( Smear of mildew on his cheek where his fall breaks, face first, on a deck rattled by vibration. The screams cut, bloom. His fingers nearly break on the wood, nails pinning.

Then, he starts to move, limbs artless as they fight the lock of his joints and knuckles, all of his strength of will opposing the advance. He cannot — shifts and fumbles, like an animal, on hands and knees, onward, onward, to the waiting relief of an —

Abyss. No, a hole in the deck, farther out, but within sight’s reach. The boom of sound bolsters just as the mists part, and he feels himself crawl further, until luck favours him, and he crashes into the root of a mast that stays him. He thinks, even as his hands fight him, to stop it and unwinds the sashes of his robes, wrapping, teeth gritting, a wide spread of silk around his head, his ears. It does not mute the shriek completely, but stabs through the song with increments of clarity.

He is not alone. Teeth gritting — and the pain anchors him — he barely turns around to hold out one end of his second fluttering sash, half mouthing, half screaming: )

Bind your ears!