[Witches' Horses] Vasilisa
Title: don't step on a crack
'Verse/characters: Vasilisa
Prompt: 17A "shades"
Word Count: 871
Notes: Between come into my parlour and things you'd rather not see.
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The room smelled. She hadn't noticed at first, mind overwhelmed with the voice in the walls and the comforting feel of her doll clutched in her hands, but the room smelled of burned dust and neglected wires, rust and ozone and a little of something like blood. No paint, she thought, looking around cautiously, the birches had been painted much too long ago, no oil or sealant in the joints--
She tried not to flinch when one of the bare bulbs in the ceiling went out with a zapping sound. The emergency lighting didn't increase in response, so she was left in a puddle of darkness, heart suddenly pounding again, and she couldn't make herself move--
Tiny fingers touched her wrist, closing partially around it, squeezing too gently to be a ghost. She breathed out, shaking, and took careful, feeling steps until she could see her feet on the deck plates again. When she took another step her inner ear roiled, and she stumbled forward, found herself in a section of heavier, tilted gravity and only just barely kept herself from tumbling head over heels into the floor.
"Ow," she whispered involuntarily, sitting back on her heels to examine the scrapes on her palms. The bloody smell was back, but at least this time she had an explanation; her doll passed her skin sealant and a cotton ball, and the familiar lemony smell of her first aid kit helped.
After she finished gluing her skin back together, she frowned at the panel she was sitting on--she could feel the tilted gravity pulsing gently. "That's not supposed to be doing that," she said, half a question, and her doll shook her head, went rooting through the pouch.
"Sort the lights out, first," her doll said, "can't work if we can't see." She'd come up with a tiny flashlight, was holding it against her side like a load of firewood, pointing it at the floor where Vasilisa could see the seams of the flooring. Several were warped, raised edges like traps to catch unwary feet, and at least one was vibrating to the same pulse as the one beneath them.
Vasilisa swallowed, put away her first aid kit, then stood up, settled her doll and her tools at her belt. She wished she had Zhenia or Ilyana with her, someone to hold her hand and tell her it would be alright. Wished she wasn't alone.
Her doll's hand crept into hers as she brushed her shirt off.
She blinked, tears pricking at her eyes, then walked carefully across the room towards the access panel for the emergency lights.
The floor was a chessboard of heavier panels. She only found one coil that had tweaked light--the way the engineering books said they were supposed to fail if they did--and ended up nearly falling on her face again after she took two long gliding hops across the light section and found another heavy just beyond it. That one hadn't even had the courtesy to tweak in the same direction as the others, and when she flailed her way into balance she found she was standing at an angle like she was a goat perched on a mountain face.
Another step took her back into the normal gravity, and she wobbled again before she found her way upright.
"It was never meant to be in atmosphere," her doll whispered as she sidestepped another heavy section, that one bad enough the deck was humming with it. "All the synchronization is off because of the planet's gravity."
Vasilisa thought about that. Thought about trying to reset every coil, every panel individually. Thought about trying to ask the voice in the walls if she would--
"Playing games, prince?" asked the floor as she stepped over a tiny grill, and she froze, one foot not quite touching the floor.
"No, grandmother," she said when she could breathe in. "Just trying to mind your floor."
"It's seen worse things than princes' feet," the voice dismissed, then cut off in a groan of unhappy gears.
"Turn off the gravity then," Vasilisa muttered, stepping over one of the raised panels and trying not to wince as the metal rang at the sound of her weight.
Something went k-chunk.
She froze, then frowned, listening. The humming was gone, even the rattling vibration of the panel that had tweaked badly heavy. Experimentally, she called "Grandmother?"
The wall by the emergency light panel tried to gnash its teeth. "Come here, timid prince. You've work to do!"
So she did, she saw when the panel cover popped off to reveal a mess of burnt wires. "I need spares, grandmother," she said automatically, like she was in school working on a test.
"There aren't any," the wall replied. "Fix it anyway."
She looked down at her doll, trying not to cry, and the doll mimed kissing her fingers, then Vasilisa's cheek. Then she put down the no longer needed flashlight--the access panel's internal still worked--and pulled Vasilisa's insulated gloves out of her pouch. "You can do this," the doll mouthed.
Taking a shaky breath, trying not to sneeze at the dust and burnt smell, Vasilisa nodded, took the gloves and a driver, and went looking in the panel.
'Verse/characters: Vasilisa
Prompt: 17A "shades"
Word Count: 871
Notes: Between come into my parlour and things you'd rather not see.
---------
The room smelled. She hadn't noticed at first, mind overwhelmed with the voice in the walls and the comforting feel of her doll clutched in her hands, but the room smelled of burned dust and neglected wires, rust and ozone and a little of something like blood. No paint, she thought, looking around cautiously, the birches had been painted much too long ago, no oil or sealant in the joints--
She tried not to flinch when one of the bare bulbs in the ceiling went out with a zapping sound. The emergency lighting didn't increase in response, so she was left in a puddle of darkness, heart suddenly pounding again, and she couldn't make herself move--
Tiny fingers touched her wrist, closing partially around it, squeezing too gently to be a ghost. She breathed out, shaking, and took careful, feeling steps until she could see her feet on the deck plates again. When she took another step her inner ear roiled, and she stumbled forward, found herself in a section of heavier, tilted gravity and only just barely kept herself from tumbling head over heels into the floor.
"Ow," she whispered involuntarily, sitting back on her heels to examine the scrapes on her palms. The bloody smell was back, but at least this time she had an explanation; her doll passed her skin sealant and a cotton ball, and the familiar lemony smell of her first aid kit helped.
After she finished gluing her skin back together, she frowned at the panel she was sitting on--she could feel the tilted gravity pulsing gently. "That's not supposed to be doing that," she said, half a question, and her doll shook her head, went rooting through the pouch.
"Sort the lights out, first," her doll said, "can't work if we can't see." She'd come up with a tiny flashlight, was holding it against her side like a load of firewood, pointing it at the floor where Vasilisa could see the seams of the flooring. Several were warped, raised edges like traps to catch unwary feet, and at least one was vibrating to the same pulse as the one beneath them.
Vasilisa swallowed, put away her first aid kit, then stood up, settled her doll and her tools at her belt. She wished she had Zhenia or Ilyana with her, someone to hold her hand and tell her it would be alright. Wished she wasn't alone.
Her doll's hand crept into hers as she brushed her shirt off.
She blinked, tears pricking at her eyes, then walked carefully across the room towards the access panel for the emergency lights.
The floor was a chessboard of heavier panels. She only found one coil that had tweaked light--the way the engineering books said they were supposed to fail if they did--and ended up nearly falling on her face again after she took two long gliding hops across the light section and found another heavy just beyond it. That one hadn't even had the courtesy to tweak in the same direction as the others, and when she flailed her way into balance she found she was standing at an angle like she was a goat perched on a mountain face.
Another step took her back into the normal gravity, and she wobbled again before she found her way upright.
"It was never meant to be in atmosphere," her doll whispered as she sidestepped another heavy section, that one bad enough the deck was humming with it. "All the synchronization is off because of the planet's gravity."
Vasilisa thought about that. Thought about trying to reset every coil, every panel individually. Thought about trying to ask the voice in the walls if she would--
"Playing games, prince?" asked the floor as she stepped over a tiny grill, and she froze, one foot not quite touching the floor.
"No, grandmother," she said when she could breathe in. "Just trying to mind your floor."
"It's seen worse things than princes' feet," the voice dismissed, then cut off in a groan of unhappy gears.
"Turn off the gravity then," Vasilisa muttered, stepping over one of the raised panels and trying not to wince as the metal rang at the sound of her weight.
Something went k-chunk.
She froze, then frowned, listening. The humming was gone, even the rattling vibration of the panel that had tweaked badly heavy. Experimentally, she called "Grandmother?"
The wall by the emergency light panel tried to gnash its teeth. "Come here, timid prince. You've work to do!"
So she did, she saw when the panel cover popped off to reveal a mess of burnt wires. "I need spares, grandmother," she said automatically, like she was in school working on a test.
"There aren't any," the wall replied. "Fix it anyway."
She looked down at her doll, trying not to cry, and the doll mimed kissing her fingers, then Vasilisa's cheek. Then she put down the no longer needed flashlight--the access panel's internal still worked--and pulled Vasilisa's insulated gloves out of her pouch. "You can do this," the doll mouthed.
Taking a shaky breath, trying not to sneeze at the dust and burnt smell, Vasilisa nodded, took the gloves and a driver, and went looking in the panel.