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Scott stands below the cobblestone monstrosity that houses his so-called soulmate, green eyes glaring up at where he knows her to be hiding.
His back has been driving him to the brink of insanity. His skin is itchy and irritated and he wants to dig his perfectly trimmed nails into his back and rip his skin clean off. Healing salves and lotion only go so far and he’s so past the point of sweet relief when using them that they don’t even take the edge off anymore.
He didn’t realize what was going on.
Not until a few days ago when he caught Tango using one of his fence posts as a backscratcher.
Talking to the Netherborn about his own impossible-to-get-rid-of itch, telling him that Jimmy probably needed to preen his wings, it dawned on the starborn that his problem and Tango’s problem were one in the same.
Soulmates with wings who wouldn’t preen them.
Though, to be fair, in Tango’s case, it was more likely a ‘forgot to’ and not a ‘wouldn’t’.
Jimmy, sweet pretty Jimmy, can be quite forgetful at the best of times, and damn near negligent to his health at the worst of times. If the first game taught him anything about his hus — correction — ex -husband, it was that.
However.
In Scott’s case, it was quite the opposite.
Pearl was being incredibly stubborn and refused to preen her wings just to spite him. She knows she needs to preen them, she’d been so diligent about it in the previous game, and yet here she was, hiding in her ugly tower, refusing to even do that one little thing.
And it, quite frankly, pisses him off to no end.
“Pearl!” he yells, hiding the anger boiling in him from his voice. “Can you come down and talk to me?”
A red hooded figure pokes their head out of a window at the top of the tower and dull crimson eyes glare down at him. “What do you want, Scott?” Pearl yells back.
“I just want to talk!”
“Yeah? Well I don’t!” And like the very mature adult she is, she sticks out her tongue.
Scott puts his hands on his hips. “Pearl, if you don’t come down here, I’m going up there.”
“Fine!”
His hearing isn’t as good as when he was a hobbit or an elf, or even in the last game when he was part warden, but he still thinks he can hear her ‘ugh, soulmates’ from a couple dozen meters below her tower.
Within minutes, the wooden door to the tower is creaking open and his soulmate appears. He’d just seen her a few days ago but every time is like a knife to the heart.
Pearl looks...ragged and battleworn. Her clothes are tattered, her hair is a mess, she has dirt and mud smudged on her skin, there’s what Scott hopes is red dye but knows without a doubt is blood staining her cloak, and there’s dark circles under her dull crimson eyes. And he can’t really see them from under her cloak, but he’s sure her wings are in just the same state of dishevelment as the rest of her.
The two of them are still on their first life, and yet, yet Pearl looks like she’s on her final life.
“What do you want?” It’s less of a question and more of a biting growl from a rabid animal. Pearl isn’t having a good day it seems, but neither is he.
Scott takes a moment to breathe. Talking to Pearl these days makes him want to throw himself off her tower. He needs to be calm, keep a cool head, and keep a level tone.
“Pearl,” he says, finally, putting a smile on his face even though he wants to tear his hair out. “I’m just here to ask you to please take care of your wings. They’re disheveled and in dire need of preening.”
The sour look and glare she had on her face before doesn’t compare to the inferno of anger on it now. She inhales sharply and her fingers twitch as if reaching for the axe she normally keeps on her hip. Why it’s not there, Scott doesn’t know, nor does he really care.
“Excuse me?” she hisses.
“I can’t see them, but I can feel how irritated they are. If you don’t take care of them soon, you’re going to get sick.”
She bares her teeth at him and he could’ve sworn they were more blunt than they are today. “My wings are none of your business.”
“They’re as much my business as your’s since we’re soulmates.” Scott doesn’t know if the anger making his blood boil belongs to himself, or to her. His guess? It’s a little of both.
“We’re not soulmates, remember? You keep telling me that over and over again,” her fingers twitch again and...did her nails always look that sharp?
“Pearl. If you don’t take care of your wings —”
“Then I’ll get sick. So what? What’s it matter to you if I get sick?” She jabs a finger into his chest, and yup, it’s definitely sharper than before, “We’re not allies, Scott, and you can’t tell me what to do.”
He wants to hit her.
He really, really wants to hit her.
He’s never wanted to hit anyone more in his life.
This version of Pearl always brings out the worst in him.
He wants to hit her, but, he won’t. That would just make things worse, and she’s already in a pissy mood, there’s no need to add fuel to the fire.
So instead, he tries for a sweet smile.
“Pearl,” he says, voice soft as flower petals. “I know we’re not partners, but I still care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt yourself.” He raises a hand and gently sets it on her hand...her skin is cold to the touch, almost like the powdered snow she likes to torture him with.
Her hand jerks away from his as if she’d been burned. “Go away,” she growls.
He forces down a sigh — it’s like talking to a brick wall, except, a wall might actually listen. “If you need help, I can preen them for you,” he reaches out to her again, stepping closer, fingers almost brushing her wrist.
*smack*
The resounding punch is loud in the quiet forest.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” Pearl all but snarls at him, hands clenched into fists, looking like a wild animal ready to fight. She may not have her axe on her but that doesn’t mean she’s defenseless.
Scott touches his lip, feeling the warm wet blood there mixed with the stinging pain, and looks at his fingers. Bright red blood. The last thing he ever expected of her was for her to strike him.
His bright green eyes turn cold at the realization of what just happened, and his calm facade falls. “Fine,” he growls back at her. “Get sick for all I care.”
With that, he turns on his heels and storms into the forest, cursing her name and the ones who tied them together.
Pearl watches him go, teeth bared and fists still held before her, and she only relaxes once he’s out of her sight.
Well...
‘Relax’ isn’t the right word.
She’s still angry, far angrier than she’s been so far, but she’s hurt, and not just because of the twin sting she feels on her lip that she gave Scott.
After all he’s said and done, leaving her without a friend, without an ally, a soulmate...he thinks he can just walk back into her life and pretend to care about her. He had his chance and he blew it on that day that he turned her away.
But...
He is right about one thing.
As loathe as she is to admit it...her wings are in bad shape.
They haven’t been preened since the start of the game, not since before it was announced that she’d be getting a soulmate.
Pearl had cleaned them extra well and straightened all her feathers into perfect alignment, just to look nice for her soulmate. She even splurged a bit on some extravagant wing oil to make them look extra shiny and pretty.
She spent so much longer than she normally would have on making them look nice, but...it was all for nought.
Scott still threw her away like last night’s trash.
He hates her and doesn’t want anything to do with her, and she doesn’t want such a cold unfeeling jerk touching her. Even if They put them together, he has no right to touch her wings.
Even if...
Even if they’d been allies, been friends , in the previous game.
She lifts one of dark wings tucked under her cloak and stares at it.
Her wings used to be so pretty.
Midnight black feathers, perfectly straight, perfectly aligned, shining in the light with flecks of blues and greens — Grian and Jimmy often told her they reminded them of the void. And when the third game started, she’d also gained some long green and cyan feathers, a marker of her green life, and a companion to the green streak in Scott’s cyan hair.
Her wings were so, so pretty at the start.
But now...
Now the midnight has faded into a dull matte black and they no longer shine nor sparkle. Even the green and cyan feathers, the only color that remained after Scott broke her heart, are dark and dull, like someone washed away the color with dirty water. Her feathers, once so pristine, are crooked and ragged. Dirt and twigs, and maybe some blood, grind between her feathers and make her skin itch.
Scott is right.
Her wings are a mess and need preening...have needed preening for quite some time now.
If this was any other time, any other world besides this one, they would be preened and cleaned on the daily.
If this wasn’t a world of soulmates, she wouldn’t have needed to be told to preen them.
Normally, she’d do it without question, without even thinking twice. She might ask someone for help, like she did in the last game when it was just her and Scott, but…
Pearl shudders and shoves the wing back under her cloak where she can’t see it.
This isn’t the last game.
Scott isn’t her ally, he’s not even her friend.
This world is cruel, and cold, and snuffs out any kindness before it’s even had a chance to spread. No one is friends in this world, and no one would ever willingly help her — not Scott, her soulmate; not Cleo, an ally in a previous world; not Martyn who braved the Nether with her on day one; no one…
She’s all alone and it’s all Their fault.
*ding*
Solidarity: Hey, Pearl! I just wanna say, if you need anything, I’m always here for ya!
Except...
Pearl stares at the communication device on her arm, dark eyes reading the message once, twice, three times.
She hasn’t interacted much with anyone this game, other than torturing Scott or the odd visit to the Ranch where Jimmy lives with his soulmate. But...the few times she had gone has always been nice.
Jimmy always welcomes her warmly and would share what little he has with her, mostly a nice cooked meal and strong hugs. Tango too, though, he mostly keeps his distance, whether it’s because of her or if he just wants to give her some time with her brother, she doesn’t know.
What she does know, however, is that Jimmy might just be her answer.
She won’t — can’t — preen her wings.
The very thought of burying her fingers in them and touching the ones that match her soulmate, makes her sick to stomach. And there’s no way in Hell that she’d let Scott touch them after what he’s done to her.
But Jimmy...
She’d be okay with Jimmy touching them.
Jimmy is family and he’s always been there for her and hasn’t ever done anything to betray her or hurt her. And! And he’d be gentle and wouldn’t lecture her on wing care like Grian would.
Jimmy is the perfect solution, she thinks to herself as she turns the screen off on her comms.
She doesn’t know why he sent that message, but she’s so glad he did.
Him sending that message to her, just when she needed someone most, makes her think that maybe this world isn’t so bad after all. If it hasn’t snuffed out Jimmy’s bright and kind nature yet, then that means there’s still a chance for her to be happy, even if it isn’t with her soulmate.
Pearl makes her way through the forest, footsteps light and her movements quick.
It doesn’t take her long, moving as fast as she is, to reach the cobblestone wall that surrounds the Ranch and only sometimes protects it from intruders. She hops onto the wall, careful to not go over because of the wheat field she knows is there, and looks around for the man she wants to see.
“Jimmy!” she calls out, seeing the golden haired, yellow eyed man on the far side of the field. His eyes shoot up to her and she waves.
“Pearl!” he calls back, a smile on his face as bright as the sun. He puts down his wheat and walks over to her. “How ya been?”
There's something in his eyes, she thinks, that tells her that he’s worried about her.
“I’m...” she thinks, only briefly, of lying, but just looking at the worry in his eyes and the concern on his face...she can’t lie to him. She sighs and sits on the wall, legs dangling just above the wheat. “I’m not fine, Jimmy,” she says, honestly.
He doesn’t say anything to that, only holds out his hands to her, palms up — an offering of a hug.
She doesn’t think twice and slides from the wall and into his awaiting arms. She barely touches him and his arms are surrounding her in a firm but very warm embrace.
“Do ya wanna talk about it?” he asks, voice soft against her hair.
She shakes her head ‘no’.
“Well, I’m here if ya need to, okay?” He rubs her shoulder and while he can’t see it, his hand brushes against the top of her wing. “You can come to me for anything.”
Sweet kind Jimmy.
Her beloved brother.
She pulls away from the hug, not completely, only enough to look at him, to see the genuine concern on his face. She turns her eyes away, shame flickering to life in her chest. “There’s...there’s one thing...” she says and she wonders if her voice is as quiet to him as it sounds to her.
“Anything.”
“Could you...preen my wings?”
He gives her a small nod, “Yeah, I can do that.” He’s the one to pull away now, a hand sliding down to take her own. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”
Jimmy leads her through the pale yellow wheat and to the birch box that him and his soulmate call home. He opens the door for her and guides her inside. “D’you want anything to drink?”
She shakes her head. She’s too nervous to drink anything. “Can we just get it done?”
He nods at her and motions towards the bed, silently telling her where to go.
As she steps over to the single white bed, she unbuttons the cloak. She hesitates.
Jimmy isn’t Grian.
He’s not going to judge her for anything.
He won’t judge her for not taking care of her wings.
It’s okay, she tells herself.
She slides the cloak from her shoulders and pulls it off. The rough material grazes her wings and it hurts. She shudders as they shuffle free and she feels like throwing up.
There’s a sharp inhale from behind her followed by a shaky exhale.
Her wings must be even worse than she imagined.
Shame bubbles inside her. She wants to run. She wants to go back to her tower and hide from everyone, from the world.
She doesn’t see the hand reaching out.
Warm fingers touch her shoulder, avoiding the top of her wing, and she startles. She looks up into her brother’s face, seeing his golden eyes there, concerned.
“It’s okay, Pearl,” he says, voice soft like the breeze that blows through her tower, “You’re okay.” He gently squeezes her shoulder and the touch grounds her.
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t need to, but she nods anyhow.
“If at any point you need me to stop, I will, all right? Just tell me, yeah?”
She nods again and he guides her towards the bed. She toes off her untied shoes and slides onto the bed, leaving plenty of space behind her for him.
The bed dips with Jimmy’s added weight and she pulls her knees up, hugging them to her chest. Pearl can feel his warm body kneeling behind her, his hands hovering over the top of her right wing. Just knowing they’re there, it makes her heart race and her stomach churn.
But she has to do this.
Her wings need preening, and Jimmy’s the only one she trusts enough to do this.
“Pearl,” he calls her name in a quiet voice, and she turns her head a fraction towards him. “Is it okay to touch them?”
She swallows the lump in her throat and nods. “I-it’s okay,” she replies, her own voice cracking.
She braces herself for the touch and only moments later, his hands are on the top of her wing, gentle and warm.
Jimmy’s fingers glide through her dull feathers, shaking loose dust and dirt, and picking out tiny pebbles and broken twigs. They move slowly and carefully as if they’re touching something fragile and easily broken.
But maybe that’s what she is now...
Fragile and so very easy to break.
The moment Scott turned her away and denied their bond, her heart had shattered into a million pieces — it didn’t even take a second. She was left standing there, fragments of hope and happiness at finally finding her soulmate being swept away by a sea of grief and anger.
She’s drowning in it and every time she thinks she finds a handhold, something to keep her afloat, it instead just shoves her further under the surface.
She’s broken and she doesn’t see a future where that could ever be different.
And it’s all Scott’s fault.
If he had just been there for her, if he had just accepted her and not thrown her away, she wouldn’t be like this. If he had just been the soulmate she wanted him to be, she’d be happy and they’d be together.
Why couldn’t he accept her?
Why couldn’t he just love her like she loves him?
Why did it have to turn out like this?
Why couldn’t they have been close like they were in the last game?
Why?
Why why why why whyw hywhywhywhy
“...rl?” a voice, soft as light and warm, calls from the aether around her, “...earl?”
Hands touch her, burning her frozen skin, and she leans into it, “Can you...?” Maybe they could melt her and she could just disappear. “...hear me?”
The hands touch her face, lifting it towards the sun, bright and golden, and warm. “Come back...” Would she go blind if she stared too long into it, she wonders. “Come back to me.”
She blinks, she has to because the sun is too bright, and her eyes are hazy, like a fog had descended on her vision.
“Pearl?” the voice calls her name, beckoning her towards the light.
“It’s okay...I’m here.”
More warmth wraps around her, pulling her in and trying to chase away the cold darkness surrounding her. She leans into it, digging her far-too-sharp nails into the sun and trying to steal it for herself.
She’s so cold and the sun is so warm and she just wants it to destroy her, to make the broken fragile thing she’s become disappear from this cruel world.
Just as she clings to the light, the darkness clings to her, burying it’s claws in her heart and dragging her under. She tries to fight back, she does, but in the end, it’s all for nought.
There’s no fighting the darkness.
There’s only accepting it with open arms and letting it consume you.
It’s no wonder that Scott chose Cleo over me, I’m useless and weak, she thinks as the shadows finally claim her and she slips away from the sun.
Pearl’s tense, shaking body goes slack in Jimmy’s arms and her fingers loosen their grip on the back of his shirt.
But still, she doesn’t let go of him, and he doesn’t let go of her.
Jimmy sits with his sister, holding her tight against his chest, trying to help her ground herself.
He’s at a complete loss as to what happened or how quickly things had turned from not good to bad to worse.
Just minutes ago, he had been behind her, preening her wings with as much care as he uses when tending the animals or garden. There was so much dirt and dust in her wings, countless twigs and rocks, and almost every one of her feathers was either broken, falling loose, or out of alignment.
Grian would’ve had an aneurysm at the sight of her wings.
But Jimmy did his best to fix them, to clean them out and straighten them, and make the dull wings look pretty again, like they did at the start of the third death game.
And Pearl had sat through it all, shaking like a leaf, but not saying a word. He had told her that if she needed him to stop to tell him, and he would stop immediately.
She didn’t say a word.
Not a single word.
He had thought that maybe she was shaking and curled into herself because the irritation was too much. It had clearly been a while since she last preened, maybe even since before the game started, and he had thought that maybe she was trying to soldier through it.
It was only when he heard a quiet choking sob that he knew something was even wrong.
He immediately stopped touching her wings and he’d moved from behind her to in front of her so he could see her face. He had to make sure she was okay.
The tears in her eyes and the pain on her face told him that she was anything but.
Pearl was hurting and she had been trying to hide it.
But...
Her thoughts were loud.
She was screaming into the Void and her voice was so loud, so piercing and distraught, that he could Hear it.
He had wrapped his arms around her, had pulled her against him, and had held her tight while she lost herself to the Void inside her mind. An ocean of tears had soaked into his shirt and her nails had probably broken the skin on his back from how tightly she dug them in.
But now she’s silent, having either passed out or cried herself to sleep, and Jimmy doesn’t know what to do other than to continue holding her.
For all the times he’s had an anxiety attack and one of his family or friends had helped him through it, it’s done nothing to guide him from the grounder’s point of view. The only thing he could think to do was to hold her, and he’s not even sure if that’s the right thing.
But it must’ve been the right thing, or somewhere along the side of right, because her thoughts did quiet down. And now she’s not crying anymore.
But he won’t know for sure until she wakes up.
And for all he knows, that won’t be for awhile.
But that’s okay, he thinks. He’s more than willing to sit here with Pearl and hold her.
Jimmy combs his fingers through her messy muted brown hair and hopes that she’s getting at least some reprieve from whatever’s been causing her pain.
“It’s gonna be okay, Pearl,” he whispers into her hair, “Your brother’s here for ya.”
Pearl wakes slowly to the sound of soft singing and the smell of food cooking. There’s something firm below her and in her arms, firm but warm, and beneath her ear is a steady rhythmic thumping b-bmp b-bmp b-bmp.
Someone is holding her.
Someone has their arm around her and a hand in her hair, and they’re singing softly.
How long has it been since she was last held like this? she wonders to herself
Too long if she can’t even remember.
She wants to live in this moment forever.
Time should stop right now and let her live the rest of her days right here in this warm embrace.
But time stops for no one.
And besides, there’s a second voice coming from somewhere that’s saying that food is almost done.
When was the last time she ate a proper, freshly-cooked meal and not cold half-burned steak?
Her stomach squeezes at the thought and she realizes that she’s hungry.
She doesn’t want to get up to tend to her needs.
But she has to.
Pearl cracks her eyes open and it’s not easy. There’s some kind of crusty substance trying to keep them closed that she has to rub away. But once she does, she can see, and what she sees first is just white.
She shifts her eyes and she’s met with the inside of the Rancher’s birch box.
It’s dim inside the box, the only light being a few flickering lanterns. Tango stands in the small makeshift kitchen on the other side of the room, cooking something in a skillet.
If Tango’s over there, then that must mean...
She glances up and sees the person holding her.
“Hey, Pearl,” Jimmy greets her, a soft smile on his face. “You with us?”
She nods, “Y-yeah,” her voice cracks and she wonders why her throat feels sore.
“Dinner’s almost done if you’re hungry.”
She is, but she doesn’t want to move. Not yet. So she puts her head back down and listens to the steady thrumming of her brother’s heart. “Not yet.”
“All right, we’ll wait.”
Jimmy’s fingers slide through her hair slowly and it feels as nice as the arm holding her close.
She could stay in this moment forever.
But she wonders, briefly, in the back of her mind, how she even got here. Last she knew, he had been preening her wings.
“What happened?” she asks.
The fingers still, but only for a moment. “You had an anxiety attack, I think,” he answers softly, without judgement. “I was preening your wings and you started crying.
“Oh...I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Pearl.”
He says that, but it must still be an inconvenience to him.
“I didn’t know what else to do so I just hugged you. I’m sorry I couldn’t find a better way to ground you.”
She shakes her head, “This is good.” She gives him a little squeeze, “Jimmy hugs are the best.”
He chuckles at that and the sound vibrates through his chest. “I’m glad I could do something to help.”
Before anything more could be said from either of them, Tango calls quietly from across the room. “Hey, guys, dinner’s ready.”
“You ready to get up?” Jimmy asks her.
No. “Guess so.” She pushes herself up and away from the warm embrace and already, she misses it.
She and Jimmy slide out of the comfort of the bed and join his soulmate at the table where a home cooked meal of roast chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, rich beef gravy, and glazed carrots waits for them.
Her stomach growls and she makes a plate for herself.
The air in the Rancher’s home is light and full of love and she soaks as much of that up as she can because soon, she’ll have to return to her cold tower. She hates the idea of leaving, but she knows she can’t stay forever.
But for tonight...
Tonight she can forget all about that.
Tonight, nothing exists outside of this home.