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The moon shines into the room own by a little girl near the age of 11, sitting on the floor, surrounded by books. She scribbles furiously on her journal. Once in a while, she will flip through the page for some references. Her brunette coloured hair that been tied up in a ponytail, swing around as she moves.
Just as she about to pick up another book, the cursing sound follows by clutters of falling pot and utensils that can be heard coming from the kitchen.
She sighs, rolling her brown eyes with flickers of gold in them. Glancing at her journal and back from where a woman's voice still cursing, debating whether to go or not.
Another round of cluttering echoed through the house, making her groan, and she stood up, muttering, 'She never gives up, does she?'
The journey to the kitchen wasn't long upon descending the creaking wooden stairs. The girl watches the scene with an unamused expression.
There stood her mother with an awkward smile, knowing that she messed up, once again. In front of her is a pot with the content of what seems to be an attempt to be a soup was on the floor. Shattering glass, spoon, and ladle scattering around the base.
"I told you, Dyne wasn't born took cook, mom." The girl sighs once again for the day as she goes to search for a broom and dustpan.
"I can at least try!" Her mother argues, picking up the utensils on the floor while carefully avoiding the broken glasses.
The sound of snort follows by the reappearing of the young brunette, who now no longer empty-handed. "I have been living with you for years, mom. You can't even cook an egg without throwing the whole shell with it."
The older Dyne narrows her eyes. "Like you can do any better."
"I don't need to. I accept the reality." She states calmly, swiping the broken pieces into the dustpan.
"But I want to make something for you even for once!" Her mother exclaims loudly.
"It's fine." She state, putting the pieces into few layers of newspapers and wrap them before placing them into a plastic bag and throw them into the trash can. "I accept you for who you are."
"Aw, my sweet Lil baby~" Her mother coo, hugging her.
"There, there." The young girl pats her mother's arm flatly. "No need to be dramatic."
A flick on the forehead makes her winch.
"Ow! What's that for?!"
"You think I can sense that sarcasm, huh?"
"Guess you smarter than you look." She mutters lowly.
