Chenzhou and Mingzhe didn't have time to visit Eirian for the next day and a half, and she didn't blame them. She heard whispers of what was going on as she ate and tried to sleep. She only managed short naps, still in too much pain to lie still and think of nothing. It only took a few seconds for her attention to turn to the pain, and then she couldn't stop thinking about anything else. At least when she was eating, she had to concentrate on her movements so much that she could forget about the pain.
She'd received word that Yuze had made it to the Camelia, but he still hadn't woken up. But she hadn't heard anything from Finn, and she was starting to worry. Someone would have told her if he was injured or if something had happened to Brendan, so it couldn't be the worst-case scenario.
But she was stuck. She worried about them, or she thought about the pain, or she figured out how to eat again, spilling all over herself like a child in the process.
No matter what she chose, it was terribly frustrating. The ache of her body regrowing parts of itself was constant and deep, and the pain from the burns lingered, bright and sharp every time she moved. The cooks had to feed the entire camp, and even with the help of the tribeswomen and every extra hand they could find, it was a struggle.
They stumbled in just after she'd been served dinner, finally able to chew stewed-soft fruit and meat. A few of the older tribeswomen had worked up the courage to come a bit closer and hadn't left, making a small circle by the entrance. They kept making tea and herbal poltices that Eirian was desperate enough to let them put on the worst of her injuries. If nothing else, the sting was a new experience that distracted from the old for a few minutes.
Chenzhou and Mingzhe looked, somehow, worse than her. Everything about them, from their skin to their hair, and especially their eyes, was dull with exhaustion. They moved slowly, like their muscles were too tight and cramped to extend fully. They'd been going nonstop, and Eirian would have ached for them if she wasn't already.
Both of them stumbled close, but stopped short of actually touching her. There was some fear there, apprehension, sympathy, concern, and all those other things you were supposed to feel when others were suffering. Eirian didn't normally like others feeling that way towards her, because it made her feel weak, but somehow it was comforting to have the two of them. She didn't doubt they knew how strong she was because they had no problem telling her, or anyone else, so it didn't feel pandering or mocking when they did it.
It made the overbearingness of it all palatable.
More food arrived for Chenzhou and Mingzhe, and Eirian was slightly jealous of their adult food.
"I miss chewing." She said, apropos of nothing. Chenzhou and Mingzhe blinked, confused for a moment before it clicked.
"Do you want some of mine?" Mingzhe offered his bowl of hearty stew, but Eirian shook her head.
"No. My teeth still…" She winced, probbing them with her tongue. A few of them were still strangely soft, and her jaw clicked whenever she opened her mouth.
"That must be strange." He murmured. "I don't think I've ever not been able to chew."
Chenzhou swallowed his own mouthful, bowl half empty already. "I dislocated my jaw once during the last war. It was a month before the healers let me chew."
Eirian raised an eyebrow.
"I think I remember that," Mingzhe responded.
"I've never hated soup as much as I did during that month." Chenzhou mused.
Eirian nodded, "As soon as your choice is taken away, everything is horrible."
"It was a year before I let the cooks make soup again." A small, crooked smile came over Chenzhou's face.
"I hated spinach as a child." Eirian offered. "My father loves it and forced me to eat it when I was six. I used to sabotage the deliveries to destroy them before the cooks saw them. Did it for almost two years before he figured it out." He'd screamed at her and confined her to her room for a week before he'd gotten distracted by a fight with her Uncle Jacques.
Mingzhe glanced between the two of them, eyes wide. They turned to him, expectantly, but he didn't have anything to share. "My mother was very careful with our health when we were children." He explained. "The house still eats according to her."
"Still?" Eirian's half-regrown eyebrows raised. "Aren't you all adults?"
Mingzhe shrugged; it had been that way his entire life, and he'd never really had a reason to challenge it. "She allows sweets now that she's not worried about stunting our growth."
Eirian couldn't share any experience with a mother, and neither could Chenzhou, so as far as either of them knew, that was normal.
Chenzhou changed the subject, telling Eirian all about the camp and the situation with the wounded and the estate and how everything was working out as more food was delivered. It was comforting to have them nearby. A relief that she could see them with her own two eyes, and even if they weren't okay, at least she was close enough to help. It was strange to want to care so strongly, not to worry constantly that she was putting in effort that would never be met or rewarded, and not to care.
It was almost freeing. And nothing at all like she'd felt with Philip or most of her so-called friends in the capital, even her relationship with her father was nothing like it.
And even though she was still angry about the way in which she'd come to the Camelia and that would always stain everything a bit, it was a small stain compared to what she'd found here. Enough so that she could focus on the positives more than the lack of choice that she'd had…most of the time.
There was little chance she'd ever have met Chenzhou or Mingzhe if she hadn't come here. A love, however brief, was usually worth the sacrifices it required.
~ tbc