pearl essence

2

Elizabeth of York aesthetic for @margarettudor

   Endearingly called “the Gracious Queen” by her subjects, one clear demonstration of the English people’s love for her can be recalled: while progressing over a carpet of woolen cloth that watching crowds were permitted afterward to take as a souvenir, a riot ensued and some died in the ordeal, all to obtain a piece of the cloth the Queen had tread on.

   After her premature death, the Tower – where she had died – ceased almost entirely to be used as a royal residence. Her family and subjects genuinely grieved her loss.

Borders And Horizon Lines

Around the time Mr. Greg originally aired, @zombee made an interesting remark about how amazing it was that each line of the bridge of It’s Over sounded like the title of a Pearl/Rose fic. In an attempt to break out of an awful writing slump, I decided to use just that as prompts for a bunch of interconnected ficlets, all different but in relatively familiar and comfortable (for me) Pearlrose territory, in thematic rather than chronological order. So here they are, ten in all - nothing too polished, but hopefully effective. Only bold, precise, and experimental if you squint. ~3700 words.


War and glory

The raids and battles of the tense, packed day all go surprisingly well - it almost seems like a miracle. Their reunion is teary-eyed and giggly and just the smallest bit light-headed with relief, with hands tangled in hair and haphazard kisses. But there are no injuries to speak of, seven eager new recruits are joining the ranks of the Crystal Gems, and Pearl is humming at Rose’s side with a happy bounce to her step. Keeping the compliments coming is the easiest thing Rose has done in a long while.

“Oh, and I loved that little flourish you did at the end there, with your swords? Very precise and imposing, good for sending a message and leaving a lasting impression.” Pearl preens at that, and Rose is all too happy to continue and drive it home. “It was all very charming, too. You are charming.”

“Y-yeah? I am?”

The little sideways looks Pearl keeps shooting her are irresistible, and easily drive away any remaining doubt regarding that statement Rose might have had. “Absolutely. Look at me, I am charmed, completely won over. Can’t you tell?”

“Well, I do try to be at my best… It’s, uh… I just don’t like to presume…”

“I know you don’t,” Rose softly cuts into the reluctant stammer, punctuating her point with a peck to the hand that had been on its way to cover Pearl’s increasingly blue face before she soundly captured it in hers. “But please always presume this. Look at you. What more could I possibly want?”

“Well, a few more quartz battalions surely wouldn’t come amiss,” Pearl starts only half-jokingly before Rose pulls her into her arms.

“I’d rather have you than a thousand of them.”

Believing her is the easiest thing Pearl has done in a long while.

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The greatest hunger in life is not for food, money, success, status, security, sex, or even love from the opposite sex. Time and again people have achieved all these things and wound up still feeling dissatisfied- indeed, often more dissatisfied than when they began. The deepest hunger in life is a secret that is revealed only when a person is willing to unlock a hidden part of the self. In the ancient traditions of wisdom, this quest has been likened to diving for the most precious pearl in existence, a poetic way of saying that you have to swim far out beyond shallow waters, plunge deep into yourself, and search patiently until the pearl beyond price is found. The pearl is also called essence, the breath of god, the water of life…labels for what we, in our more prosaic scientific age, would simply call TRANSFORMATION.
—  Deepak Chopra
Somewhere To Begin

First ficlet for Pearlrose Week, for the day 1 theme healing tears.

Summary: Rose angsts some. There are tears even though there isn’t anyone around that needs healing, and also there are cuddles. The war is hard on everyone, what can I say. ~1800 words, no warnings. With thanks to @jeejyboard for the beta and general fic wrangling assistance.

Somewhere To Begin



It is an unpleasant truth that becomes evident to Rose very early on, then sticks to the roof of her mouth like something thick and cloying and bitter and supposedly edible the humans thought to share with her: war is difficult when your most important power - the advantage upon which hinges the survival of your entire rebellion and all your comrades - necessitates that your heart remain utterly unhardened, and demands that you allow yourself to feel every single hurt of every single overeager makeshift soldier under your banner.

But in the face of the depths of loyalty and devotion she’s witness to every day, it also feels like the very least she can do.

The grass she calls up to lie on is bright green and young and as soft as she can manage - she is allowed personal indulgences in private, at least. It feels heavenly against her bare feet, blissfully free of shards of friend and foe alike. It feels even better against her neck and back, as she settles down and her hair fans out around her in a giant pink halo. Most importantly, it feels nothing like the barren, claustrophobic canyon that was the site of her most recent costly triumph, and it doesn’t remind her at all of the burning sting that surrounds her eyes after a full day of desperate attempts to save as many as she can.

She often wonders how many more victories she has in her.

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