A/N: This piece is dedicated to the reviewer Anna C who reviewed "Out of Darkness". She encouraged me to expand on Thorne's experiences while he was blind, so when I found the prompt "rhythm", this piece was born. I hope you enjoy!
PS: I don't own the Lunar Chronicles. That credit goes all to Marissa Meyer. I'm just knocking about in her world for a bit.
The uneven rattle was going to drive him crazy.
Thorne was sitting on his bunk, listening to the sounds of the Rampion's engine. He didn't remember this rattle when Iko was running the ship. She had probably been in constant communication with Cinder over every single air bubble or loose screw in the whole ship. Now, Darla held their fate in her hands; or, rather, her new hulking form. At least Cinder didn't have to override any of her systems to adjust for the larger mass, he mused, remembering Iko's wails (one could only assume they passed for Android wails) during her first days as the ship. Darla, however, obviously did not have the proper programming to keep his ship in tip top shape if she was letting that rattle go unnoticed.
Heaving a sigh, he stood, fairly certain he hadn't been close to anything he could crash into. Wolf had walked him back to his room last, and the burly soldier always checked for anything that could harm Thorne before he left. Thorne could tell by the way he would pause, and sometimes pace the room, before leaving. It was one of the reasons he'd ask Wolf to walk him back - even if he did tend to grip Thorne's arm more like he was a criminal than a friend.
So it was with a bit too much confidence that he forged ahead, knowing he would be safe from obstacles to trip his feet.
Klunk. If he'd had his vision, he'd be seeing stars. Lacking sight, his body compensated with a throbbing pain over his right eye.
One hand pressed to his forehead, attempting to hold in the pain, the other groped around , searching for the chair he had vacated only moments before. He cursed when his search came up empty. What a twisted life, his thoughts took in the irony of the situation. Get bashed in the head with my own ship, no worries. Can't find a chair? Can't handle that.
He gave up his search for a seat, hoping that if he walked out the door with a hand over his eye someone would offer him an ice pack. There was no way he could make it to the galley to get it himself.
Thorne reached out and placed his free hand on the wall in front of him, sliding it back and forth, searching for the entryway. When his fingers met air, he knew he'd found it, and keeping his arm outstretched, he shuffled his feet forward in the direction of the opening.
I need whiskers, he mused as he nearly created a matching bruise over his left eye, recalling all his research on cats to attempt to convince his parents that they should have a real cat instead of a robotic one.
If I did, then maybe I could sense where the door frame was. Abandoning the protection of his abused eye, he held both arms out in front of him, waving them awkwardly around him to sense the edges of the hallway.
He could tell he reached the cargo bay when his footsteps echoed through the larger space. He remembered Wolf had been sparring with Cinder before he had gone to his room, so he figured the space should be a safe, straight walk.
Why isn't anyone around? I'm certainly making enough noise to wake the dead. His steps reverberated through the area, and since the Rampion offered few gathering spaces outside the cargo bay, he had figured he would run into someone there.
Mentally cursing his entire crew, he ticked off the other areas they might be found. Wolf is in the galley, he mused. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food, even if the fare was bland and repetitive. Cinder's probably in the engine room getting dirty.
If Kai's with her, she's probably getting nothing done. If Iko's with her, she's probably overhauling the entire engine. He decided Iko probably wasn't with her because then there wouldn't be the unrhythmic rattle that had driven him from his cabin the first place. So that means she's down there with Kai, so they're probably kissing. If Iko's down there, it's to swoon over it being better than a net drama. That wasn't entirely fair. In all honesty, Iko was probably hunkered down somewhere recharging her battery cell and reviewing newsfeeds and making checklists for their newest plan.
A plan that relies on me to pilot the stupid podship.
Thorne felt the frustration welling up in his chest. There was no reason for them to be cooped up in the Rampion dodging everyone who was out after them when they could have just moved on to their new plan.
In the back of his mind, he wondered if he could fly in the same manner he had defended them on the roof, his hands on the controls, and Cress' voice guiding his actions. He smiled as his mind wandered to the kiss they had shared, and ...
No. He reminded himself firmly. In the first place, there's only room for two in the podship, which means we can't complete the mission of bringing Kai to Earth if we can't fit him in the podship.
Cress could sit in your lap. Was he going crazy? Talking to himself like this was too much. Or maybe he'd hit his head harder than he'd thought and he was beginning to have delusional ramblings.
He paused in his progress across the cargo bay to poke cautiously about his eye. It didn't seem puffy, at least. He pressed harder. A slight concussion would be easier to stand than the thought that he was going crazy.
"Hello." His voice filled the space, and he tried to imagine the sound waves penetrating the doorways of the cargo bay, moving to any area of the ship where someone in his crew might hear him.
All he heard was his own echo returning to him.
Finally. Footsteps. Thorne cocked his head. Boots. That didn't help because almost all of them wore the army boots they had found on the Rampion. Except Iko. Or Kai still wore his dress shoes from when they captured him. And Cress. He sealed his thoughts from disappointment that Cress wasn't coming to his rescue. That was better for her.
The gate was too even to be Cinder's heavy on one side walk. That meant Wolf, which was confirmed a moment later by Wolf's large hand settling onto his shoulder.
"Thorne?" His voice was gruff, a natural deepness enhanced by sleeplessness and worry.
Thorne let out a sigh of relief. "Wolf. Finally. I've been banging around out here for ages."
Wolf was already guiding him toward a seat, the feel underneath him that of the crates stacked around the cargo bay. "What did you do to your head?" His finger prodded at Thorne's face, making Thorne wince. "Stay here. I'll see if we have anything cold."
He didn't wait for Thorne's response; the only sign that Thorne was alone again was the silence when Wolf's footsteps faded into nothingness.
Rattle. Rattle. Thunk. Rattle. Thunk. Thunk. Rattle. Rattle. The noise hadn't stopped; if anything, it was intensified here in the heart of the ship. Pressing his hands over his ears didn't help. He considered singing, and even found a tune floating its way into his head. He lifted his hands away from his ears. He didn't think he knew the song, so it couldn't be coming from his own mind. If it wasn't such a dangerous proposition, he'd follow the sound. He had to content himself with leaning forward as far as he could, willing his ears to pick the melody out of all the background noises.
He smiled when he realized that it was Cress singing. The muted effect was caused by the water running in the shower, and the multiple closed doors between them. It was also quite ancient, as Thorne could not make out a single word he could recognize.
Leaning further, he tried to hum along to the tune, picking out the repetitions, focusing on the verses.
He didn't realize the crate had tipped forward underneath him until he felt himself falling. The floor met his knees first, shocking both of them into numbness that was forgotten as first his arms and then his head collided with the ground.
His ears were ringing from the fall, but he could feel the vibration of running feet through the cold beneath his cheek.
"Thorne? Are you all right?" The hands helping him up we're softer, the voice less like gravelly then before. Thorne could feel the heat in his cheeks as he realized he was being helped up by the Emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth. "What happened?"
When in a tight spot, lie your way out if it. "I was performing a routine check of the strength of the floorboards, Your Majesty." He ignored the mumbled "You don't have to call me that," and continued. "I'm glad to report she's in tip top shape."
"Your face isn't." Their voices had disguised Wolf's approach, but Thorne could feel the iron grip on his upper arm.
"Purple isn't the new fashion?" He'd tried to keep his voice pleasant, but internally he groaned. This blindness was going to ruin his good looks.
He was standing close enough to Wolf to feel the shrug. "Not when it's the result of bruising. You're lucky you didn't give yourself a concussion."
"Maybe he should go lie down?"
"I'm still conscious here; I may be blind, but I'm not deaf yet."
"Sorry. Do you want to go lie down?" The Emperor did sound apologetic. Thorne decided he deserved another chance.
"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. I think I'll stick to wandering around only when I have an escort."
It was Wolf who guided him back to his bunk and placed something cold on his face, leaving him with a stern warning to stay put while he grabbed some salve to help with the bruising. When he was done with that, he told Thorne he was leaving.
"Wait!" Thorne reached his hand out, raking the air to grab ahold of the soldier. "You've got to put some music on or something. The rattling is driving me crazy."
Held hostage, Thorne could imagine Wolf tilting his head to listen to the ship. "Sounds quiet to me."
"No, wait. I'm not crazy." Holding his breath, Thorne listened to the ship again. Nothing? "That can't be, it was a rattle and thunk and ..."
Wolf gingerly took Thorne's hand off his sleeve. "That was Cinder. She's been down there for hours making a racket. That's probably what you heard."
A few steps, and the door whooshed shut, leaving Thorne alone again.
He listened, counting the seconds before he'd hear something out of place in the steady rhythm of the engine. Nothing. He let out the breath he'd been holding.
I'm going crazy. It was a bleak outlook. All his time in prison, in solitary even, hadn't broken his spirits. Blindness might do it. He took his shoes off and lay back in his bunk. He didn't have to worry about the dullness of the scenery in his cabin, the blackness was more boring than the bottom of the bed over his head.
The newfound quiet allowed his mind to wander, and he thought back to Cress' singing, letting the chorus fill his head. It was a soothing piece, lulling his ruffled emotions and helping him find a peace he hadn't felt in days.
He let his eyelids drift close, hoping to lose himself in sleep and so get a few hours closer to sight and normalcy.
NaNoWriMo 2017 Word Count: 1,951