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“ We were friends—!”
Gem’s cry as she ducked behind a tree stops Pearl from releasing the arrow she had drawn back, once ready at a moment’s notice to be fired. It shouldn’t have. It shouldn’t have made Pearl’s fingers twitch, it shouldn’t have made her arms go weak, it shouldn’t have made her suppress a shudder, it shouldn’t have made her feel anything .
But it did. It did, and it’s the worst feeling in the world. It’s an icy realisation that everything has gone horribly wrong.
( She’s been here before, the dawning horror holding her back from releasing the bowstring that had been pulled back fully, a hesitation that she will come to regret to this very day. Hesitation meant the difference between having her demise set in stone and a revenge she should’ve earned. She should’ve shot him. Oh, how satisfying would it feel now to watch the blood pour out from an arrow to the heart, to have respite for everything he’s done.)
We were friends. Gem’s voice swirls in her head. We were friends. We were friends.
Scar and Gem’s yelling become more muffled as blood rushes to her head and ringing starts to fill her ears. It’s too difficult to focus on what’s happening, despite it being a matter of life and death. She doesn’t have it in her to question why she switched the bow in her hand for a sword she’s rarely used all game, there’s no time to think.
It’s like she doesn’t have control of her own body when she calls for Gem, like she’s constantly one step behind what her impulse is pushing her to do. She stumbles down a hill in a frenzy to catch up to Scar and Gem, both too preoccupied with the other to spare a glance at her direction.
You can shoot her right now. You could’ve, if you still had your bow in your hand.
“Hold on—” She pleads to players who don’t listen. “Let me think—” She asks in spite of the urgency. “Gem, you can sword it out with me! You—”
Why give her the offer?
“We can just sword it out—!” Pearl repeats, watching Scar swing for Gem with his sword.
Haven’t you sworn loyalty to Scar?
The sight before her turns into a blur as thoughts swarm her head, unyielding and vying for a scrap of her attention all at once. She knows her grip on the handle of her sword has loosened, but trying to grab hold of it suddenly feels impossible. It reminds her of flailing underwater and screaming about the unfairness of it all. Breathing shouldn’t be this ragged and rapid when you’re on ground. It shouldn’t be this hard, but all she remembers is saltwater entering her lungs. It’s losing control of your limbs and watching your body be carried by the waves of the ocean.
There’s a distinct sound of metal clashing in the background, amidst the static growing in Pearl’s mind. If she can just think for a moment—
Will you fail your allies again?
Are you accepting your fate? Survivor. Champion. Always alone, always too late to protect them.
Why are you hesitating ?
There’s a clank and swirl of liquid she recognises as the use of a lava bucket. Then, a scream.
A blade is buried and pressed deep into flesh.
It isn’t Pearl.
It isn’t Gem.
Crimson blood seeps into the dark fabric of Scar’s cloak, now with a gaping hole torn open, it spills onto the poppies and lilacs adorning him.
Pearl is pulled back to reality with the bright flash of a lightning strike. The sky rumbles as it claims another body collapsed on the ground.
Scar’s dead.
Scar’s dead, and it’s your fault. You hesitated. You could’ve helped him. You couldn’t save anyone. You failed them all. Mumbo. Bdubs. Joel. Scar.
This is why you’re alone.
Pearl screams for Scar’s name. She stares at the lava pooling from the spot on the ground where his corpse would’ve been. The petals which have fallen from his clothing become charred and reduced to ashes.
(She had caught glimpses of Scott’s burnt body moments before the soulmate link between them took her final life as well. She looks back on that grotesque sight, and she wonders if it would’ve felt any better if he had been sliced with her axe and marred by her wolves. She knows the answer now, hungry for a kill she never got to have.)
Her vision follows the trail of blood dripping from a diamond sword.
It leads her back to Gem.
It’s strange how she hasn’t noticed until now, how the mischievous and energetic demeanour in Gem has been replaced by hitched breaths, sagged shoulders, weary glances and shaking hands. There’s more blood coating her hands, the same pair that was used to take two of her lives. Behind that pair of hands were TNT rigged to explode and punctured lungs. (But, behind them, there were also hand-picked flowers, light tugs on her cloak, and apologetic gifts.)
Their eyes meet.
(They looked into each other’s eyes and extended invitations for the other to join their side, but it wasn’t enough to stop the firing of crossbows and the galloping of horses, giving chase. Later on, they shoot each other a regretful glance across cherry blossom woods. They shake their heads, they never draw their bows, but it wasn’t enough to stop the massacre that followed.)
Gem steps backwards and holds up her shield reflexively. Pearl sees through to the panic in Gem’s eyes and the thumping in her chest grows louder.
Don’t you want revenge? She adjusts her grip on her sword.
The bloodlust that comes with being a red is an old acquaintance. It’s the wickedness that’s made itself a home in her. It’s the howling of wolves and stalking in snowy woods. There’s familiarity in losing herself in the hunt and having no remorse for the prey. She’s accepted it in the past with a bitter laugh.
What doesn’t feel the same though, is the lingering weakness in her limbs.
(“Gem, you don’t want to do this, right?” )
(“No, I don’t.” )
“Pearl?” Gem’s voice wavers and the exhaustion laced between her shallow breaths is all too obvious to notice. Pearl can’t help but catch onto the terror in her tone. It’s not what she’s used to.
( “Pearl, you’re scaring me…” )
“I’m— Can we just…stop?” Gem pleads. “Please?”
There’s a horrible ache in Pearl’s chest. In a corner of her mind, she laments how simple it all would be if Pearl couldn’t hear the desperation in an old friend’s voice.
Still, Pearl doesn’t have the strength to mask the reality of their situation.
“We can’t.” She answers. “You know we can’t, Gem.”
Despite that, Gem lowers her shield. Her sword is pointed away from Pearl, and in the back of Pearl’s mind, she contemplates how easy it would be to pull out her bow again and aim for Gem. (It’s probably not as easy as she’d like to think.)
“Pearl...” Gem’s voice almost turns into a whine. Sunlight bounces off of her teary eyes, which makes her forcefully blink in an attempt to stop it from trickling downwards.
Something claws at Pearl’s heart. Amidst the red in her eyes and the fury in her mind, there are vines made out of sorrow and grief snaking their way through her ribcage. There are thorns that prick and dig into her chest, and with every sob Pearl hears Gem trying to hide, she grows more aware of the way her heart hammers, how it’s strangled and split into pieces.
Pearl catches a glimpse of her reflection from the sword in her hand, not yet spoiled with blood to cover its blue sheen. Her own scarlet eyes stare back at her.
The silence between Pearl and Gem is only accentuated by the noise of bubbling magma, encroaching onto the ground around it to swallow nature into its fiery body. The petals from Scar’s body can no longer be seen.
Pearl is the one to break the standstill. She sits her wolves down, and she takes one heavy step after another to close the distance between her and Gem.
Gem doesn’t move from her spot, her back against Scar’s Sunflower Valley. She maintains a wobbly frown and a loose grip on her scratched and bloody blade.
“I’m tired.” Gem admits, allowing her sword to fall. The grass below them rustles.
“I know.” Pearl answers. Me too, she omits.
Pearl’s vision fixates on Gem’s trembling hands. For all her remaining stubbornness to keep her composure, she sheathes her sword and places her shield down, going against the screaming in her head, the you’ve failed your Mounders, your family, the you are nothing but an omen, you are everything wicked, you know nothing but lonesome towers and the thrill of the hunt— A blaze roars in her head, demanding blood.
Her scarred hands take Gem’s into her own. The shaking subsides ever so slightly, and Pearl’s thumb trace circles onto Gem’s dirtied palm. (She swallows the bitter laugh building up in her throat, there’s surely some messed up joke about holding a pair of hands with your blood on them, yet still not wanting to let go.)
“We had fun, didn’t we?” Pearl asks, thinking of sunflowers, hearts given, dragons slain, towers with the most unfortunate colour scheme and shape ever, names mixed up and camel rides.
Gem perks up, the helplessness behind her expression briefly flashing cluelessness instead. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Pearl’s hands slip away from Gem’s, and she ignores how she aches for the missing warmth. She also ignores the way her arms twitch, almost moving to wrap themselves around Gem’s waist and envelop her in a hug. She doesn’t allow herself to do so, because she won’t have the strength to let go, otherwise.
She kneels down, then reaches for Gem’s sword, nestled among the grass—
She can imagine herself plunging the blade into Gem’s abdomen vividly, letting the blood spill onto the greenery. She can hear Gem’s scream. She can see her eyes widen with betrayal, how all colour fade from her irises. The silence in the air would be replaced by manic laughter and choked sobs.
—and she presents the handle of the sword to Gem.
“Then do this for me, Gem.” Pearl says, standing up and pressing the hilt onto Gem’s palm.
Gem wordlessly accepts the weapon, but she stays frozen.
Pearl takes in the hesitation still lingering in Gem’s arms. She expected it, but it doesn’t stop her from sighing, the foul taste of regret coating her tongue. She grits her teeth while arming herself with her own sword, and it glows purple with its enchantments.
Finally, as she steels herself for what she’s about to do, the storm in her mind crows with satisfaction.
Pearl takes the first swing.
It’s a wild slash, aimed just generally in Gem’s direction, allowing her to dart away with ease once the initial shock faded.
Gem huffs, steadying herself with a stomp backwards.
Pearl doesn’t back off just yet, and she lunges forward to thrust her sword. Gem blocks the attack with her shield, but the force of it sends her stumbling back again. Gem scrambles to balance herself, while Pearl pulls her blade out, prying bits of the wood along with it.
Pearl’s lungs are burning with how quickly she’s breathing, her breaths more shallow than the last. Despite this, she dashes up close to Gem and slams her sword onto Gem’s shield.
It manages to disarm her for a moment, the shield is loose from Gem’s hand just long enough for Pearl to slice into her shoulder. Gem yelps as the fresh wound sizzles, tiny flames dancing around it.
The burst of fire from Pearl’s blade dies down, and Pearl lets the voices of delight at blood drawn drown out every other thought in her head. (This time, she won’t let herself hesitate. She doesn’t question why she forgot her sword had Fire Aspect. She doesn’t pay attention to her gaze at Gem softening ever so slightly.)
With quick footwork, Gem moves to attack, instantly managing to nick Pearl’s arm during her frenzied rush to swing again.
Gem’s next blow is met with a parry, clashing her sword with Pearl’s. They both push to send the other off balance, and as the sound of metal scraping against one another elicits shivers down their spine, Gem catches Pearl’s legs wobbling.
Gem gives one last shove, making Pearl’s legs give out from under her.
Pearl trips onto the ground, but she reacts just in time to dodge a stab from Gem by rolling away. She begins crawling to gain distance from Gem, pushing herself to stand. However, as the exhaustion etched in her bones catches up to her, so does Gem.
She’s dropped her sword after landing on the floor, and she’s sure she can’t avoid the upcoming attack in time.
A gash is made on her leg, forcing a scream from Pearl’s throat.
Thankfully, the wave of pain also causes a surge of energy in her, allowing her to leap forward. She hisses with each movement of her injured leg, but she’s determined to grab her sword.
Despite her blurring vision, she finds the hilt of her sword.
Pearl wastes no time in clambering up to stand, wheezing as she searches frantically for Gem. What she sees is only a silhouette of a figure, now woozy from every blow she’s sustained.
With a shaky exhale, she lunges towards the figure, not even sure if she can aim her swing accurately.
She does feel the whoosh of air produced by a blade, though.
Pearl doesn’t make an attempt to dodge, or to block.
Perhaps she’s seeing doubles, because in the corner of her eye, she can spot four familiar figures watching the duel unfold.
“ PEARL—! ”
Everything goes black with the crackle of a lightning strike.
You ran out of lives!