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Pearl’s glad Mumbo has started this season with labeling the intended viewpoint of his base, instead of waiting until the end. Especially since he’s apparently already been shamed for not doing the back and has gotten to that early, which means there’s not one clear angle that works while all the rest are rubbish. Anywhere around the build could be the vision that Mumbo had in mind.
Until Pearl stands at the sign, of course. Then it all makes sense.
It’s a perfect spot to stop and eat lunch. Her legs dangle off the side of the viewpoint cliff, swaying in the breeze coming through–or from?--the windmills below. Between bites of the steak sandwich, the sounds of her faithful ghast behind her keep Pearl from losing herself entirely in the moment; the fact that it’s that close is a testament to the view. Mumbo’s ability to set up a scene that tells its story all atonce never ceases to amaze, even if it’s stopped surprising.
They’re not often awake at the same times, which at this point is getting impressive, considering that Mumbo is hardly awake at the same time any two days in a row. And even when they are, they both have a tendency to get so deep into their own projects that they don’t take notice of who else is around; an inconvenient if hilarious similarity. Ships passing in the night, seeking each other by the wake.
So they have to find other ways to stay in touch, like a long-distance couple (despite, of course, not being very far away at all). Little notes left at each other’s last known log-in point; shulkers snuck into storage systems named ‘Thought you could use this’; a heart carefully trampled into a wheat field. Mumbo has allowed Pearl to store a backup set of her firefighting tools in his workshop, because even though her base isn’t that much farther from spawn, every second counts.
And any excuse to know she’s visited, even when he’s not there.
In a way, Pearl thinks, they’ve swapped themes since last season. Inspiration can come from all sides, but it’s fun to consider the unconscious influence that she and Mumbo have had on one another.
The sprawling wheat fields and power-line-linked windmills of Mumbo’s farmhouse below would slot in perfectly next to Pearl’s solarpunk citadel; even the moss-topped rocks wouldn’t be out of place. Looking at it almost feels like looking at the past through a funhouse mirror. The gradient on the rocks’ a little different than on hers, sure, but terraforming is an art more than a science.
Meanwhile, Mumbo’s charming cliffside town could certainly have used a fire station on hand, between the smoke pouring from the factory and Scar’s burning tree so close by. And already she’s thinking of ways to pick his brain about the armor stand tricks he’d mastered so quickly, to fill out the residences cropping up next to her fire training center.
Her eyes, as they always do, track upwards to the shadows in the sky. The semiperfect V formations of geese above Mumbo’s base still impresses Pearl every time she sees it. It’s an encapsulation of his ‘buildstone’ ideology, one that she’s started pulling into her own builds–but nothing quite like this. Enough lightning rods to satisfy fire safety needs for his whole base (at least from lightning strikes), and the synchronized flapping of wings echoing through the sky. She feels her heart match it in turn, beating in time.
It’s not quite hearing Mumbo’s heart pressed against her own. But it’s good enough for now.