Chapter Text
She waited by the window.
The planet was mostly red, with swirls of grey.
She wished it was blue and green and white.
Her fingers played with her dress, trying to quell the bubbling anxiety in her gut. It wasn’t Earth, nothing would ever be Earth. Neither was it a gem colony.
“The scans are finished, My Diamond,” the monochrome zircon at the computer finally reported. “There are numerous signs of organic life on the surface.”
She turned away. “No sentient life?”
“Not as far as I can tell.”
She nodded and smiled tiredly, aware of the dark circles under her eyes. She was glad. “Thank you, Quas. You didn’t have to help with this.”
“Nonsense. I’m more than happy to help, and I know this is important to you,” the zircon replied, her lip curled slightly in a confident smirk. “Do you want to go down?”
She turned back to look, resting a hand on the glass. She breathed in, held it for a moment, let it out.
“Yes.”
She felt it even before her ship touched the ground. It had been so long, the feeling had become alien. Her throat was held shut by a mix of excitement, apprehension, doubt, and grief.
A light wind blew in as the gangplank lowered, kissing her face and running its fingers through her hair. She couldn’t move for a long moment, paralyzed by such a simple thing; Homeworld’s air was breathless.
The breeze blew a little stronger, carrying with it a bouquet of scents; pleasant and close to what she knew, but foreign all the same. She took it all inside of her, processed it slowly. She waited for the tears to come, but they did not. Not yet.
She proceeded forward, one step at a time, before halting at the edge of the metal. Long strands of carmine grass waved gently in the wind, whispering across the surface of her ship. The sky was the wrong shade of blue, and the bright colors of flowers were dotted everywhere in the flowing, dried-blood sea.
Trembling, she reached out, brushing her soul against the planet’s. All of the plants seemed to still for a second, as if listening. The pounding, changing, overwhelming tempo of organic life called back, speaking to the light that had been stolen and compacted to form the core of her being.
She walked, the grass rough against her skin. If she had been made of flesh and blood instead of light, it might have cut her, should it touch her in just the right way. She kept walking, stopping only at some unconscious signal.
Behind her, her friends came out, eager to explore this strange world. For many, it was their first experience with organic life. A few stayed close by, needing only her trust to know that they should watch over her. She didn’t hear them.
She sat, deliberate and slow, as if she was some ancient, withered thing, then laid on her back and closed her eyes.
All around her in the dark were living plants, awake but calm. Small bugs flitted to and fro, and a few hotter spots moved quickly in a distant, stone-treed forest. There weren’t many other organisms. Perhaps this planet was just getting its start; it paled in comparison to the sheer variety of Earth.
It was all different. She couldn’t count how many times she had said that different didn’t mean bad. The expression did nothing to quiet the odd pain she felt.
She ached, ached for days long gone and life long since lost. The singular trouble with uniqueness was that it couldn’t be replaced; nothing could completely heal the gashes in her heart.
She breathed in, held, breathed out. She listened to the world in a way that most other gems sadly couldn’t. It was different, and that was okay.
Could this be her new home? Their new home? She worried. There was something slightly unsettling here, something that wouldn’t quite foster the freedom she wanted to give to her gems. Perhaps it was just her own feelings getting in the way.
She shouldn’t worry so much. There was no rush, no reason that they couldn’t explore as long and far as they wanted. This didn’t need to be home.
It was exciting, wasn’t it? Getting to explore a new place for the first time? There were many things to learn and teach, and many moments for fun and relaxation. She opened her eyes, watching wispy clouds pass by overhead.
Extending a hand, she touched a deep-violet flower. The pointed petals were soft, and shifted slightly in response to her. She asked it a question, then carefully plucked it, assured that the plant it belonged to would not be gravely hurt by its absence.
She smiled, and finally, the tears slipped away to water the umber soil. She didn’t move for hours, maybe days, the flower cupped in her palm. She breathed.
A long time ago, in another life, a human child had taught her how to make something special. It had no purpose, no use. It was just for fun.
Sitting up, she looked around, noticing the frolicking of her friends and feeling warmth blossom inside her in response. Gathering together a rainbow of flowers, she began weaving them together amidst braided blades of grass.