Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something True
The @hundredsofpearls-zine is out so it’s time to share the complete fic I wrote for it!
As Era 3 rolls on, two pairs of Pearls find themselves finding their way on Earth. They also find themselves with a bit of unusual homework assigned during the first lecture of Little Homeworld’s Pearl School, Which Is For Pearls. Includes such themes as picking names, breaking rules, dealing with inevitable Homeworld baggage, fun beach times, and generally, as I’ve seen in a beautiful, beautiful AO3 tag by @pearldefiance, “Pearls embracing their own interests & identities (and each other)”. ~3000 words.
The fic features Pearl OCs Wine and Blush created by @huecy and Sandy and Lavender by @outerspace-iiinnerspace. Huecy was my art partner for the zine and drew a lovely illustration for the fic which can be found here. Enjoy!
Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something True
There is no scrambling for purchase, or a trace of fumbling as the stack of holopads is thrust at her. No, she’s a well-made pearl, and well-practiced in this. The pads are surprisingly cool to the touch, smooth, perfect, and new, and they stay perfectly balanced, screen-up, in her hold.
“Deliver to Iolite Facet 2 Cut 4B2.”
Ah, no new corner of Homeworld to be discovered this time - just the well-trod path up to the laboratories. She knows these hallways and these walls. Waves a small, quick greeting to one, in passing - a frequent conversation partner with a fascinatingly textured relief decorating her front.
It is her twenty third errand that cycle. The Iolite will probably have her wait until she drafts a reply and send her right back, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll be sent off to collect sample lists from one of the new research stations. She’s yet to see them.
She’d like that, she thinks.
Sandy it says on her name tag, in blue ink over grooves where she first pressed in with a sharp pencil. Smudged some, from where she ran her fingers over it just a bit too soon in her eagerness, as always, to touch.
When she leaves her little bowl alone and lets the liquid settle, an odd sediment gathers, and when she swirls it around, this way, then that–
Fascinating. Soothing, maybe. And the miniature spheres it’s made from - grapes. The humans showed her, laughed when she took one of the little things between her fingers and popped it, making a mess.
One thing turning into another. Strange processes that her Lavender had known the explanation and the chemical formulae for somehow, and had offered it all gladly, because Sandy knew better than to ask.
Her other hand she runs through the little wisps of pale hair on Lavender’s neck, soothing and soft. One of her favourite sensations - the other, not having to hide. Not having to steal moments and wait and wonder, endlessly: will I ever see you again?
She lets go of the little wine bowl, setting it down next to the water cup and the mug of coffee and the odd conical container she’s forgotten the name of, bearing marks of melted ‘ice cream’ (not a very good container, honestly). Instead, she idly plays with the bits of gravel on the path she’s sitting on, and observes the gathering crowd.
So many Pearls here - most of them eager, all of them excited, aflutter in ways ranging from what only a fellow Pearl could recognise (tiny flickers of movement, fingers tangling in a dance) to loud, open displays. Most of them nervous, too.
And all of them very, very early.
Her grasp of Earth time is still somewhat tenuous, but she knows enough to tell that there’s quite a while to go until the scheduled start of class. The sun needs to be far lower in the sky, for one.
But the warp pad nearby activates all of a sudden, and, ah– their instructor for the day, the infamous Renegade Pearl, is early as well. Of course she’d know to be– she’s just as much a Pearl as all of them. Sandy smiles at the odd thought, and moves to get up and gather her things.
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