Estelle lay back on the infirmary cot, the events of the day still fresh in her mind. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of Lydia’s movements as she tidied up, her back turned to Estelle. The stillness was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy she had just escaped, and Estelle found herself almost grateful for the forced rest.
However, the quiet didn’t last long. The sound of shuffling feet and hushed whispers reached Estelle’s ears, drawing her attention to the infirmary door. She smiled to herself, already guessing who it might be. Moments later, Dante, Iris, Mira, and Finn were clustered just outside, their faces pressed close to the small window in the door as they peered in, clearly anxious about her condition.
Lydia, ever vigilant, caught sight of them out of the corner of her eye and let out an exasperated sigh. “What is this, a gathering?” she muttered as she strode towards the door, her tone somewhere between annoyance and fondness.
She opened the door just enough to poke her head out, her stern gaze sweeping over the group. “You lot need to stop lurking around and let her rest. She’s not going anywhere, and neither are any of you if you keep crowding my infirmary.”
Dante, usually so composed, looked slightly sheepish as he met Lydia’s gaze. “We just wanted to check on her,” he said, his voice low and a bit defensive.
“And you have,” Lydia shot back, her hands on her hips. “Now shoo. Go find something else to do that doesn’t involve disrupting my work or making her feel like she’s on display.”
Mira, who had been clinging to Iris’s side, looked up at Lydia with wide, pleading eyes. “But is she okay?” she asked, her voice small and filled with concern.
Lydia’s expression softened slightly, though she didn’t relent. “She’ll be fine, but only if you let her rest. So off with you.”
Finn, less subtle than his siblings, tried to peek past Lydia to catch a glimpse of Estelle. “Can we at least say hi?”
“Fine,” Lydia huffed, rolling her eyes, “but make it quick. And no funny business.”
As the group hesitantly stepped into the room, Estelle couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them all. They crowded around her bed, each of them wearing expressions of worry and relief. Estelle raised a hand in a small wave, doing her best to reassure them. “I’m fine, really,” she said, her voice warm despite her exhaustion. “It’s just a scratch. You don’t have to worry.”
Mira, still holding onto Iris, finally let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. “You scared us,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.
Estelle’s smile widened, and she reached out to gently ruffle Mira’s hair. “I didn’t mean to. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.”
Dante, arms crossed and still frowning, nodded. “You’d better be. We don’t need any more close calls.”
Iris was the last to speak, her usual calm exterior hiding the depth of her concern. “Just rest, okay? We’ve got things covered out there.”
Estelle nodded, her gaze sweeping over each of them. “I will. Just take care of yourselves too.”
Lydia, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of exasperation and something akin to amusement, finally stepped back in. “Alright, that’s enough. Out, all of you. Let her rest before you end up putting her back in here.”
As the siblings reluctantly began to file out, Lydia turned back to Estelle, shaking her head. “It’s rare to see them all together like that, especially fussing over someone new. You must’ve made quite an impression.”
Estelle shifted slightly on the bed, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in her shoulder. She knew Lydia was fishing for information, but she wasn’t ready to delve into the complicated web of emotions that tied her to the siblings. Instead, she offered a nonchalant shrug, wincing only slightly as the movement pulled at her wound.
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“Maybe we’ve just bonded over the last few days,” Estelle said lightly, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything too revealing. “They’re good people—easy to care about.”
Lydia eyed her suspiciously for a moment, clearly not entirely convinced, but she let the subject drop with a small hum of acknowledgment. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve certainly gotten under their skin,” she said, returning to her work. “Just try not to get yourself hurt again. I’ve got enough to deal with without having to patch you up every other day.”
Estelle chuckled, though the sound was tinged with weariness. “I’ll do my best, Lydia. No promises, though.”
Lydia shook her head, but there was a faint smile on her lips as she busied herself with her tasks. “You’d better rest while you can, Lily. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll find yourself in next.”
Estelle closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax against the pillow. Despite the pain in her arm and the worry gnawing at the back of her mind, there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of Lydia’s fussing and the protective instincts of her siblings. For now, that was enough to ease her thoughts, if only for a little while.
As Estelle’s eyes drifted shut, the comforting sounds of the shelter faded away, replaced by a dreamscape that felt strangely familiar, yet utterly foreign. It wasn’t long before she was plunged into a memory that wasn’t her own—visions of another life, another Estelle.
In this vision, she found herself moving through the infirmary with a sense of urgency. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the low murmurs of the wounded. Her hands glowed faintly with a soft, warm light as she used her healing power to tend to the injured. The energy coursed through her, gentle but taxing. Though it tired her, it was nothing like the overwhelming strain she had felt when treating Finn’s wounds in the past. This was more routine, almost second nature, but still, she felt the fatigue setting in.
As she finished tending to a patient, the door to the infirmary swung open, and Lydia stepped inside, her arms full of supplies. Her sharp eyes immediately found Estelle, and she frowned, though there was a teasing warmth in her expression.
"Estelle," Lydia chided, her tone somewhere between exasperation and affection. "Stop taking my job, will you? You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate."
Timidly, Estelle turned toward Lydia, the glow in her hands dimming as she hesitated. "But... you keep saying you’re overworked," she said softly, her voice laced with concern.
Lydia let out an exaggerated sigh and walked over to Estelle, setting the supplies down before reaching up to pinch Estelle’s cheeks gently. "If you’re really worried about that, then stop picking up every injured person you find and creating more work for me," she said with a playful scold. "We’re a team, remember? You don’t have to do everything yourself."
Estelle, feeling both embarrassed and reassured, managed a small smile. "I’m sorry, Lydia. I just want to help."
Lydia’s expression softened, and she released Estelle’s cheeks, patting her gently on the shoulder. "I know you do. And you’re doing more than enough. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too, alright?"
The memory began to fade as Estelle felt herself being pulled back to consciousness. She woke with a start, a slight headache throbbing at her temples. The pain wasn’t as intense as the headaches she’d experienced before, but it was enough to leave her disoriented. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she found herself back in the present, the infirmary dimly lit by a single lamp in the corner.
Her gaze fell on Lydia, who was still awake, her back turned as she worked quietly, organizing supplies and tidying up the room. The sight of her triggered a pang of recognition, echoing the memory that had just played out in her mind.
Pushing herself up slightly, Estelle winced at the lingering pain in her arm but pushed through it. "Lydia," she called softly, trying not to startle her.
Lydia turned, her expression softening when she saw Estelle awake. "You should be resting," she said, her tone gentle but firm.
"I know, but... I wanted to see if you needed any help," Estelle replied, her voice still a bit groggy. "I feel like I’ve just been lying here while you’re working so hard."
Lydia shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Resting is helping, Lily. And besides," she added, gesturing to the neatly stacked supplies, "I’m almost done here. You need to focus on healing. The last thing we need is you pushing yourself and making that injury worse."
Estelle nodded, though she still felt a little restless. The memories from her dream lingered in her mind, making it hard to simply lie back down and sleep. But Lydia’s tone left little room for argument, so she eased back onto the cot, trying to relax.
"Thank you, Lydia," Estelle murmured as she settled in, her eyes already beginning to close again.
"Don’t mention it," Lydia replied, her voice softening as she returned to her work. "Just take care of yourself. We need you at your best, not worn out from overdoing it."
As Estelle drifted back to sleep, she couldn’t help but feel a deeper connection to Lydia, even though the memory wasn’t truly her own. It was a comforting thought, knowing that even in this world, there were people who cared for her—people who would watch over her, just as she had watched over them in another life.
And with that, she let herself relax, the sound of Lydia’s quiet movements lulling her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.