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The sails turn, the wind shifts, and the tide changes. Here comes a new start, and gosh is it approaching faster than ever. Heck, it’s already begun.
Mining is one of the best ways to have a think, Gem learnt that from an old friend, and yet she finds fishing is even better.
It’s relaxing, it’s enjoyable, and it’s extremely grounding. ‘Grounding’ in a way that is, well, both comforting, and at the same time, slightly frightening. Though Gem doesn’t let it worry her. She simply rigs her rod, and thinks it away.
To ‘have a think’ could mean many things, really. Brainstorming base ideas, wondering whether it’s a ‘farming’ day or a ‘building’ day, and… to ‘have a think’ could very literally mean, just thinking. Just thinking . Raw thoughts, completely unfiltered. Whether these thoughts are good for the mind, or bad, Gem doesn’t like to think too hard about it. But she finds herself doing exactly that, anyways.
And there she is again, thinking. As if in the ocean without a sense of up or down, she sinks. Completely engulfed. Drowned in thought.
Her red fishing float bobs gently on the water’s surface, and the sun feels sweet resting upon her cheeks. Her boat is anchored, and it sways gently with the current. Salty air beneath her sleeves, hair flowing just as the water flows beneath. Her feet hover over the water, dangling from her knees that are precariously positioned over the side of her boat as she sits on the stern. But she is content, and there is a rod in her hands, and she is fishing. And she is thinking.
Ever heard of intrusive thoughts? That imagery of having a little devil on a shoulder and an angel on the other? Sometimes they float into Gem’s mind uninvited, but they do so in such a way that makes Gem want to think more about it, no matter how much she hates it.
Gem is scared of getting lost in thought. So what? Fishing is grounding. Every time there’s a slight tug on her line and a splash in the water, she’s back to reality. And it always works. It always works.
But there’s another line inside Gem’s head. Consistently tugging and pleading. It’s not a fishing line, it’s more of… a rope. Something constricting. Something thick and strong, something hard to resist or cut. Too far means too thick, too thick means too strong, and too strong means… Well, let’s leave it at ‘too much of a weight on Gem’s shoulders.’
What isn’t a weight on Gem’s shoulders, is swimming. Gliding through the water, alongside dolphins and fish and whatever else Gem manages to find in the reefs beside her beginnings of a home. Fully clothed, too. It’s a pain to find a new set and wash the current of salt water, but it was all in good fun.
As much as swimming is a form of Gem’s relaxation, many times has she managed to find herself distracted in the act, too. Lost in her thoughts. It’s risen to a bit of a problem now, and it’s finally bought Gem’s attention. Though she shuts it out. She tries to.
It’s only until she feels her lungs constrict, as if bound by thick rope. Her chest feels heavy, and she no longer sees flurries of white bubbles, spiralling up to the surface. The rope seems to tighten the longer Gem thinks, so much so that something clicks in her mind, and she wakes up.
Goodness gracious, she’s drowning.
But it’s all in good fun! It’s all in good fun , is what Gem tells herself. Is it?
Not the drowning part, the swimming. She went for a swim, and just got a little carried away, and just… forgot to breathe? Wait. That doesn’t sound right. That can’t be n— But then Gem pushes the thought away. She’s grown quite good at that.
It’s happened many times in the past week, which is quite concerning judging by the fact that she had only started anew a week ago, but Gem is fine. Gem is fine.
It’s not the fact that Gem can’t swim or can’t breathe, she certainly knows herself that she can very well. It’s more so the fact that Gem thinks too much. Then she gets carried away, and… nearly loses her life.
But it’s all fixed with a respawn! And Gem doesn’t mind losing the game of Demise either! It does her self-esteem in a bit, but she’s completely a-okay!
Don’t want to deal with the pain of drowning? Just hit that respawn button and everything is solved! No biggie!
No biggie.
Well, not until Etho comes along.
“Neighbour!” is what Etho exclaims when he sees Gem fishing on her boat, still in the risky position she was seated since last he saw. Yet Etho doesn’t receive a “Hi Etho!” in return when Gem hears his voice, or even registers it in that fact.
Gem yells.
It’s something shocked, for sure. Something high-pitched. Something that sounds very ‘ Gem’ . Something that Etho often hears in reply when sprouting from behind her, only to yell something like ‘boo’ or ‘did that make you jump,’ just for the sake of the laughs.
But when Gem screams, not only is it something shocked or high-pitched. It’s something genuine. Something truly terrified, but Etho can’t yet tell.
And that , is when Gem falls into the water.
It might have been the way she was seated, or it may have been the ebb of the current, the subtle shifting of the boat just as Etho called out so abruptly.
Whatever it was, it didn’t cross Etho’s mind either.
Etho can’t help but smile and laugh a little as Gem falls. He’s of course going to help her out, but being the good friend he is, Etho always takes a moment to let out the giggles.
Meanwhile, Gem is wound up in thought.
When she hits the water, she sinks. As does her fishing rod as it slips from her grasp. She’s back in that state of relaxation, of what seems to be inescapable thinking.
Her limbs feel weak and sore, the tip of her stomach begins to ache, and she once again feels that same, constricting, shrinking feeling in her lungs.
“Gem?”
Gem can’t hear anything. She’s silent. She’s thinking, but she’s thoughtless.
The feeling of water pressing up against her skin, through her chest…
The gentle current sweeping her hair through the water, as it mindlessly bumps her head against the sand caked below, or as it pushes her into the wooden hull of her boat… again… and again… and again….
“Gem, you uh– you planning on comin’ up anytime soon?”
It feels safe, and it feels comfortable. It’s as if Gem’s mind is slowly unwinding, and she’s drifting off into a state of calm and fatigue, and then there’s this rush of relief. Like seeing a bed after a long day of travelling, or finally being able to sit down after hours and hours of building…
“Gem…”
…A place to lay her head and rest certainly sounded like a nice idea. Have a drink, something to eat, and maybe she could see if Etho was up for a little catch-up chat. She could make him some tea… bake some cookies…
“...Ge–”
…Half a day of fishing straight, staring at the glistening surface of water– and gosh, had the sunlight made Gem’s head hurt . She had been seemingly mesmerised, locked in a state of consciousness yet oblivion. She couldn’t wait to return to the safety of…
“–em….”
The safety of her….
“...”
Her…
…Was she—
“Holy smokes , Gem!”
And goodness , was it suddenly bright out.
Gem found herself on land– or, what she assumed was land. It felt hard and lumpy on her back, hot and dry, yet soft and sticky. Her eyelids felt heavier than Etho’s skulkers after resource gathering, yet they felt thinner than ever, and she could barely raise her hand to shield them from the sun.
Then it dawned on her.
There was a dry taste in her mouth, a quiet ringing in her ears. Her head felt light and yet her body felt heavy. And there was a piercing, burning sensation in her chest. The same, constricting feeling she had felt so many times before.
Gem barely managed to choke out a ‘what…?’ before she began coughing on her own breath, gagging on sea water until it blurted out onto the sand beneath her.
“Woah, woah! Okay… Okay, easy does it. Relax…”
Gem was hastily lifted into a sitting position, her soaked body heaving against that equally wet of Etho’s, her chin digging into his shoulder, with his hand ramming again and again into her upper back.
And gosh , did it hurt. It hurt, but it helped so much.
“Etho… I’m so sorry,” says Gem, in a quiet, strained tone. Yet the quiet tone doesn’t cover her heart-breaking Canadian accent. It’s the accent that tells Etho he’s in for something, whatever it is. It’s always an indicator for the worst.
“Save it for later, Gem. Save it for later. You’re good now. I’ve got you.”
Etho slowly pulls into an embrace, and he seems completely unphased by everything else, everything that’s happened. It simply doesn’t bother him. He’s cradling a friend in his arms, after all. And this friend in particular seems to need a lot of cradling.
By the look on her face, the way she talks and acts, her sluggish, laborious movements, Etho can tell that something is up. Something deeper than the fact that Gem had nearly lost her first life. But he doesn’t force it from her, and he doesn’t ask any questions. His arms remain wrapped around her frail, shaking body, and they stay like that until she can steady her breathing, until she decides to move, or until she falls asleep, helpless in his arms.
In which, Gem does exactly that.
It only takes a few hours for Gem to wake and find herself on a bed.
The setup isn’t anything much. It’s simply a tent, nothing more, nothing less. Wooden supports, woollen roof. Plain white bed, and a few chests– which is really all the tent has room to hold.
The fact that Etho is on the grass, curled against a chest with his head sagging down is the only giveaway that quite some time has passed. Gem never sees the hermits sleep, let alone Etho out of all people.
As Gem heaves herself into a sitting position, her eyes seem to raise directly to the water once more. The salty air fills her lungs and she feels her muscles relax. As her boat sways with the current, she finds herself shifting with it, and then, she’s back where she started.
“It’s all too tempting” , Gem tells herself. It doesn’t scare her. Whatever ‘ it ’ is. Gem isn’t stressed. She isn’t worried. She doesn’t feel undervalued or pushed aside, nor does she feel hurt or scorned.
Gem is just… tired . Too tired. She needs peace . Peace that she can only find in one way.
Her eyes have fluttered shut, and she once again finds herself surrounded by water. The sun feels warm against her back, yet her face is met with icy cold sea, gently pushing her body up, and down… and up and down… and–
There’s that feeling.
Constricting, aching, and freezing. Yet this time, it comes stronger. This time, it comes stronger, and darkness meets her much faster.
Gem is almost fighting to stay conscious, yet she doesn’t care. Her mind is reeling, her body feels light yet it feels as if everything she wears is dragging her down.
Then, Gem feels a warm hand against her cheek, and she passes out.
--:x:--
“Wakey wakey.” Etho says in a rather concerned sing-song voice, which cues for Gem to stir. More so, it cues for Gem to stop stirring, and start waking. “Come on Gem, you can do it. It’s getting kinda dark out. I’d hate for you to get sniped by mobs.”
What Etho is referring to, is how exposed they currently are. Gem lies drenched in a white bed, under a small, makeshift tent of wool and oak. Kneeling beside her, is an equally soaked Pearl.
Then, Gem’s eyes shoot open, and before she knows it, she’s coughing and gasping for air. She coughs, yet no water comes out, and she gasps, yet she’s breathing.
She’s breathing .
“Dang it, Gem…” Pearl’s voice feels like an arrow straight to Gem’s chest. “That didn’t go too well now, did it?”
Gem shakes her head. She kneels at the base of the bed, having fallen off earlier. “No… No, it really didn’t…”
“D’you wanna talk about it?” Etho asks, as if he doesn’t know already. “Or,” he continues, in a softer tone, “do you want hugs?”
“I feel like hugs would do it, yeah.”
Then instead of that constricting, aching, freezing feeling, Gem only feels comfort, and warmth.