Welcome to Gaia! ::

“I think you have enough salt, Rabbit,” Caroline commented without even sparing much of a glance towards Zia’s slow but deliberate use of the salt mill on her meal. The deeply tanned woman was too busy angling her face, trying to figure out how disappointed or happy she was with her fresh haircut and highlights.

Zia looked about as happy as she ever did when trapped in the same room with her mother, and for the first time since she had turned sixteen it had happened all of twice in one year. She was certain that was an overdose of Caroline and far beyond the recommended amount.

She had also, in her overly analytical and over thinking way, taken offense to the fact that both times, Caroline’s attempt at a day together had been somewhat makeover centered. Both women had an interest in fashion and make-up, but given the long history of Caroline making critical commentary about Zia’s appearance, she had decided this was an underhanded way to remind her she was not as well groomed or fashionable or thin or blemish free as she could be.

Well, she did at least agree she needed a haircut. Besides that, Zia had actually gotten the lunch she was promised this time, even if it was at a health conscious restaurant that didn’t serve red meat, and in anticipation of this Zia had scarfed a burger just before and wasn’t all that hungry anyway. It was the principle of the thing, you couldn’t just invite someone out to lunch and drag them to a photography studio or a spa instead. You promised lunch.

“Maybe I should’ve gone lighter. Do you think it’s tacky to go lighter with my complexion? I don’t know,” Caroline fussed, and willfully ignored Zia’s mumbling something about thinking it’s tacky that she’s 40-something.

Zia was hunched over, and although her glossy curls had just gotten a little bit of love and she was well dressed in trendy fall fashion, she looked absolutely gloomy as she rested her cheek in her palm with enough gravity to smoosh her face up while her free hand dissected the salad in front of her with no interest.

It was fairly typical interaction for the two of them. Anything Caroline showed an interest in seemed to pain Zia from the crushing level of stupidity, or was something she was obviously only doing to compete with her. At least from Zia’s perspective, which was admittedly not accurate.

Especially because she didn’t think Caroline had the level of perception or observation to make the statement that shocked Zee awake:

“Zia, baby, are you still living with that boy?”

This time Caroline managed to take her eyes off her compact, prompted by the sound of Zia’s fork clattering to the pavement of the patio they were eating on. She didn’t turn her head, but hazel eyes were watching out of the corner of her eye.

“I—wha--… eh?” Zia stammered after she managed to stop staring with her mouth wide open. “What kind of a question is that?” She sputtered. And it was honest question because she didn’t know how the hell to answer it.

When Caroline was briefly introduced to Pascal, she’d acted weird. Maybe not weird in any notable way an acquaintance or stranger would notice, but Zia had picked up on it. She was a lot more subdued and seemed to listen more than she talked around him, and while it struck her as odd Zia had hoped she would not be interacting with her mother enough to allow it to have an effect on things.

And now, with that basis of knowledge which was no knowledge at all but just ‘abnormal’ she had broken up with this ‘boy’ and had no idea if she wanted to share this information with her mother. She didn’t want advice or comfort or anything else from this woman.

All she wanted was a sandwich and she apparently wasn’t even getting that today.

“Jesus, Caroline, when’d you get so concerned about my love life?” She snarked, hoping that would satisfy what was hopefully a casual and topical question, and went back to turning over salad leaves with her fork. Er, the one that had fallen on the ground. It wasn’t like she was planning on eating this stuff anyway.

Her love life really was the least of her worries. With Realgar thinking about dangerous things like purifying and her powered friends doing who knows what, she was more invested in the magical warfare of Destiny City than ever. Really, boys and stuff could wait. Sure, she was homeless, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t been before. She could just crash at Chester’s or Noah’s or on the lab futon. She was back to being an alley cat again, but that was not bad. It only took some getting used to.

“You know, Rabbit, I’m curious,” Caroline closed her compact and turned to look at Zia seriously, and Zia twitched under her gaze but pretended her salad dissection was much more interesting. “Did you really think moving in with him was a smart idea?”

“Holy crap!” Zia’s voice broke into a hoarse tone as she slammed her hands on the table and looked at Caroline with a sudden wide eyed hostility. “The ******** did that come from?!”

“Well it happened so quickly,” Caroline’s voice was an even toned contrast and even her little shrug and hair flip looked more ladylike and graceful with Zia sitting directly across from her. This fact was both recognized and loathed by Zia herself. “You used to take so long to make major life decisions, but it took you only months to run off with him. I mean, I understand, he was your first ‘boyfriend’, it was just shockingly impulsive. I suppose that’s what happens when one experiences puppy love much later in life than the average child.”

Caroline smoothed out her skirt and delicately picked up her fork, and continued on, even though Zia looked like she was about to bubble over with irrational rage at this person of all people attempting to be her life coach. She didn’t need a life coach, and if she was going to take this bullshit from anyone, well, Caroline with Zia’s gross lack of respect was not on the list.

“I do wonder, are you a separate accounts kind of person? It would restore my faith that I know my daughter at least somewhat. It seems like the sensible thing you’d do. To keep your finances and his from muddling too much… you were always very concerned about accounts and investments…”

“It was my job to be concerned about investments and finances, I worked at a brokerage firm,” Zia sneered. She did not validate this stupid segue by informing Caroline that yes…

She was totally a ‘separate accounts’ kind of person.

This did not seem to slow Caroline’s verbal march. “You know, emotional investment is also a thing, Rabbit.” There was a brief reprieve so she could take a bite. Caroline was not the sort of lady who spoke while she ate. “You invested quite a bit very quickly. It must’ve been an intense relationship. But like I said… puppies, and all that…”

“Where the ******** is all this coming from, Caroline?” Zia repeated in much slower and emphasized articulation.

“I would never call you selfish, Zia.”

Zia stared, then scowled, then looked confused. And then scowled again. Caroline did not elaborate, or continue, or even say that with any kind of telling intonation. She just said it and let it hang there. Seconds ticked by, and the awkwardness increased enough Zia felt her stomach get heavy and her chest flutter. She was going to make her ask, wasn’t she? Oh god.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was immature, wasn’t I? When you were growing up. I don’t think you’re selfish—“

At this point Zia’s eyes rolled with enough force to take her whole head with them in the gesture. That was all she needed. This was an ‘insult but not’ sort of thing. The humble brag of criticisms, with a healthy dose of self pity. Great.

“—I think you have earned everything you have in your hands and you have every right to cling to it.”

Oh, ow. That took an unexpected turn. With the added burn of having basically nothing. Sure, Zia managed to dig some nice clothes out and put up appearances today, but it was all fake. It was just appearances. She deserved everything she had in her hands? What did she have in her hands except tragedy, loss, and a lot of angst?

Well this weird compliment got uncomfortably existential fast.

And Caroline just kept adding to it. “Everyone is always telling me you’re just like him. You look like his daughter, you act like him, you have his head for numbers. Most people wouldn’t begin to guess that you’re mine too, you know,” She went on in her continuously soft and even voice. “I think we both grew up into similar people, though. I think you’re more mine than anyone really wants to say.”

Zia instantly went back to defensive scowling. For any spectator looking at their table on the bistro patio, they would see Caroline, the tall dark brunette eating with careful grace and speaking softly, and her companion Zia who kept shifting for intently glaring, to frowning suspiciously, to trying to ignore her with everything she had.

“Well seems like you’ve got me all figured out,” Zia said with bitter sarcasm and a wave of her hand. “Is that why you wanted to see me so bad? To let me know you’ve found god or D. Phil, or the library or something?”

“I always want to see you,” Caroline murmured, though her eyes were downcast on her meal. “I want to see you every day. I love you, Zee.”

“Right. That’s why you left when I was twelve, came back when I was eighteen, realized I don’t get my trust fund until I’m twenty-five, and vanished again only to occasionally reappear when you need a pet for parties.”

“I didn’t have custody…”

“You didn’t want custody.”

“I’m not having this fight with you, Zia,” Caroline’s soft tibre snapped into something firm and harsh and while it might have been mundane for anyone else, the sheer foreignness of it coming out of her mouth made Zia halt and close her mouth, staring wide eyed as if Caroline had just committed murder in front of her. “I want to see you, but you hurt me. Every time you look at me, the things you say, it all hurts. I used to be afraid of you, baby. I was only nineteen when you were born, I had growing up to do. But I did it, and you are just so bitter and closed off.”

Zia opened her mouth to argue, but Caroline seemed intent on keeping her footing in the conversation, enough to interrupt. “Something happened. You’re going through something. I’m not blind, and I am not about to pass off whatever you’re dealing with as a nervous breakdown like your father insists on. Your sudden withdrawal, dropping out of college. I know something happened to you, so don’t tell me I’m wrong. Something big and terrible happened and no one was there for you and you haven’t been the same since. It’s stupid, Zia. It’s stupid that no one in our family seems to think this is an issue worth intervening for, and it’s stupid you won’t ask for help.”

There was a long awkward pause with a lot of staring, though Caroline’s staring seemed more intense and determined and Zia’s staring seemed more shocked and dumbfounded and admittedly she spent more time mulling over the fact Caroline had called something stupid than any of the emotionally heady stuff.

“Well,” Zia cleared her throat, trying to think of something to say that would keep up her passive and snarky appearances, but nothing was coming naturally. She had no muse for snark, especially since she couldn’t seem to find any shreds of feelings that usually brought it on like ‘angry’ or ‘chipper’ or any other identifiable emotion, really.

Caroline was drudging up old wounds and getting dangerously close to stepping on newer ones, and the fact it was coming from someone she never regarded as anything more than the gold digging bimbo who contributed to half her DNA was unsettling as ******** “Well, I don’t think it’s anything you can help with,” She said finally. “It was just a stupid boy, anyway…”

“It is not, don’t give me that bullshit.”

Because ‘stupid’ was not weird enough to hear come out of Caroline’s mouth, now she had to up the ante and make Zia’s mental perception implode.

“You know and I know the boy is a symptom and not the problem. Someone should’ve taken note of the problem the second you gave up on school. And I don’t care if you want to talk about it now or someday or with a therapist or ever. Here is where we are right now,” Caroline declared. “You, are, unfortunately for you, more like me than either of us care to admit. You need help, but you’re just going to smile and party until you temporarily forget and hope everyone leaves you alone. You’ve just gotten out of a relationship, you’re living on unemployment, and you have no place to stay, and yet I have been right here, willing to offer at least relief. But you won’t ask for it.”

Caroline fished around in her purse until she produced a single, freshly cut key and put it down on the table.

Zia stared at it like it was radioactive. “…What’s that go to?”

“The penthouse. I only use it when I’m staying in Destiny City and with my agency doing most of its business on the West Coast, that’s rare enough.”

Zia stared at it. And stared, and then pulled her knees up on the chair so she could hide behind them as if it was going to come alive and bite her and then stared some more. The full weight of it all sunk in, finally. Caroline was referring to her sudden shift in personality and priorities when she was soulbonded with Zirconia, and then went on a continued decline after Rota, the DMC, and apparently Caroline had filed her recent relationship in with the rest as well.

Caroline had come here with every intention of forcing her help on her, was another realization. She had a spare key already made.

There was another painfully awkward lapse in conversation. Long enough Caroline had actually finished eating and mumbled something to the server while Zia kept her wide eyed staring, mostly at the key, but occasionally up to her mother.

“…I don’t need charity.” She finally decided. Which was a laugh, because everything she had been living off of recently was charity. Zia was a class A mooch with zero remorse.

“Zia,” Caroline snapped and grabbed her arm, stopping for a beat when she noticed scars on the wrist from a youma bite, but finished what she was going. She forced open her palm, which had all the resistance of jelly, and pressed the key to the flesh before closing it and clasping her hand on Zia’s jaw.

“Why do you insist on suffering, baby?”

Because I don’t deserve to be happy after everything I let happen.

Zia couldn’t seem to vocalize anything, though. Instead, her brain generated a flurry of shallow defenses, deflections, and elaborations on all the things she blamed on herself. All of the self loathing and self hate and self blame for everything over the years with the mirror people and her endeavors and the war. Secret things, terrible things. Things in mirrorspace and things in the darkness she didn’t tell anyone. All of these things clogged in her throat and she choked on them until her defiant and pouty façade broke down she spontaneously burst into tears.

“Mommmm,” She whined, and sounded pitifully childish in the process as she gripped the key, and the whine was just the prelude to a fully on fest of splotchy red face and hysterical sobbing and she had no idea where it was coming from, but it was super embarrassing. Especially since they were out in public, and there were people around oh god.

She couldn’t even seem to stop when the waiter awkwardly deposited two small plates and espresso cups and the bill.

“The penthouse is all paid up, here’s the key to the direct elevator. Vera goes grocery shopping on Tuesdays and Thursdays if you leave a list on the door. Here’s the phone number and the wifi password. You can have the master bedroom, I’ve moved my things to one of the spares, and—“

“Mom, it’s too much,” Zia managed to croak out between sobs.

“Really, Zia, calm down,” Caroline sighed as she signed the credit card receipt and sipped at her coffee. “I have a feeling you aren’t going to tell me the root of all this, and that’s fine. I know we aren’t… we aren’t close. But I want to change that, baby. I don’t want to see you flounder alone, especially in light of all that’s happened. I think--… I mean honestly I think you would benefit from some sort of therapy, but you’re a grown woman and I don’t think I could convince you to go. But you can at least let me give you somewhere safe to stay and heal and do whatever you think you need to d—Ah!”

Zia had moved from her chair to practically tackle Caroline into a slumped bear hug, and from there, her crying just turned into straight up bawling.

When was the last time she’d hugged Caroline? Hell, when was the last time she’d managed an emotion in front of Caroline that wasn’t embarrassment or contempt? It was probably back before her age was in the double digits, if it had happened at all in her lifetime.

But her brain seemed to short circuit on reason. Her father passed off her sudden decline and all these years of languishing in it as a nervous breakdown from the pressures of school. He treated it was a disappointment in a defective product, while her brothers looked at it with pity, but acceptance. Even Noah, who knew about the underground war of Destiny City didn’t comprehend this was tied to this, and the devastating loss of self and safety she had suffered thanks to her commitments to the parallel court, and the blood moon, and countless others who fought and died or kept on fighting and hurting. They had all freely attributed it incorrectly and she couldn’t be open with them enough to hope to correct them that it was something much deeper and much more damaging.

No one knows me.

She had said this jokingly, and it slipped out occasionally when she was high once or twice to Pascal, but it was symptomatic of other feelings. She felt fake.

She felt like she was always hiding large swathes of who she was or faking other parts depending on her audience. She felt like there were things she thought about but could never talk about. Things she’d just have to keep to herself to avoid upsetting soldiers in a war that was already exhausting enough, that she existed to support.

But Caroline didn’t need an explanation. She wasn’t demanding secrets. After two decades of being treated with unmitigated hatred, she only wanted to help her, and she didn’t need any explanation or payment in return.

“Zia, you’re making a scene,” Caroline sighed as she awkwardly held her and played with her curls.

“Eat your cake, already. Um... but not with that fork. Please.”