Morganite,

The gathering went well. As I told you before, I was waiting in the library for someone to come get me, and when its large doors finally opened, the light had nearly faded completely. I was about to turn the auxiliary lights on when another Pearl poked her head in and waved me over.

I've seen most of Blue Diamond's house Pearls by now, and I had seen this one too. With her gem a little too high toward her collarbone, she wasn't quite the right color, but still resembled Blue Diamond's personal Pearl. When I followed her out, the rest of the chambers were so dark we had to put our lights on. Shining as dimly as possible, we made our way to the salon.

I had a brief look at this room when I went to the market. During the day, the comically large furniture casts shadows over the Pearls beneath it, sitting in an unused state. Blue Diamond's chair, as well as her ottoman, are as untouched as the books in her library. The same goes for her fire place, and the couch against the eastern wall.

Coming into that room at night, the towering shapes had warped. In the day, you can see the entire piece; at night, you can only make out lumbering shadows. I shined light upon them, and uncovered parts of their images, the leg of a chair, or a single brick of the fireplace, looking upon the limb of a monster I wasn't meant to see.

The Pearl led me toward the ottoman, whose thick fringe emanated an ornate carpet—a gold whose rays of escaping light hardly surprised me. They would have glowed that way despite the Pearls hiding behind it, but the tiny chatter gave them away.

We entered by pushing the fringe aside, and I found about fifteen blue Pearls, holding mismatched cups, gaping at my audacity for existing. At least one of them had thought to invite me, but maybe they were shocked I had arrived.

They better not believe I actually enjoy this dusty library.

Before I could wonder if coming was a mistake, one of them stepped forward to welcome me. She offered tea in a chipped crème cup and I walked further into the party-box ottoman. The talking continued in groups, whose members still turned to me on my way inside.

I'm not sure where they took their cups from. It seemed that each held a different one, from a different period, from different rooms. The refreshments in the center of it reflected the same trend—a collection of multicolored teapots.

One caught my eye as I stood against the fringe. It was a bronze color, but nearly golden and dented enough that I wondered if someone had used it to beat their lady to death. Shining to the point of obnoxiousness, it had been polished several times, perhaps to clean the blood.

I sipped my tea and contemplated the viability of beating someone to death with a kettle, as a shadow approached. She slid out of the darkness to take a spot next to me—the lightest thing about her the violently white cup in her hands.

She could have arrived through the fringe behind me, having only seen her when she suddenly appeared. Had I placed so much attention on that damn kettle?

This library is causing me to lose my sanity.

In a little voice, she said, "Hey."

"Hey." We stood perfectly in place for the incoming silence.

Then she asked about you. "How was serving Lady Morganite?"

"I can't really remember."

"Oh." Somehow, her dark blue cheeks turned darker. "I'm sorry."

"I mean, you didn't erase my memories. Why do you ask anyway?"

"Oh, we ran into each other one day. I was on an errand and I gave you a note from Blue Diamond's Pearl."

"You're Blue Diamond's Pearl too."

She blushed again, gripping her cup a little harder. "I'm practically off-color. The other Pearls make fun of me for how dark I am."

"That's rude," I sipped my tea. "Well, we can be off-color together. I'm not even close to blue."

"You shouldn't say that." She seemed upset. "You were Pink Diamond's Personal Pearl."

"Well—" I put my hand on her shoulder, looking at where I imagined her eyes to be under her dark mop of hair. "I'm no one now," and before she could be upset about that too, I asked her, "What part of the chambers do you work in?"

"Oh—" she may have spilled her drink. "I tend to the maintenance room."

"The maintenance room? But who goes in there enough where it would need cleaning?"

"No one, really, but it does get dusty sometimes."

"Do you stay there all day?"

I asked her a lot of questions, and she did the same. She wondered what it was like to serve a Diamond—to be so close and even speak to one directly. It was cute to watch her reactions as I recounted my memories, which still hurt to talk about. But seeing her listen so intently and whisper small 'wow's made me feel something nostalgic. I miss that feeling of loving your Diamond, or even The Diamonds. She took me back to a time when I wasn't so fucking jaded.

I told her if she ever feels daring enough to visit, she should come to the library. She told me she doesn't know how to read, and I said I would read to her, if that's what she wants. I don't think it occurred to her that I want to see her.

I hope she stops by.