‘ really. the second i show my face you two fuse together. ’
the fusion’s cheap jokes grate on every damn nerve she has – and it reflects in the uncharacteristic flatness of her tone, a fanged grimace starkly contrasting smoky’s light grin. it’d been INFURIATING — losing again and again and again to these abominations, victory just out of her reach, taunting. she hadn’t survived one of the most devastating, destructive wars in gem history, clawed and ripped herself out and away from this trap of a rock, just to be beaten – feel THREATENED by some half-gemling and some delayed mistake. the fury that crawls up her throat like magma, seethes passed jagged teeth, is palpable.
but it’s controlled. her prior defeat’s taught her a harsh lesson in underestimating them, and it isn’t happening again. she won’t allow it — and although she doesn’t know what she’s even fighting for anymore, a feckless shadow of her proud, twisted former self – she is tired — ( still remembers the helpless, frantic look on rose’s face before corruption had taken over, made her a beast ), the outwardly offensive move has her tensing, bristling, moving back.
‘ you really want a rematch ?! haven’t you already GLOATED ENOUGH?! ’
they can feel the roiling heat of jasper’s rage from where they stand, and oh yes, it’s terrifying. they can feel her frustration, the feeling of impotence, of being beaten into the dirt no matter how many times she gets up again, and they’re torn — steven’s poor aching heart goes out to the berserker, but amethyst... amethyst takes a sick, sardonic satisfaction in seeing jasper on the receiving end of that feeling for once. smoky is left with no idea what to feel, only the knowledge that if their opponent tries anything, lifts so much as one finger towards the things they care about, the things she’s damaged so often before — they’ll happily knock her down.
that said — jasper talks as if she doesn’t want a rematch. like she’s not here to fight. ( as if, amethyst growls from her corner of smoky’s thoughts. ) she’s even backing away just from the threat of an attack. it’s unusual, but be that as it may, her words still chafe. they scoff, and their third hand stops their yoyo in its whirling orbit. the string is wrapped once, twice, around the palm, and then the yoyo sleeps at their side — dormant, but still primed and ready.
❛ haven’t i... ? oh-ho, ex-cuse me? this coming from the beta kindergarten’s resident gloat-master over here! ❜ the cockiness is vanished from their expression, replaced by a rare moment of seriousness, bitter confusion. ❛ but hey, i’m not sure — you tell me! steven wanted to help you and you spat in his face, and you’ve made amethyst feel like garbage since the day she met you. so, y’know, all things considered? i’d say i’m gloating exactly the right amount. if you’re not here for a rematch, what do you want? ❜
