#rough gem

[geologyin-blog]

Natural rough labradorite gems.

📹: Caroline_crystalhealing

[gemville]

Examples Of Rough Russian Alexandrite

Photo Courtesy: Alexey Buklakov

Source: jewelryconnoisseur.net

[whatoccurs]

Visit Original Link

[motionoftruth]

(via Raw Amethyst Crystal Pendant with Cast Twig 925 Oxidized | Etsy)

by MirielDesign

[gemville]

Burmese Tourmaline

[inhumanresourcesmkg]

same as ever, despite it all || aileen mcintosh ft. KAT

Life works in predictable patterns. There is logic behind every illogical thing that happens. It may sound like a complete paradox, but it’s true. There is no true randomness in the world; things happen, and people react to them, and the world reacts back.

That is, at least, how Rough Gem has always seen things. A leads to B, which leads to C and D, perhaps E should things really pick up. It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s practical. You may not be able to predict the future, but you can predict the outcomes, and that’s enough. Of course, sometimes, the least likely possibility ends up coming to pass. Your father dies. Your husband, too. These things are tragedies, but they’re hardly unprecedented.

This was, naturally, all uprooted the instant that she found herself in an office building where her manager told her to kill someone. It only went downhill from there.

Now, she lives in a world that she knows God is real and made clown-animals that are actually angels, and wishing stars are real, and people can be dead but not really, and it’s all really very confusing and quite a lot to take in, and she has decided that she will simply not care enough to think too deeply about it because, well…

What has changed, really?

The world worked like this before. It has always functioned like this. She just didn’t know it. This is still the same world. A will lead to B, which leads to C and D, perhaps even E.

God just might be a horse while it happens.

It doesn’t have much bearing on her reality.

What does have a bearing on her reality are the two beings attempting to kill her after she just spent several months attempting to stay alive during a literal killing game that they were running, and she really is quite tired of it at this point. The only thing they can do is wish for joy, is that right? That’s the solution?

She can understand the appeal of wishes. Who wouldn’t? Something magically coming true? There are hundreds of thousands of thousands of things that she could wish for. But does she truly want them? There is, after all, a difference between wishing and wanting–a nuance to be considered.

Some days, she would wish that she had just one last chance to say something to Dennis. She wishes she would have noticed his absence from the cafeteria. She wishes he would have called her. She wishes she would have called him. She wishes she could have run into him on his way out of the building. She wishes she could tell him just how much she loved him, just how much she truly could not care less if things grew financially difficult for them because having him around was better than any sort of stability.

Aileen McIntosh does not wish for that right now.

The dead are dead. This is something she has always said in this place. The dead are dead, and they cannot return. She will smile and be joyful for anyone here who finds solace in just one more moment with their lost loved ones, but she will not be among their number. She knows he understands. They have always understood each other.

Their story is done. He wrote the ending. She will mourn and find sorrow in it for the rest of her life, but she will not return to him now. No, now, instead, she finds herself surrounded by people in the moment that still have stories to tell.

A quick glance over to one of them reassures her of the fact that there is a time and a place for everything, and they will find time later for whatever words they may have for each other. Neither of them are public people; words can be exchanged when it’s just the two of them.

As for the others, she can see they have themselves well in hand. Every person here has always had their own strength, their own unbending will. She will not stand here and presume that they need guidance or support in these moments–her role as a steady voice is over. Now, she sees plenty of room for screaming and proclamations and vows of violence, whatever might bring them joy. That’s the point of this whole venture, isn’t it?

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots two figures she has kept her attention on this entire time, and one of them falls to his knees. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? Even for one of the strongest people she has ever met. But, as always when it comes to these two, she moves without thinking, without hesitation. She kneels beside Keith, shifting him so his arm slings over her shoulder, and she looks at him.

“Keith, now isn’t the time to rest. We can take as much time as we need after all of this has been settled and done, but right now, we have to focus.”

Others may have more traditional words of comfort, but bluntness and direction has always been her approach to soothing tensions. Her comfort comes in the form of paths forward, of promises to stay steady by his side however long he should want her there. Besides, the other figure on Keith’s side fills the gaps that she leaves–still just as goal-oriented, A to B to C, but complimentary to her own directives.

Keith Achilles and Tegan Rue are, without question, the reason why Aileen finds herself capable of standing here today. They have been here since the beginning. When she felt no desire to grow closer to any colleagues here–proven time and time again to be a poor idea that never ends well for anyone involved–they managed to convince her to try just one more time. And, against all odds, each time a tragedy could have befallen their little team, it did not.

They are all here. They have not quit. They have not retired. They have not transferred. They have not been promoted. They have not “stopped showing up.” They have remained at her side for the entirety of their stay here at Firmament.

Perhaps she would wish for the opportunity to stay with them even outside of this place if she was not so absolutely certain that there was no need for that. They would be here regardless.

No, as Keith gives them all one last rousing speech, one last bright burst of light that always manages to astound Aileen that one person can hold so much of it inside of them, she knows what she will wish for.

Every future vision she sees for herself? She would much rather make it with her own two hands. But here, in this moment, with something standing by her that feels so familiar in its unfamiliarity, she does not have the luxury of time. 

At her side, a large piece of equipment forms. It looks something like a cross between a gun and a cannon while simultaneously being dropped right out of any stereotypical sci-fi property. As it thunks onto the ground, she nods in satisfaction, hefting it onto her shoulder as she kneels down on the ground to line up a shot.

It’s simple, really. It’s just a matter of math, of angles, of velocity. And she feels more certain than ever that she can make this land.

In front of her looms two figures that could represent everything rotten in the corporate system. And what would bring her the most joy?

I wish that no wrongful death claim is ever denied ever again.

Because seeing companies squirm? Seeing them have to admit that people were people? That people were more than the numbers on their pages and ledgers? That would bring her more joy than she could possibly express. No one will suffer the way she and others here have. Not anymore. In the moments after a tragedy when all is lost and everything has broken, she can at least rest easy knowing that no one will experience the second wave of grief that she did.

Each family from now on will be given what they are owed. There won’t be any dodging of responsibility anymore. 

With this settling her racing heart, she sits here on the ground in a rather undignified heap with the first people in years and years she has ever dared to call her friends, and she, for the first time in months, breathes.

[inhumanresourcesmkg]

good will must be earned || rough gem || mm.4 || re: i stand with my cancelled fio

It’s tragic.

All death is. It will never not be something to be mourned in some capacity. Card Sharp was a complicated person. She took with her words and feelings and sentiments and plans and machinations that everyone in this room may not ever be fully privy to. They were answers that she wanted, that she felt those with wings and halos deserved to know. Even those whose hearts still yet beat in this place deserved to know what they’d almost died for.

What they still might die for, should so many of them continue their vow of silence, their acts of rebellion.

She has always said that they need to take whatever power they have in this place and use it, but alongside those convictions, she has also always said that they need to do so safely. She will not suffer further loss.

Card Sharp had a plan. She had plans that she took with her. This may very well be part of it, this silence, this hope for them to take a risk and have it pay off.

Her eyes flit between a few figures at the table. 

She’d said it before: she never volunteered to put her neck on the line for the greater good.

Rough Gem certainly never agreed to offer up the necks of those she’s grown to care for either. No, she’s quite tired of losing people, thank you very much.

People retire. People get fired. People get transferred. People quit. People simply “stop showing up.”

She will not be someone who simply “stops showing up.”

Her eyes turn to Arrowhead, and she frowns.

“Let’s not be ridiculous. The novarii sees itself as some kind and altruistic being, helping Card Sharp out. Seriously? Fio? If you’re going to pick a distraction…Actually, about that--”

She frowns--perhaps almost scowls, a first for her--and her finger begins to tap against her arm.

“--The novarii will have my loyalty when they prove they’re willing to help us in the same way you’re all willing to help them. To me, you’re all showing far too much kindness towards an individual who has not shown a single, tangible moment of remorse for what they’ve done. What, they cried over notes written after your deaths?”

Rough Gem pinches the bridge of her nose, pushing her glasses up.

“If they truly felt so horrible, they would have done something about it. Do not forget that they were and are complicit in a plot to have us all killed. I don’t care if there was some plan to press a magical ‘undo’ button or whatever deus ex machina they may propose to have had--I did not volunteer to experience death and tragedy the likes of which we have seen here.”

Her jaw clenches.

“I will not be one of you who sits here and waits and hopes that their good nature wins out and they fly in to rescue us. If they want to save themself, they can save us alongside them. So be it.”

Her eyes turn to bore directly into Cloud Nine’s.

“Are you honestly, truly telling me that you did not question for a second that Card Sharp of all people either knew how to apply clown makeup and came over ahead of time with it preapplied and ready to go? For when you both headed to the party? Or did you apply another layer of clown makeup on top of her normal makeup and just…not notice you were putting makeup on makeup?

Genuinely. Explain the clown costumes to me. I’d love to hear it.”

Some might see this as bootlicking. Some might see it as bowing down and complying. They’re welcome to. However, she will not--not even for a moment--regret choosing to throw to the very literal lion someone who has done nothing to prove any intent to protect them. If the novarii will not keep those dear to her safe, then she will.

[inhumanresourcesmkg]

just because you can || rough gem || mm.3 || re: clown sharp

There it is, then.

The answers they’ve all been searching for all of this time are laid bare in front of them, and…it’s so mind boggling--clowns and God and angels, no, Baalatro and misery and horses and chicken managers and a woman standing before them, removing one coat of paint to reveal another--that it…

Well, it loops back around to the same tired exhaustion that consumed her by the end of the last trial.

What is she to do about all of this?

What could she have done about all of this?

Card Sharp--Sunday--says that this is simply the way of the world, that this was all inevitable, that they or some other random group of sorry suckers were destined to become the next flesh ground between the mechanisms of this bloodied calliope. Firmament consumes, the Baalatro feed, and humans are also there. Just there. 

It’s all so…familiar.

Does it make any difference if the uncaring eyes staring down from the C-Suite have cheery makeup applied around them or shadowed wings sprouting from their backs? It’s all just the same. The minions in the lower ranks are just numbers. They’re just profit margins. They’re just assets. She and the people she cares about and even the people she could take or leave when they’re in that stupid conference room? They’re just assets.

It’s comfortable.

“I thought fantastical things like this were meant to be impressive. I suppose corporate monotony and apathy is the same whether you’re in Dell or Headquarter City.”

She says with a sigh, picking at a pill of fabric on her sleeve. There is none of the usual attention she would give to a member of their group during a discussion. Sunday has not earned that from her. If nothing else, her time here has taught her that your respect is allowed to be withheld, even to those in charge.

“Why a killing game specifically? It seems wasteful. You can have hundreds upon hundreds of employees and implement ways to keep a baseline level of misery at some perfect level. You’ll never reach the peak of misery a murder would cause, maybe, but I’d think that the sheer number of people producing misery would make up for it.”

Her fingers pause in their work.

“So, did you grow tired of being the manatee that you decided to turn to making others the thing in the tank instead? Your misery isn’t the manatee’s fault, you know. You don’t have to bring it to the fiftieth floor just to prove you can.”

You don’t have to grind us up just to show you could.