Chapter 8: Raining Feelings

Lily saw Thorne in a light she’d never seen him in before. Softer and softer. He hung his head low as they waited for the rain to end beneath an old oak tree. His fingers fidgeted with the grass swan that she’d given him.

‘What was she like?’ Lily asked, starting to weave another swan.

‘Oh, her…’ Thorne looked down at the ground like it was going to give him the words.

‘She was-she was a great person in life and death. She was the reason I was able to keep fighting.’

‘I’m sure she was loved well,’ Lily sympathised.

‘She was’

The silence settled again and Lily hated it. She couldn’t break the grip that that man had on his quiet. She figured he hadn’t spoken much in the past but she wished he’d speak more to her. She also hadn’t been spoken to, too much in her past.

Thorne sighed.

The rain seemed never-ending. And it was steadily getting worse. Lily struggled to finish her grass swan as the wind whipped at her fingers.

She handed him the second swan.

‘You don’t have to run away from me, you know?’ she said, turning away from him. She didn’t want him to see that her eyes were tearing up all over again. She didn’t want him to see her cry more than he already had.

More silence.

She began the third grass crane, her fingers pulling and twisting at the earth. It was all she could do to keep his silence from overwhelming her completely. She felt the wet grass slip through her fingers, making it harder and harder to shape out the swan.

‘Who taught you that?’ he asked.

‘My grandmother,’ Lily said, trying her hardest to hide her relief at hearing the sound of his voice, ‘It was something that she’d learned as a kid,’

‘She had a lot of free time, and her parents had planned to send her off to get married in the richer side of the country so her education hadn’t gone far.’ Lily stammered as she tried to remember everything that her grandmother had told her, ‘But then that all didn’t work out when the war started and she was drafted.’

‘And then…’ Lily’s hands twitched; she’d forgotten the rest of the story. She felt a little ashamed.

‘I can’t remember the rest.’

She looked back at Thorne; his helmet gave her no indication of what he was feeling. She couldn’t even guess what he was thinking.

‘Interesting,’ he answered. Lily was annoyed by that, it didn’t add anything. If anything, it put their conversation to a halt. But, she supposed, that he wasn’t in any mood to talk. Not here at least.

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Lily’s hair got wetter, she felt it stick against her face. She shivered; her clothes were getting lightly soaked. Thorne walked out into the rain, motioning at her. He walked back inside the castle ruins; Lily hadn’t suggested it out of respect for him.

It was warm inside; a thick layer of moss and dirt kept the room cosy. Lily ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it. Fresh water droplets fell to the ground.

She felt a cold grab softly at her wrist, she looked up in a quiet shock. Thorne trailed his steel finger to the palm of her hand and took it. He didn’t look at her, she was secretly glad. Because if he did, he’d have seen she was glowing.

‘Come with me, Miss Lily,’ he pulled at her and she followed. She felt a heat rising to her cheeks, her palms quickly turning sweaty. She hoped he couldn’t feel it.

He took her to a twirling staircase, the sound of his boots echoed against the emptiness. They climbed up only a few sets of stairs before he’d found what he was looking for. It looked like a girl’s bedroom, there were dresses that had been prepared for something that the wearer hadn’t gotten to see. Lily didn’t have to think too hard as to whose room this had been. She was honoured.

A stained-glass window looked out at a view that was now masked by vines and leaves, Lily could hear rain beat against it.

‘Take what you want,’ he said abruptly, turning to walk back down the staircase.

Lily turned, grabbing tightly at his shoulder.

‘You’re staying here,’ she said vehemently. She wasn’t going to let him out of her sight again, she couldn’t trust him not to disappear again. And then who would take her home?

‘I-, Alright,’ Thorne protested but gave up quickly, ‘But aren’t you going to try any of them on?’

‘Just turn around!’ she yelled and hid her face from him. Was she really going to change with a guy in the room? She didn’t know what people did in these kinds of situations.

But she didn’t want to waste his offer.

She took three brisk steps toward the wardrobe, blindly grabbing two outfits. She held each up to her neck, staring up at Thorne. Their silks brushed against her cheek, tickling her skin. It was so soft.

‘W-Which one do you like more?’ she stuttered, hiding her cheeks behind them.

Thorne gazed at her; stuck in thought.

‘The blue one,’ he answered.

‘O-Okay,’ she said, putting the other dress down against the bed, ‘Now t-turn around!’

Thorne obliged, his back facing her. This silence felt a little warmer than the others, Lily liked this one. The fabrics were lighter than anything she’d worn before; the blue dress hugged against her tense figure. She squirmed, nervousness eating at her.

‘You can look now,’ she said, shyly. She felt embarrassed, even the sound of her voice came out awkward. What was she doing? What was he doing?

He looked back. Through that thick armour, there was no telling what he felt. But she could guess. He seemed… happy.

‘Well…? What do you think?’ Lily asked, holding the sides of the dress up. She spun around, the layers of the dress swirling against each other.

‘It’s good.’ He took a step forward, Lily froze. Her eyes fluttered at him; he was so much taller then her. She hadn’t really noticed that before.

‘Just good?’ she asked, tentatively getting closer to him. She put a hand against the back of his neck. He felt so warm.

‘I mean,’ Thorne paused, briefly looking away from her, ‘Stunning.’

‘A little more, please.’

She gave him a pleading set of eyes.

Thorne shifted, ‘You’re… enchanting’

She gave him a wide grin. ‘That’s better,’ she teased, stepping back from him.

Lily jumped down onto the bed, bouncing at little against it. Her hair spread out against the pillow; she looked up at the ceiling. There was a half-finished painting that spread out to the edges of the wall. Some kind of legend she hadn’t heard of.

‘Thorne…’ she called out, hearing the steady armour move in response, ‘Come here.’

She patted at the other half of the mattress. The man stood for a moment, unsure. Then he fell down against the bed, she felt his weight pull at the blankets. She rolled in a little closer to him.

‘Close your eyes,’ she told him. She didn’t know if he did, she just had to hope he did.

She traced her fingers against the coarse metal mask of his. She wondered if he felt it.

She leaned in closer.