your shrewd opinions that dad left."

Zenobia didn't even flinch when her mother slammed her hand on the wall, though deep inside she felt fear coursing through her veins. She knew she had struck a nerve. One that left her mother practically seething.

Now also blocking her completely from accessing the kitchen. But she wasn't going to take back her words. Not when she has all but ignored anything and everything related to him. He may no longer exist in the old crone's thoughts, but he still mattered to her and Zora. She couldn't pretend he never existed.

"That man has nothing to do with this conversation!"

They stared deep into each other's gaze silently for a few moments. An unbearable, suffocating atmosphere filled Zenobia's lungs. Still she wouldn't let this go. Her mother for so long had tried to confine her into those conservative shackles.

Blaming her father for her free-spirited ways alongside essentially everything wrong in their lives. And now that Zora was coming of age, she was going to enforce that irritating, judgmental mindset all the more. Throwing all of her expectations and hopes onto such a sweet, bright-eyed kid.

"He has everything to do with this. For all his life he was given the cold shoulder for his eyes. He was considered an untrusting outcast. Even when he married you and made a name for himself as a mask carver, he was forced under society's thumb. When he finally had enough of you and everyone treating him like shit-he left!"

The slap came in slow motion for her. Seconds felt like several minutes when her mother raised her hand. Her fingers extended while her palm collided against her cheek. Flesh upon flesh, a red imprint resulting from it.

Both of them were breathing heavily now. Zenobia's head was jerked to the side, tears borderline at the corner of her eyes. But she held it in. For the sake of the little girl, she saw hiding atop the staircase, she continued.

"Zora has the right to be who she wants to be. She wants to make friends, lots of them. Help people regardless of who they are. Because that is who she is, not because of her eye color. You couldn't control me…so now you're throwing all your expectations, every single one of your twisted views on her. You can't accept that neither of us want to be like that, because that's how dad was. Unlike you, he always kept his thoughts open, his heart on his sleeve. He cared. At the very least more than you."

Adrenaline pumped through every fiber of her being as she waited. Her heart was hammering against her chest while her fingers twitched Expecting another slap, insults, verbal comebacks-something from her mother. But she remained in the same state with that guilty hand high in the air.

The elder woman gasped for air, heavy, deep breaths. Were it not for the movements, she would have thought her mother was paralyzed. A few more moments went by, the clock behind them chirped, a baby sparrow fluttering back and forth only to hibernate for another hour. Suddenly Zenobia sighed, her shoulders drooping.

"I'm taking Zora to school." was all the teen could say in the miserable silence. She was almost…disappointed that there was no continuation. Not that she wanted to actually fist fight the older woman, but she wanted her to finally say more besides her typical society's rules spiel. However in the end…Zenobia received nothing.

So, she backed off. Instead of trying to push past the stubborn woman's iron defense, she turned. around. Going up two steps at a time up the stairs she found the five-year-old huddled into a ball at the top.

"Zeno- Her sister cut her off by placing a finger to her lips before pointing to their bedroom. Without a word Zora led them away, her hands desperately gripping the older girl's wrist.

"Grab your brush and an elastic. I'll do your hair before we go." Gently Zenobia shut the door closed the moment they were inside. "I don't want a braid anymore. Can we go to school now?" Zenobia furrowed her brows, her sister fidgeted in place, unable to meet her gaze.

The older girl offered her a smile before going through her sibling's sticker covered drawers. "Zeno, I already brushed my hair, and I don't want it braided. Let's go!" Even when Zora pouted with arms crossed, her left foot ready to stomp on the carpeted floor, her sister still rummaged through the mess.

"You missed some knots on the back of your head. But...if you don't want any braids, I can give you bunny buns?" It took everything in Zenobia to not grin. The lingering worry in the five-year old's gaze faded while she tilted her head in curiosity.

"Bunny…buns?"

"Uh huh."

"What's that?"

"Come over here and you'll find out."

She sat down on the floor, leaning up against the bed while patting her lap. Only waiting ten seconds before being pounced on.

"H-hold still!"

"Can I hold my elastics? Pleaseee?"

"Sure. Don't drop them." The air was much easier to breathe by the time Zora sat facing away from her. Trying to stay in place even when the brush snagged against her tangles. For a few minutes there was silence, minus the few painful grunts that broke through. Each one was met with a small apology from the elder before the cycle happened all over again.

Eventually the brush was placed onto the floor, before thin fingers slid into slightly curled locks. Gently, Zenobia parted her sister's hair in half, taking one side to twist it on the top of her head. Her free hand moved forward with her palm out. Without a word, Zora released a blue hairpiece. Allowing the wrapped bun to stay in place. The process is repeated, though this time Zora squirmed in her lap.

"Sis?"

"What's up?" Zora opened her mouth, not saying anything for a few seconds. Waiting until after her sister took her other elastic, the one purple, to ask.

"Why were you and mommy fighting?"

The fingers in her hair stilled for a moment, a brief hesitance, but continued stiffly. Zenobia found it a lot harder to continue the circular motions in her sister's hair. However with each stroke it became easier to settle into her previous pattern. Still, it was a few moments before she managed to give Zora a response.

"Mom and I don't see eye to eye on things, that's all."

"What's 'eye to eye' mean?"

"Well…she and I like different things, and she doesn't like that."

"But the things you like are cool!"

"Thanks, but others don't think it's cool, mom included. Don't worry about it, ok?"

Before Zora could say anymore, hands are placed on her waist, lifting her up a foot up into the air before she's spun around. Meeting her smiling, red cheeked sister.

"All done! I'll grab your backpack while you go look in the mirror."