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Cinnabar knows when Phos has come, even before they announced their presence.
Not that Phos was loud (not that they were necessarily quiet either, the soft clanging of their unruly hair a shade louder than the ocean’s subdued murmurs). Still, it was the simple sight of them, easily spotted from a wide distance, which Cinnabar recognized, a green halo bright enough to be seen from the moon. Stupid, after what happened the first time, they should have learnt to cover their hair if wandering at the dead of night. But they don’t listen to Cinnabar’s advice, nor their complaints.
Though they must admit, Phos still isn’t very easy to locate from afar, unless one were… looking for them. Which Cinnabar may have been doing.
...Every night, since the first, in all honesty. They sit facing the academy rather than the sea, which is a static sight except when it isn’t. When Phos emerges.
Cinnabar watches the entire time. There’s been events where Phos has left, then turned around, and even events when they turned around yet again.
It’s not— it shouldn’t be mistaken for anticipation. It’s nothing of the sort. Cinnabar simply isn’t one for surprises, seeing how they’ve rarely been exposed to them. And Phos is full of those damned surprises.
It’s a surprise when they slip outside, single mindedly heading towards Cinnabar’s cave. It’s a surprise when they turn around, face indiscernible from so far away, leaving the cause unknown. It’s a surprise when they suddenly whirl around and charge right back toward Cinnabar, their bright figure reminiscent of a firefly, drifting aimlessly until caught in one’s hands. Some of these occurrences are more unpleasant than others, though Cinnabar won’t specify. Fragments of mercury flutter around them in the meantime, in and out of their field of vision, not large enough to obscure Phos from their vision. Cinnabar almost wishes it does.
When Phos is close enough, at the foot of the cave and struggling to climb it, Cinnabar turns around to watch the waves, looking for their regular push and pull as a source of calm. Here, Phos is blatantly loud, huffing and sighing through the entire ordeal, nearly losing footing and shattering once or twice.
Cinnabar wonders if they’ll get better at it. Wonders if they’d get enough practice to facilitate that.
When they finally make it, and clasp their hands on Cinnabar’s shoulders with intentions to shock, Cinnabar acts as surprised as they can, jumping back to spare Phos the chance of mercury.
“Good night! Updates on today’s waves?”
Cinnabar squints at them, their brightness overwhelming in close quarters, both in luminosity and personality.
“...No. How about your… encyclopedia?”
“Nope! Don’t tell Sensei, but I lost it.” They knock a closed fist over the side of their head, the clink just short of spine chilling.
Today marks the fifth visit. There’s no rhyme or rhythm— they come intermittently, bearing smiles and slightly awkward conversation. Though… it’s probably Cinnabar’s fault it’s awkward. They’re not even kind, or interesting, or engaging. Yet Phos still visits.
Cinnabar feels like a dying plant, weakly leaning towards the light for sustenance. Asking the sun to be its savior. So pathetic, useless— if only they could be plucked. Even a withering plant can sit in a vase for a day, appreciated for its last bits of worth.
“Don’t you have someone else to keep you company?” Anyone else must be better. They barely constitute as company. They’re only here because they have nowhere else to be.. because there’s nowhere else they’re welcome.
Phos smiles, but it’s more of a grimace, forced and weary. “...Not really.. Am I annoying you?”
“N— Not really. But you should— have a reason for coming here, at least.”
They cock their head to the side. “I’m here to see you though.”
Cinnabar jolts. “Wha— that’s not a reason! It’s dangerous at night, I’m not worth—“ They catch their tongue, dipped in mercury. “I don’t want to fight the lunarians again.”
Phos places their hands at their hips and grins with baseless confidence. “They won’t see me in here! If you’re that worried, I could stay the night!”
“I’m.. on night duty. You’d be sleeping alone.”
“I’ll stay up too! It’s not like I’m doing something with the energy I get sleeping… haha.”
Whatever. Let them come. Maybe Cinnabar could try a bait and switch.
They could have. They’ve considered it. They would have.
‘Promise me you won’t say you want to go to the moon!’
They made no such promise, but what’s a couple of days after a couple hundred years? They can wait that long. Just to see.
Phos touches their arm then, light and hesitant, but Cinnabar jerks away quickly, holding their arm to their chest as if they were at risk of poison. “Hey!”
“Sorry! Sorry, I keep forgetting, ahh…” They wince, then frown. “But I wore gloves today!”
So they did… Cinnabar didn’t notice. It’s hard enough to look at Phos as it is.
“Doesn’t make much of a difference… it burns right through.”
“Ooh, well, it’s something! If the mercury comes out I'll just move super fast!
“Stupid… you’re not that fast.”
“It’s good training! Maybe I can be so fast they’ll let me figh—“ They stop with gritted teeth, wary of prodding a sore spot. “I mean, maybe I can avoid that quack doctor’s strikes.”
“...Whatever, I won’t be moving much anyway.”
“I thought you’re supposed to walk around for patrol?”
Cinnabar hasn’t gone on patrol lately. Phos doesn’t plan for Cinnabar to be anywhere else, and they need to keep themself easy to find… lest Phos subject themself to danger again.
“I can see everything from here.”
Phos scoots to their side, a distance away from the circling mercury, but just barely. “...Yeah… It’s so pretty.”
Not once has Cinnabar found it pretty. More like lonesome, maybe even loathsome. A single home built for all, a symbol of community, family. No matter what one does during the day, they all return home, to sleep under the same roof, in comfort and community.
It was Cinnabar’s decision to leave, but it was what everyone wanted. No one tried to stop them. No one mentioned it once they left. It probably made no difference to them— everyone kept their distance anyway, for their own good.
It made a difference to Cinnabar, though.
They try to see it through Phos’s eyes, with kind and optimistic light, but they can’t. There’s no experience to base it off of. Just like Phos can’t see what Cinnabar is seeing.
They risk a glance to their side. Even Phos’s eyelashes glow. Do Cinnabar’s? They’re so pretty, thin and tapered, delicate enough to snap in a harsh wind. Like blades of grass, which sway as their eyes move to and fro, from Cinnabar to the academy. Cinnabar wants to touch them.
“Don’t you get sluggish in the dark? It’s such a waste to sleep during the day..”
“No. I don’t.. need the energy… either.” It’s taxing, but preferable. Cinnabar would rather sleep during the day than watch the other gems roam the fields together, in pairs, always in pairs. Whether they’re patrolling or strolling, it’s always in company.
Their rest is uneasy, when laughter and talking can be heard from the distance, and the sun's beckoning rays stretch towards them, like an offered hand. Even when they sleep deep inside the cave, they can see it, at least a small glimmer from outside, even brighter when among the stillness and darkness of Cinnabar’s personal residence. It’s easy to sleep facing away, but just knowing what lies behind them keeps them awake.
They sit in silence for a few minutes before Phos loses interest and retreats back into the cave, likely to sleep. Cinnabar refuses to turn back to check, refuses to be disappointed. They very nearly get over it, but then—
“...Hey.. is this..?”
Cinnabar doesn’t need to hear how the sentence ends— they lunge at Phos, but luckily Phos ducks out of their way, delicately pinching the notebook between their fingers, mouth in a perfect o shape. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”
“I— you weren’t gonna finish it anyway, so I—“
There’s no real reason Cinnabar kept it. It was left on the ground, and they picked it up. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants embarrassment.
They should have returned it— they were going to, but Phos didn’t mention it, and Cinnabar forgot, and… it’s just an empty notebook anyway. Nothing’s been written yet, nothing… started. Neither of them should hold any attachment to it, anyway.
It was offered to them as they fell. Uselessly— Phos’s arms immediately broke and Cinnabar fell into their own poison. Had Cinnabar a spare second to think, they wouldn’t have bothered reaching for it; them or Phos, something’s got to give. But— but it was offered to them. Phos climbed through poison just to stick the notebook out. It doesn’t matter that it didn’t help, it was still there. When has anything, anyone, been there when Cinnabar needed?
Phos isn’t the first to offer sudden kindnesses, but they are the first to offer commitment. Cinnabar’s problems have always been their own, which none had the ability or even willingness to ease.
They’d never spoken since Phos came to be, but Cinnabar had heard of them, observed them already. They were aware of Phos’s lonesome, their ineptitude. No kinship emerged, however. Phos is more akin to the others than to Cinnabar.
None of that comes out. Instead, some very suspicious lack of eye contact.
“...Take it then.”
“No, uh..” They lean in, too close, but Cinnabar forgets to move back. Phos’ eyes are wide, it’s almost too pretty, genuine jewels. Cinnabar swears they can feel the bits of light refracted off Phos, warm like daylight. “You can have it. I’m just surprised..”
They wince and turn down, wishing to disappear. They hate being looked at just as much as they hate being ignored. Useless. “I.. was gonna give it back if you mentioned it. I thought… it’d be good. If you.. chose to return for it.
“I did mention it though? I mean, you did, actually.”
“No, I mean— like, that if— you wanted to do it. If you gave up on finding.. a job for yourself.”
“I haven’t given up!” they snap with a pout. “Well.. I’ve got nothing.. to show for it.. but I’ve been thinking about it! Honest!!”
Cinnabar turns around completely. They don’t know what kind of face they’re making, and they don’t want Phos to either. There’s this… restlessness, unlike the usual kind— not out of frustration, or irritation, but— an almost pleasant anxiety, a burst of energy, that has their fingers and bottom lip quivering. They clasp their face in their hands to keep still, a little too hard maybe, because an unpleasant crack sounds.
“Woah! Did you just fracture? Do we gotta see Rutile?”
“No.” Their voice is muffled, which they’re grateful for, because it’s unsteady. “I can handle this much.”
“Oh..”
There’s little reason to trust Phos... no, there’s no reason. If change were as easy as declaring it, then Cinnabar wouldn’t be having this problem. Childish, ignorant, clumsy— what could they possibly think of that Cinnabar hasn’t already. There’s no basis for faith. They shouldn’t hope for anything. They know that. (but…)
“Are you mad at me..? If you want, I could tell you some of my ideas… You can’t laugh though!”
“...No.. it’s okay.” They take a deep breath and finally surface. “I’m not mad…”
A mercury handprint, the image of ruin. Only on a single page, the rest of the book salvageable. And yet the page remains. For no good reason— even old mercury is hazardous, anyone with common sense would dispose of the tracest amounts. But Phos has no common sense, huh.
It’s likely they just forgot about it. That they never opened that damn book again, too lazy and weak willed to continue such a lackluster task.
“But.. you sound like you want me to give up..?” They frown, brows furrowed.
But Cinnabar can’t help but conjure things, like a message of acceptance, through mistaken actions. It feels like they’ve been— commemorated, remembered, recorded. If Phos didn’t throw it away, how could Cinnabar possibly try?
“...You shouldn’t waste your time.”
“Everyone tells me I waste my time anyway! I’m not useful to anyone anyways, haha, so—“
“Neither am I.” They will themself to look Phos in the eye, though it’s like looking at the sun, so bright its actual image is obscured. “It’s.. fine to have no use. As long as you’re not hurting anyone..”
It’s Phos who looks away first, down at the ground. “Am I hurting you?”
Yes. “No…”
Hoping hurts. The anticipation, excitement, expectations, it’s taxing. Cinnabar hates feeling this way.
“I can hurt you though— that’s why you should—“
“Have you ever poisoned someone?”
“No, because I’m careful.”
“Oh.” They blink, lashes glittering. “I thought you’re like this ‘cause you’re guilty. But could it be you’re actually just really nice?”
The mercury at their sides flare, and Phos recoils with surprise. “It has nothing to do with being nice! Everyone would hate me if I hurt one of them!”
“...I think being alone feels just as bad as feeling hated.”
Cinnabar scoffed, smiling to themself from Phos’s ignorance, in a mixture of anger and condescension. “You don’t know what it’s like. It’s completely in your potential to fit in with them. You’re wasting your time here.”
Phos moves too close into their space. “No one’s ever said my time had worth! Or that the way I am is okay!”
“Of course you are, anyone would be, if you compared them to me! You don’t realize how good you have it, there’s no point in trying to help me.” Envy, self hate, desperation rise within them— along with—
“Get away—“
They can’t help it— mercury spouts from their eyes, thin and steady streams, rolling halfway down their cheeks before lifting in the air to flutter around them. A tangible barrier between them and Phos, them and everyone, which one can easily look through but not reach through. As if to broadcast Cinnabar’s isolation, drawing in the eyes but casting away the bodies. Cinnabar can hardly see through it, vision grey and fuzzy, though they can make out Phos’ stiff figure; jerking away in surprise, then leaning forward with concern, then back again with caution. It’s frustrating, embarrassing, lonely—
“Stay away! Go back, there’s not enough space in here!”
They clutch at their sides in a sad attempt at self comfort, wishing they could draw everything within themself, have control over their own body. The mercury is chilled by the night air, wiping powder away in its trails, leaving red strips in its wake. Their body feels so heavy. The wish they could hollow it out, dig out their pointless inclusions, lackluster memories. It’s all the same, what’s there to miss? What’s there to save?
It may be no coincidence that they’re the only one that secretes this sludge. Maybe it’s a justified warning for all the others, not to approach someone so miserable, so selfish. So jealous, so vicious, so useless. It would’ve been much kinder to have never been made in the first place, save the world from the unnecessary ugliness.
What is their role in life? Useless, being useless is fine, because recovery is viable. Cinnabar wishes they were only useless. If you’re useless, someone else will come along and find you purpose, as Sensei attempted with Phos. As Phos attempts with Cinnabar.
But Cinnabar’s— a cancer. A blight in their otherwise lively community, soaking the life from all they contact. Phos treating them like they’re useless is too kind. Too optimistic. Too unreal.
They close their eyes and await the mercury’s subduel, and once it finally calms, they lift their head to check for Phos…
...Who hadn’t left the cave like instructed.
Their back is pressed against the wall of the cave, rivulets of mercury only a strayed turn from seizing their feet. Their eyes reflect curiosity more than fear, but discomfort and concern can be traced as well. So much for ‘fast reflexes’.
They gingerly step over the stream to a clear patch of ground, a stupid place to stand, willingly stranding themself. “...It looks like it comes out whenever you’re upset. So don’t you think it’ll go away if you were happy?” They smile despite their drawn brows. “You’ve never tried that, yeah?”
The shock hasn’t left their system, and mixes poorly with their embarrassment. “Shut up! What do you know!?”
Cinnabar knows it’s triggered by agitation. But knowing doesn’t do them any good— for what do they have left besides these pathetic feelings? They’d have nothing to keep them going if they weren’t even allowed that.
“Hey.” Their voice is soft, softer than Cinnabar thought they were capable of. “I’ll stay here. You don’t have to be so upset.”
They’re lost for words, poison sapped out of their tongue. If literal venom can’t chase Phos out, their words won't either. They’re… incorrigible.
“Y’know.. it’s gone, almost.”
So it is, the grey splatters surrounding them still enough to reflect the moon above. But so what, it comes and goes, fickle and chaotic. It’s not permission to let down their guard.
But Phos pokes and prods at it, tries to tear it open with their brittle fingers. And Cinnabar is softer than them. “Even if I don’t have an idea now, there’s gotta be something I can find that you haven’t thought of. You can’t know everything on your own..”
Cinnabar is silent, the side of their cheek pressed against their knees, curled up tight. They’re tempted to cover their ears, terminate these useless feelings before they sprout out.
Phos reads it as disbelief. “I’ll try really hard! I’ve been asking everyone for help! Really!!”
“Shut up… you’re useless, remember? You can’t do anything for me!”
“M.. Maybe, but— but I wanna try! Maybe I could!” They hold their hands at their chest, the very picture of sincerity “This is something I really wanna do— there’s been nothing like that for me. An encyclopedia is just— dumb, it doesn’t help anyone… Sensei just gave me it to keep me busy. But that’s not what I want.. I wanna be helpful. I wanna help you!”
Don’t misunderstand—
“You’d do it for anybody who’d let you. It’s just for your own self satisfaction.”
“No!” They swing their fists down to their sides in protest. “You’re not anybody… you’re different. I don’t want you to go to the moon… I want you to stay here.”
When has anybody ever said, much less felt such a thing? Cinnabar is a defect, a mistake that Sensei must regret— the very image of them brings him regret and pity. And to the others, they’re the threat of pain, of memory loss, of potential nothingness. Everyone would be better off if Cinnabar never existed, if they could be carried off. Them, in place of everyone’s actual friends, of actual beloved. But it makes sense— the lunarians only seek the valuable.
It’s too good to be true. Phos is just saying this for— for temporary relief, for a fleeting happiness, for useless hope. It’s just sweet words, so they can feel self important, feel accomplished. But at the end of the day, no one would go that far for Cinnabar. They’ll battle lunarians any day, risk their bodies for each other, but not for Cinnabar specifically, never. No one would sacrifice their safety for Cinnabar’s own comfort. It’s only practical, it’s selfish of Cinnabar to wish otherwise, irresponsible if they don’t set Phos on the correct path now.
The image of Phos wading through mercury flashes in their mind, unbidden. The sight of reddish-silver against moon-white, sullying, burning, destroying— yet being paid no mind.
Phos is probably too ignorant to fully understand the repercussions. They weren’t adequately warned, and recklessly reacted without thought. Wanted to be useful, or maybe show gratitude, by saving Cinnabar.
Can that really extend this far? To these nightly visits, comforting words, sweet promises? Haven’t they been informed, lectured, redirected? Every visit feels like it’ll be the last, it must be. But it hasn’t been. It isn’t.
Phos should be uncomfortable, withdrawn, wary. Someone, please, tell them that, because Cinnabar can’t find it in themself to do it.
A hand on their shoulder— it’s light, but solid, fingers slightly curled in preparation to sink in, in case of denial, which Cinnabar halfheartedly attempts. “You shouldn’t…”
“It’ll be fine.”
They say that because they don’t know. Because they’re still young, naive and open minded, not yet familiar with how cruel happenstance can be.
Cinnabar decides not to be the one to teach them.
“Just… don’t get any closer.”
Phos’s smile is annoyingly cheeky. “No promises.”
Phos stays the night, falling asleep moments after swearing they wouldn’t. Cinnabar doesn’t watch for lunarians though. Not tonight.