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In every stressful situation, Mira relies on three things: hot baths, tea, and long naps wrapped up in her favorite robe. Her scalp is beginning to ache from being wrapped up. Her tea has gone cold, and her skin remains flushed. Her cup might as well be filled up with sand given that every sip just makes her throat tighten up. Someone should speak before she snaps and shakes her brother, demanding that he have some reaction other than just sitting with his hands folded in his lap.
"I won't scream," she whispers. "I don't have the energy to scream right now. I don't even have the energy to be angry or upset. Right now, I just care that you and Lucy are okay."
Elfman shrugs and rubs his mouth with a grimace.
"What's going to happen once this drink takes effect? Did Porlyusica give any explanations?"
"No, she didn't really elaborate on what to expect." Mira stands up and grabs her cup. "Would you like anything? I can make some more tea, or we have the ingredients for a shake. How does a sandwich sound?"
"I appreciate the offer, sis, but right now? I just want some sleep."
Mira nods and pulls her knees towards her chest. A long nap isn't an option between her raw nerves and Lucy currently residing in her bed. Even the gentlest teas won't be enough to calm her nerves and soothe her dry throat and jumpy stomach. Another hot bath will just aggravate her skin further.
"I'll keep busy," she announces. "Then I don't have to think."
Mira tightens her robe, throws her towel into the overflowing laundry hamper, and runs a comb through her still wet hair. Her sore scalp protests and provides a necessary albeit temporary distraction.
Once her hair has been tamed into something semi-decent, she moves onto tackling the rest of the house.
Her mind remains numb as she goes through task after task. Every dish receives a meticulous scrubbing and drying. Her laundry is scrubbed until her knuckles threaten to crack open and bleed. Even crouched down on the floor, she fails to see any obvious dirt or dust but drags the broom and bucket from the closet. Mira stuffs the bucket into the sink and twists the faucet. Hot water is just beginning to trickle from the fountain when the screaming begins.
In her brief time alive, she knows pained, upset, and sick screams. Lucy is not screaming in pain, upset, or illness, though. Her scream is sheer panic and terror.
Mira sprints towards her bedroom, promising over and over that she's coming. Elfman stumbles from his bedroom with the same worried expression.
Her face is flushed bright red. Her cheeks are streaked with tears and snot. Her breath escapes in loud and wobbling gasps. Mira extends her arms, and she practically leaps from the bed.
"Everything is okay," she whispers and runs a hand up and down her back. "Were you having a nightmare? A nightmare is never real no matter how strong or realistic it might seem."
Lucy pushes away and shakes her head. Her upset dissolves into frustration as she wiggles free and begins canvasing the room. Everything receives a quick inspection before she moves onto the next object. Lucy goes from room to room with mounting frustration, digging through drawers, opening cabinets, and mumbling under her breath.
"What're you looking for, kid?" Elfman crouches beside her only for her to move away. "Is it something we can help you find?"
Lucy hugs her waist and rocks back and forth. Her expression is far more hopeful than pouting even when the siblings remain silent. Huffing, she repeats the action albeit with a little more force this time.
Mira takes a deep breath, kneels, and gives her shoulders a firm squeeze.
"I realize what you're asking for," she says gently. "I understand how much you must miss her because we miss someone too. It hurts me to tell you this, but she is gone. A terrible thing happened, and she could not be saved. I am so sorry, Lucy, but she is gone and cannot return."
Lucy takes a deep breath, emits another horrific wail, and twists away. Helpless, she looks towards her brother. It's not her first time confronting a temper tantrum. Her experience isn't up to par with some of the parents in the guild, but she knows how to manage them with her younger sibling experiences.
Taking her into a different room, ignoring her and leaving the room feels wrong. Any attempts at holding her will likely cause them both injury and further upsets.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."
Her apology goes unheard over the shrieking and sobbing. Each violent sob causes her body to quiver. Lucy pauses and rubs her face onto the floor, a poorly substituted tissue which only serves to make her face rawer. Elfman leans down until his head rests between her shoulder blades.
"I'm going to be forced to remember it, aren't I? I'll be forced to remember it just like she is now."
Mira nods, apologetic and numb. His head presses firmer and firmer between her shoulder blades. Her brother never one for tears, sniffles, and then her shoulders are wet. Some piece in her openly objects and protests, because she and Elfman are far too old for this.
His sniffles become buried between her shoulder blades and continued screaming. Mira joins her on the floor and presses her cheek against the floor. His tears soak through her robe, warming her skin. His fingers wander until he can grasp her sleeve. Mira closes her eyes, takes a shaky breath, and joins them in crying.