Splintered

Chapter Seventy-Four: Tiger Stripes and Wildflowers

 "Try not to move," Tigris muttered between the metal hairpins in her teeth.

Her radiant features were hardened in concentration as she toiled over Hazel's wild red mane. The intensity and precision with which she moved made it clear she took styling seriously. Not only that, but it was evident she brought work home. Hazel did her best to follow directions while subtly absorbing the surroundings.

Tigris Snow's room was a wild flurry of fabric heaps in every color, style, and texture imaginable. Some of which no normal person would ever dream up. Despite her current no-nonsense attitude, the woman was entrenched in her element and obviously enjoying every second.

"You really didn't have to do this," Hazel addressed Snow's cousin while attempting to keep her head still.

"I'd do anything for Coryo," Tigris answered. Her nimble fingers wove the upper portion of Hazel's mane back into fine rope-like twists and curls. Every few inches, she threaded delicate gold beads within the updo that glittered like stars when the light touched them.

"He...um." Hazel chomped on her tongue for a second. "He asked you?"

"You caught me," Tigris pulled another pin from her mouth, eyes dancing with a playful mischief that Hazel couldn't help but find endearing. "I may have volunteered a smidge, and I owe him, seeing as I haven't been home much lately."

Snow had mentioned that Tigris was busy, as well as his grandmother's waning cognition. Both appeared to be true.

"You work for the President?"

"I have had many clients over the years," Tigris responded with a twist of her lips over the word client. "But the Ravinstills are some of my favorites."

Hazel chewed her cheek as Tigris dug around a drawer.

"What is wrong with him?"

Tigris paused, keeping her eyes fastened on her own hands.

"Who?"

"President Ravinstill," Hazel clarified.

Tigris's shoulders slackened, and she resumed her search.

"The doctors aren't quite sure. But it is not for a lack of trying. They've run all kinds of tests. The best they can come up with is some sort of progressive disorder." A genuine melancholy crossed her features. "To be honest, I fear he won't survive the year."

Hazel had to agree with the assessment. She hadn't seen the man in person for around six months, but the sheer amount of deterioration in such a short time was alarming.

"You know, Mrs. Ravinstill has been wanting him to retire for years. After their son..." Tigris returned to Hazel's side with a palmful of fabric flowers. "Some people just never truly recover completely after losing someone they love."

"Understandable." Hazel's eyes fell to her hands.

"It is, isn't it?"

Hazel met shiny blue eyes in the mirror. The Snows had had their fair share of grief and loss, at a very young age, no less.

"I'm sorry about your parents."

The woman's lip quivered for a breath before she answered, "It was a long time ago. But, I still have Grandma'am and Coryo."

Tigris steadied herself, holding up one flower at a time to Hazel's temple, judging its contrast with the rest of her look. "But truthfully, I always wanted a sister. I mean Coryo handled my fashion shows like a champ, but the dresses just never quite fit right."