Coping
It was a short scream, one that left her instantly embarrassed, but when she came out of the shower, Zia was certain, for a minute, that was Dioptase staring at her back through the mirror instead of her own, slit neck and bloody and all.
Clutching a towel and trying to calm down, she wiped down the fog from the mirror, shaking her head at herself. It wasn’t the first time it had happened since Operation Rota. On the contrary, it was happening at an embarrassing frequency. The occasional glances where she could’ve sworn she saw the dead, comrades and enemies alike. Their names, at least the ones she knew, always on the tip of her tongue. And in her dreams, they were inescapable. “What did we do?” She asked her own reflection, half expecting Zirconia to answer her as a free acting reflection.
“We did what needed to be done,” She ended up answering herself. “Everything’s falling apart, now, though…” Why couldn’t everyone else agree? Operation Rota had been a tragic victory, once. Now it only marked disaster and a forming rift within her charges.
She needed a taste of family, and since her BMC family was currently in turmoil, she decided to pay some attention to her other one. That one made up of genetics. It was hard, thinking of what to call them. She could say her ‘old family’ but with as far back as Zirconia’s memories went of Ares and Gaia, they seemed more like the ‘old family’ from her point of view. But either way, it was Thursday, and she had an ever standing appointment with the only brother she kept in touch with. Assuming he showed up. Noah was a flake if Zia ever met one. She desperately hoped this wasn’t the case, though, because she really, really needed to get her mind off of everything else.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey, Shortstack!”
Zia grimaced at the greeting and hugged the lavender haired guy as he stood up for her. She was 5’8 now, not that awkward middle schooler who somehow managed to be both gawky and stout at the same time, and he’d never forget the name he attributed to such a look. She huffed at this reminder, only to have her perfect hair ruffled like she was seven.
Now she was downright frowning as she flopped in her seat and quickly got to repairing the damage. Noah, on the other hand, was laughing at the fact he’d gotten to her.
“I ordered for you,” He said as a plate of greasy food was placed in front of each of them. Great.
An awkward silence passed until he finally broke it, apparently having not even noticed. “So, how are you?” He asked with his mouth full while Zia was still picking through her entrée with a slightly disgusted look on her face. “How’s Herr Fuhrer? “
“Dad’s not that bad,” She answered, knowing she was venturing into precarious territory.
“Oh yeah?” He asked before having to pause and force that mouthful down his gullet. “You should be on my side. His whole pressure thing about what he wants for us finally got to you too,” He said pointedly. “Or did you want to be Miss Bellum to the retarded mayor?”
“He’s just old fashioned,” Zia said with a shrug.
“Yeah, old fashioned enough he hasn’t spoken to me since I dropped out of college,” Noah muttered bitterly. Zia just looked worried.
“I got fired,” She mumbled, almost like she had this childish fear that her daddy would disown her too for her own screw up.
“Oh, s**t.”
“He doesn’t know yet…”
“He’s going to know, that guy is his friend. Zee, you’ve better tell him fast.” Noah sounded genuinely worried, because, well, he was. Robert Connolly was legendary for his tantrums, he was just a big enough guy that they could get downright scary, and Zia had never been on the receiving end of one. He wasn’t sure she could handle it, considering how much she idolized Daddy Dearest. It was usually the root of all the fights they had, but Noah considered himself to be a veteran of being belittled by their father and Zia was sheltered, to say the least. “God, how’d you even get fired anyway? 80% of your personality is a**-kissing and work ethic.”
“Shut up,” Zia snarled, not really in the mood for drama in this family as well. “I needed some time off and my boss wouldn’t go for it.”
“Why would you… Nevermind. Well ********. Guess you’re screwed then,” Noah said lightly and shrugged as if he had been joking the whole time, backing off before little snarls turned into a full blown yelling match. At least, that was their family’s way of backing off. Once you realize you weren’t ready to handle where you’re taking this conversation, you acted like you weren’t serious, or wrapped it all in a neat little veil of ‘I was just joking’.
Zia hated that. Part of her wanted to slam down her glass and scream ‘No, let’s hash this out. Let’s actually talk about an issue until one of us knows what to do about it. Let’s actually have an uncomfortable conversation.’ But that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe later, but that rebellion would have to happen another day.
More awkward silence. Both of them spent it pretending to be really interested in their meal until Zia finally found a subject to change things to. “So… how’s your girlfriend? You look like you haven’t shaved in a week so I’m assuming she dumped you,” She ribbed, hoping he’d take the bait.
“Fooor yooour informatioooon,” He said, waving his fork on the same beat as his exaggerated syllables, “She likes the rough and rugged look.”
“The homeless look,” She snorted back.
That’s how their lunch went: The random teasing, the catching up, very carefully staying away from touchy subjects like moms and dad and jobs. It was the usual routine, but Zia came away with it with a weird feeling, a realization that she had been submitting to Zirconia. They were dueling entities, but she had felt duty bound to let the cat have her way, for the sake of the otherworldly war, for the sake of their future. But in that submission, she had been nearly swallowed up. She almost lost herself, and her connections here. Talking to her brother reminded her that she wanted to keep these connections as much as she craved the new ones with the parallels and the BMC. Zia Connolly was still separate, and she had her own opinions. Operation Rota was wrong. Zirconia was infuriated, but Zee decided Zirconia can be angry all she wanted. If Zirconia thought that the ugliness and death that was Operation Rota was necessary, she could. But to this, Zia would not submit. She wasn’t Zirconia, not yet. She was herself and she had decided, for herself, that is was wrong. Ares was wrong. And even though the Negaverse agents had been corrupt, it was wrong to be their executioners. Some of them were just kids, they weren’t all guilty of murder…
Suddenly, just as the two of them thought that they had become almost the same person, a wedge had been carved between them. Zirconia had been demoted from an increasingly dominating influence back down to a foreign passenger in Zia’s brain. It almost hurt. It definitely hurt emotionally. Zia didn’t know why. Why was it so hard to assert herself in her own body? Why was it so goddamn hard to try and just be the old her and get along like she used to? Why did disagreement and refusal to just submit have to be laced with the looming threat of oblivion? Everything was getting to be so ******** difficult.
It was a short scream, one that left her instantly embarrassed, but when she came out of the shower, Zia was certain, for a minute, that was Dioptase staring at her back through the mirror instead of her own, slit neck and bloody and all.
Clutching a towel and trying to calm down, she wiped down the fog from the mirror, shaking her head at herself. It wasn’t the first time it had happened since Operation Rota. On the contrary, it was happening at an embarrassing frequency. The occasional glances where she could’ve sworn she saw the dead, comrades and enemies alike. Their names, at least the ones she knew, always on the tip of her tongue. And in her dreams, they were inescapable. “What did we do?” She asked her own reflection, half expecting Zirconia to answer her as a free acting reflection.
“We did what needed to be done,” She ended up answering herself. “Everything’s falling apart, now, though…” Why couldn’t everyone else agree? Operation Rota had been a tragic victory, once. Now it only marked disaster and a forming rift within her charges.
She needed a taste of family, and since her BMC family was currently in turmoil, she decided to pay some attention to her other one. That one made up of genetics. It was hard, thinking of what to call them. She could say her ‘old family’ but with as far back as Zirconia’s memories went of Ares and Gaia, they seemed more like the ‘old family’ from her point of view. But either way, it was Thursday, and she had an ever standing appointment with the only brother she kept in touch with. Assuming he showed up. Noah was a flake if Zia ever met one. She desperately hoped this wasn’t the case, though, because she really, really needed to get her mind off of everything else.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey, Shortstack!”
Zia grimaced at the greeting and hugged the lavender haired guy as he stood up for her. She was 5’8 now, not that awkward middle schooler who somehow managed to be both gawky and stout at the same time, and he’d never forget the name he attributed to such a look. She huffed at this reminder, only to have her perfect hair ruffled like she was seven.
Now she was downright frowning as she flopped in her seat and quickly got to repairing the damage. Noah, on the other hand, was laughing at the fact he’d gotten to her.
“I ordered for you,” He said as a plate of greasy food was placed in front of each of them. Great.
An awkward silence passed until he finally broke it, apparently having not even noticed. “So, how are you?” He asked with his mouth full while Zia was still picking through her entrée with a slightly disgusted look on her face. “How’s Herr Fuhrer? “
“Dad’s not that bad,” She answered, knowing she was venturing into precarious territory.
“Oh yeah?” He asked before having to pause and force that mouthful down his gullet. “You should be on my side. His whole pressure thing about what he wants for us finally got to you too,” He said pointedly. “Or did you want to be Miss Bellum to the retarded mayor?”
“He’s just old fashioned,” Zia said with a shrug.
“Yeah, old fashioned enough he hasn’t spoken to me since I dropped out of college,” Noah muttered bitterly. Zia just looked worried.
“I got fired,” She mumbled, almost like she had this childish fear that her daddy would disown her too for her own screw up.
“Oh, s**t.”
“He doesn’t know yet…”
“He’s going to know, that guy is his friend. Zee, you’ve better tell him fast.” Noah sounded genuinely worried, because, well, he was. Robert Connolly was legendary for his tantrums, he was just a big enough guy that they could get downright scary, and Zia had never been on the receiving end of one. He wasn’t sure she could handle it, considering how much she idolized Daddy Dearest. It was usually the root of all the fights they had, but Noah considered himself to be a veteran of being belittled by their father and Zia was sheltered, to say the least. “God, how’d you even get fired anyway? 80% of your personality is a**-kissing and work ethic.”
“Shut up,” Zia snarled, not really in the mood for drama in this family as well. “I needed some time off and my boss wouldn’t go for it.”
“Why would you… Nevermind. Well ********. Guess you’re screwed then,” Noah said lightly and shrugged as if he had been joking the whole time, backing off before little snarls turned into a full blown yelling match. At least, that was their family’s way of backing off. Once you realize you weren’t ready to handle where you’re taking this conversation, you acted like you weren’t serious, or wrapped it all in a neat little veil of ‘I was just joking’.
Zia hated that. Part of her wanted to slam down her glass and scream ‘No, let’s hash this out. Let’s actually talk about an issue until one of us knows what to do about it. Let’s actually have an uncomfortable conversation.’ But that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe later, but that rebellion would have to happen another day.
More awkward silence. Both of them spent it pretending to be really interested in their meal until Zia finally found a subject to change things to. “So… how’s your girlfriend? You look like you haven’t shaved in a week so I’m assuming she dumped you,” She ribbed, hoping he’d take the bait.
“Fooor yooour informatioooon,” He said, waving his fork on the same beat as his exaggerated syllables, “She likes the rough and rugged look.”
“The homeless look,” She snorted back.
That’s how their lunch went: The random teasing, the catching up, very carefully staying away from touchy subjects like moms and dad and jobs. It was the usual routine, but Zia came away with it with a weird feeling, a realization that she had been submitting to Zirconia. They were dueling entities, but she had felt duty bound to let the cat have her way, for the sake of the otherworldly war, for the sake of their future. But in that submission, she had been nearly swallowed up. She almost lost herself, and her connections here. Talking to her brother reminded her that she wanted to keep these connections as much as she craved the new ones with the parallels and the BMC. Zia Connolly was still separate, and she had her own opinions. Operation Rota was wrong. Zirconia was infuriated, but Zee decided Zirconia can be angry all she wanted. If Zirconia thought that the ugliness and death that was Operation Rota was necessary, she could. But to this, Zia would not submit. She wasn’t Zirconia, not yet. She was herself and she had decided, for herself, that is was wrong. Ares was wrong. And even though the Negaverse agents had been corrupt, it was wrong to be their executioners. Some of them were just kids, they weren’t all guilty of murder…
Suddenly, just as the two of them thought that they had become almost the same person, a wedge had been carved between them. Zirconia had been demoted from an increasingly dominating influence back down to a foreign passenger in Zia’s brain. It almost hurt. It definitely hurt emotionally. Zia didn’t know why. Why was it so hard to assert herself in her own body? Why was it so goddamn hard to try and just be the old her and get along like she used to? Why did disagreement and refusal to just submit have to be laced with the looming threat of oblivion? Everything was getting to be so ******** difficult.
