Chapter Text
Elfnein passed by Carol’s study again, no destination in mind; the journey itself was the goal. She had been making a round through the hall at regular intervals, taking care to walk slowly past Carol’s door each time. At first it started with the quietest sound of her quill pen scratching on paper and pages flipping when she was here by chance. The sound of a fist banging on wood was what caught her attention, followed by a frustrated yell.
It was still early, and Elfnein knew Carol didn’t want to be bothered. But that didn’t stop her from succumbing to the convenient urge to pace the hallways. It was still quiet her first several times, and then the soft angered groaning became more frequent, as did Elfnein’s trips.
Around the sixth visit, there was a new, unmistakable sound. Carol was crying. Elfnein stopped to listen, hovering her hand above the door’s handle. At a time like this, someone would want comfort, but was that what Carol would want? She was always so distant, and the last time Elfnein tried to console her she was chased off and threatened, but it had been some time since then.
In the end, she gripped the handle and took a deep breath, but let go and turned back to her room. Soon after she was back at the door, and Carol was still crying; again, she turned away and returned to her own quarters. The next visit, she heard nothing but muffled sniffling, and the next, nothing.
This time when she took the handle, she pushed it open centimeter by centimeter, peeking in through the crack. “Carol?” she whispered.
No response, she opened it another inch and repeated herself a little more loudly. Carol was at her desk, hunched over onto its surface with her face buried in her arms. Elfnein stepped into the room, assuming she was asleep.
Receiving no reaction for entering, Elfnein walked closer. Moving Carol to bed several rooms away would be impossible without waking her up, and if she had cried herself to sleep she wouldn’t want to be woken up. Making as little sound as possible, she crept up to her and took her robe off the back of the chair and draped it over Carol’s shoulders.
Elfnein tensed when Carol curled into herself tighter, and didn’t realize how tightly wound she’d become until she relaxed after Carol remained still. Carefully, she placed a hand on top of her head in a comforting way, hoping to reach through to her for a happy dream. She yanked her hand back when Carol stirred again, mumbling, “Papa….”
Any time Carol was upset like this, Elfnein assumed it was over their papa. Well, Carol’s papa, but with their shared memories it was hard not to think of him as her own. She wasn’t exactly sure how long ago it happened, only that it did.
Elfnein had, had the nightmares too, when she was first given the memories. To be born with a full consciousness and her first memories being both love and loss, it was too much for her infant body. She pulled through for Carol’s sake, being told that she needed to keep the memories of their – her – papa safe.
She risked disturbing her to pull the robe up higher to her neck, gently tucking it under her arms like one might tuck someone into bed. Careful to not wake her, she slowly pulled the book she was resting on out from under her and set it aside so the pages wouldn’t crease, and then capped the inkwell. Carol mumbled again, and Elfnein stepped back behind the chair out of sight.
“Elf…nein?” Carol’s head turned the slightest, and Elfnein wasn’t sure if she could see her, or if she was even awake. “You shouldn’t be in here.” It was hard to understand, her voice was so laden with drowsiness.
Neither of them spoke for several moments, Elfnein practically holding her breath to stay quiet. When Carol didn’t follow it up with anything, she backed away towards the door again, to leave her in peace. All she allowed herself was a whispered, “Good night, Carol,” as she pulled it closed.