Matte Olivine Pearl
Being a communal pearl is always a precarious position. Doubly so when the community you're assigned to is a squadron of Quartzes.
Her duties are the ordinary pearl duties. Keep things clean. Hold items. Fetch items. Flutter eyelashes. Take calls. Hold messages. Call out for maintenance staff whenever something breaks. (Which, around Quartzes, is often).
It's not always so bad, Pearl thinks. She performs well, and takes pride in that performance. Regular duties are no trouble for her.
The trouble is the Quartzes.
Oh, yes. Brave, strong warriors. Very fine. Very important. And it is quite a sight to see them sparring, granted.
But personally, Pearl prefers not to see them at all. The arena is much more peaceful when they're off clearing away nuisance organics on far off planets.
It gets a lot louder when once they return. And messier.
There's a grace period, though. The Quartzes are practically euphoric whenever they return, buoyed up by their success, filled with war stories and tales of their victories. Pearl must admit to rather enjoying their accounts of far-off planets: places with strange atmospheres and geographies, of odd flora and fauna. It must be exciting, visiting new colonies, being part of the effort to build and shape them.
Then the Cycles wear on, and the exuberance wears off. The stories run dry. An restlessness creeps in.
Quartzes are soldiers, and soldiers don't cope well with boredom.
Pearl is an easy source of entertainment.
They do small, petty things. Ask her to fetch weapons they left on the other side of the arena, then act confused when she brings it to them. Drop something, then immediately make her pick it up, then the moment she hands it to them, dropping it again. Hoot and holler when she passes. Jump at her from around corners, then laugh at her fear and surprise. Thrust weapons into her hands, then ask her to spar, taking pleasure in effortlessly pushing her around and disarming her.
Pearl was created to serve. The Quartzes are her Masters, and it is her duty to serve them in whichever way the require or desire. If entertainment is what they need, then she must give it to them. But it grates on her, nonetheless. The way they treat her like nothing but a plaything, the way they assume that there's nothing else she'd prefer to be doing.
And it's scary, too. To be something so small and weak, surrounded by such strength, knowing they could crush her instantly.
Not all of the Quartzes are like that. Some of them are quite nice. There's an Aventurine who always goes to her to have her weapons sharpened, because she claims Pearl does it better than anyone else. A Ribbon Jasper who gives her a genuine smile every time they pass by each other. A Blue Quartz who tells her 'good work' whenever Pearl finishes cleaning a particularly large mess. They, and others, sometimes try to tell the rest of the Quartzes to lay off her; sometimes it even works.
Little pleasures like that, little reliefs, are some of the only things she has to enjoy, in those times.
It's been over a dozen Cycles since their last assignment, but the Quartzes haven't had much of a chance to tease her lately. They're busy preparing. Not for battle, or an assignment, but for a demonstration. An upcoming visit from a Painite. Not a Diamond, but she might as well be, from the way everyone is fluttering. One of the rarest Gems in existence, part of Yellow Diamond's inner circle, commander of all of Homeworld's armies. She will be watching them compete in a tournament to determine the greatest fighters from their entire squadron. The accolades and prestige to be won is incalculable. The training is continuous.
Finally, the Painite arrives. Her entire delegation fills the stands of the arena. Painite herself takes a seat at the Head Box, two of her own pearls standing at her side. Pearl has a perfect view of her from her own position. Painite holds her head high, looking down on everyone below.
The tournament begins.
Two Quartzes— a Sard and a Citrine— enter the ring. They walk in uneasy circles, weighing each other, looking for an opening. They find it. Suddenly they charge, and throw everything they have at each other. They are a blur, a fury of screams, of pounding feet and grinding rock. It's extraordinary and it's terrifying.
Finally, there's a loud pop, and a cloud of smoke. The Sard is left standing there, the Citrine's yellow gem in her hand.
The Sard moves onto the next round. And the competition continues.
The conditions are not ideal. Meteorologists had predicted calm, clear skies, but there's an unexpected cloud cover has come in. Sometimes the fog is so thick that no one, not even Painite, can see the battles raging below. In those times, it seems like pure luck that the contestants manage to hit each other at all.
Other times, the view is perfectly clear. It always seems to be when a certain Aventurine, Ribbon Jasper, and Blue Quartz are up to compete.
The tournament continues on, poor weather or no. One by one, Gems are eliminated. Finally, the last round is reached. Of the Quartzes Pearl cares for, only Aventurine remains. She's up against a Chryophase— a nasty piece of work. Pure muscle and vengeance and—
— and, well, it's not Pearl's place to say. But cruelty.
She has lost count of the times this Chryophase's jeers and laughter had been the loudest of her tormentors'.
The clash. Aventurine has a mace, Chryophase a club. They're exhausted from the endless preceding battles. No energy left for strategy, for clever thinking, for tactics. This is pure brawn.
All it will take is one mistake.
Pearls don't have much in the way of powers. They have a few, meant entirely for improving their functionality as servants. They're fast, to complete their duties quicker. Their stamina is excellent. They have excellent memories. They're good at storing items in their Gems. They can project holograms.
This particular pearl has always had something of a talent for particle manipulation. It's useful for cleaning. With a sweep of her hand, she can gather an entire arena's worth of dust into a single corner.
(She can also call a thick fog cover for those times when she truly doesn't wish to be bothered, but that's neither here nor there.)
There's been almost fifty full battles since the tournament began. The arena itself has taken a lot of punishment from them all. Pillars have been broken, huge chunks of rocks have been ripped away, statues are laying beheaded and dismembered. There is dust everywhere.
Chryophase seems to be gaining the upper hand. She's got momentum. At some point, she lost her club, but she hardly needs them. She's bearing down on Aventurine, punch after punch after punch hitting her squarely in the jaw.
From her own position near the back of the stands, Pearl focuses. Her eyes narrow.
Aventurine's fallen. Cryophase is above her, holding a huge chunk of marble above her enemy's head.
Pearl's fingers twitch. The dust beneath Cryophase's feet shift. She looses her balance, suddenly. Not enough for her to fall, but enough for her grip to slip, enough for her to hesitate, enough for Aventurine to get out of the way, enough for her to climb to her feet.
The fight is back on. Pearl watches, waiting for the perfect moment.
The two Quartzes are circling each other again, unblinking.
Pearl flicks her hand.
A billow of wind strikes up. Dust hits Chryophase right in the eye. She blinks, moves to wipe it away.
She's not fast enough. Aventurine strikes. Her club hits the other quartz right in the head. Chryophase's form dissipates instantly.
A roar goes up from the crowd. Painite stands. Nods at the victor.
Nobody notices Pearl.
It's small. It's petty. But it's something.
oOoOoOo
Author's Note: So, remember that time Pearl animated the sand, or how she can call cloud cover during training simulations...?
(PS. My nickname for this Pearl is "Dust Mage").