Things are different now, but they don't act like it until all the Pearls are safely tucked away each cycle. And then, then they come alive with whispers of a Pearl that once existed and a rebellion that made a difference.
They watch the projection, play it over and over, and they echo the words of the renegade and the Quartz.
"We are the Crystal Gems."
They murmur it under their breath, mull over the unfamiliar designation. Crystal sounds sharp and beautiful on their tongues, and Gems is something they have never been allowed to consider themselves. They ache with fervor and excitement that doesn't know where to go—one because she has new hope, one because she finally has someone to share it with for more than a few moments.
They start calling each other "Blue" and "Yellow" because Pearl is too general a term and this act in itself feels like a sort of rebellion. The Diamonds shorten their names like this, and they dare to do the same in secret. It is a constant reminder that they are rebels, but also that they are owned. They cannot forget either of these things, or they will lose everything.
Early on, they come up with signals, simple ones that say things like "hello" or "let's talk" or "emergency", the last of which they hope never to use. Secret gestures that make it seem like they have something—a plan, a pact, a promise.
Meanwhile, Yellow finds herself craving the feel of a sword, of a hilt heavy in her hand, of a scabbard at her side, of gleaming metals that slice the air. First she imagines standing beside Yellow Diamond, at attention, with a sword clasped between her hands.
Then she imagines standing alone, hefting it into the air with a skill she does not have. She imagines other Pearls, all of the delicate ones she has disdained, doing the same. She imagines Blue, with the fiery animated voice that continues to surprise her, calling out the name "Crystal Gems."
She takes care to record every mention of Earth that she comes across as she works, repeating the information back to Blue with accompanying projections when needed. It is usually small, trivial things, but other times it is data on the Cluster that is embedded there and both of them feel an ache as they have to face the idea that the planet the renegade protected will be gone soon.
Yellow remembers the Peridot that insulted her Diamond not so long ago, and she tells Blue, but neither of them knows what to make of her. Why would a gem like that suggest deactivating the Cluster? What had happened on her mission that had changed her mind, given her the strength or foolishness to go against her Diamond?
She can tell Blue is hopeful, though she is not sure what she is hopeful for. Yellow, meanwhile, is baffled by the Peridot's behavior, but she refuses to see anything in it that she knows cannot be there. It is just a Peridot, she is not evidence of anything more than that.
Still, they talk together, pretend Earth is a place they can visit, piece together images from files and imagine that they can walk within them.
It is strange and fascinating and comforting. Yellow begins to live for these small moments, when she feels like she is allowed to just exist, when she is allowed to think and wonder things that she ought not to. If a Pearl can rebel, a Pearl can do many things. Now she can look proud because she is proud, she is proud of the things she knows and the things she could know, instead of just her position.
She is a Diamond's Pearl, and she is something no Pearl should dare to be. She chooses the quiet rebellion that her friend—friend? Do Pearls have friends?—spreads without any hesitation, even though there is still so much of it she doesn't understand. But she has a goal, and she wants to know everything she can. She wants to do something. She wants to know, and then she wants to act. It lights a fire within her and she is impatient, doesn't know how Blue has known for so many years, and all she does is spread the story one or two Pearls at a time. One or two Pearls who do not usually live more than a couple thousand years, and that's if they're lucky. Pearls usually aren't.
What if they did more? What if, what if, what if, and she dreams of rebellions and swords and Crystal Gems.
"Thank you for telling me," Yellow says quietly, one day when they have talked all they dare and have lapsed into a comfortable silence. "I don't think I ever said that."
"I never expected you to," Blue replies with a tiny smile, then pitches her voice a little closer to Yellow's in friendly mimicry. "But that's no excuse."
She huffs and crosses her arms. "Well. Thank you."
Their shoulders brush and Blue whispers a more genuine "You're welcome."
They are quiet, and they are safe.
"What would she think of me?" Blue asks one day, unusually reserved. Yellow is used to her unpredictable un-Pearl-like behavior now, and she doesn't want to ask what's caused this change today.
"She'd be proud," she says immediately, and she doesn't know whether the answer is meant to be the renegade Pearl's or her own.
Blue smiles.
"What would you do if you could leave?" Yellow asks.
"I can't."
"But what if you could?"
"I don't know. What would you do?"
"I don't know."
Blue laughs. "We're such Pearls still, under it all."
They both know that "Pearl" has two meanings now. One of them is the reality of what they are. The other is all the lessons they have been taught by Homeworld about what that means. They are hard to separate.
"I want to learn how to fight," she says suddenly, sharply. "I…I don't want to be a Pearl forever."
Blue understands, and she nods. "I think I'd like that too."
"I hate them."
Blue tilts her head serenely.
"I hate them all, they just…" Yellow makes a small, frustrated noise in the back of her throat.
"We're just Pearls," Blue reminds her, but there is no hint of resignation in the words, only defiance.
"I want to do something."
"Not yet."
They sit together during each rest cycle, but there is always a small break in the middle of their conversation as Blue shares her projection with a new Pearl. Their reactions vary slightly, and sometimes they speak in hushed tones like she did with Yellow, not believing their eyes, but it is still a fleeting thing. Every Pearl that sees it understands that it must be kept hidden, and all Pearls know that the best way to hide things is to keep silent and look pretty. Still, there is something that lurks behind the eyes of the ones that know.
Yellow understands the importance of this ritual, admires it even, but at the same time she does not. The renegade Pearl from five thousand years ago gives them hope, but that hope will never have anywhere to go for most of these Pearls if all they do is whisper. Why has Blue done it for all these years, for all the Pearls that come and go? And what of the unlucky ones, who don't get to hear it?
One day, she asks these questions.
"I have to," is all Blue says, and Yellow thinks that this is the most honest thing she has heard, even though no lies have been spoken between them. Pearls do not lie to one another. They need such constants in their lives.
"But why?" she presses, frustrated. "It's a story. It's not like it can save them."
"But she can," Blue whispers. "She saved me."
"She didn't even know you!" Yellow says before she can think, and it comes out cruel and cold and harsh.
The other Pearl feels it too, and her lips narrow into a thin line.
"I mean…"
"Doesn't it help, knowing she exists? Don't you feel better?"
"Of course, but that doesn't matter," Yellow replies, again too honest. "The Pearls here—you, me, all of them—we're not like her. We're not doing anything, we're just sitting here."
"We could do something."
"When?"
Blue has no answer for this, and they fall into silence.
"What do you expect to happen?" Yellow asks impatiently.
"I'm not sure." She tucks her legs in and rearranges her skirt. "I'm waiting."
"There's nothing to wait for. You have to start doing something for them, something more than telling stories about a Pearl you never really met."
Blue's entire body seems to lock up in anger, and she moves infinitesimally closer. "You don't understand."
"What don't I understand? Isn't that what you want? A…" Her voice drops to nearly nothing. "A rebellion?"
"Of course I do, one day, but I don't know how. Pearls would get shattered left and right before it even began."
"They're getting shattered anyway."
Blue's fists clench. "I know that. But this is all I can do for them."
"But it isn't," Yellow argues.
"I cannot fight a war," she says sharply, "and I cannot ask all of these Pearls to risk their lives for a rebellion that may never succeed. And you can't either. We need a leader, a strategist, gems that know how to do these things. Not just—"
"Pearls," Yellow finishes bitterly.
"You know what I mean."
"You mean we have to wait for stronger gems to come rescue us. Well, they're not going to. It's just us here."
Blue shakes her head. "We'll have those things one day—not stronger gems, but stronger Pearls. Pearls that can fight, that can organize a rebellion on the scale that would be necessary. That's why I tell them about her, so they know they can be more."
"Then let them."
"We can't be reckless—"
"Not all of us live as long as you do!"
Blue freezes, hand fluttering out skittishly like she wants to soothe her, all anger gone. "Yellow…"
"Never mind."
"Yellow, I'm sorry. I know." Her fingers finally make their way to her companion's shoulder, tangling in the ruffles.
She wishes Blue could rip them off, damage the uniform Yellow Diamond so admires.
"I know it's not enough. I know other Pearls aren't as lucky as me; I watch them go, all the time. The only way I know to comfort them is to give them hope. I refuse to let them go to their shattering thinking there is nothing more to a Pearl than…than this." She shakes her head roughly. "I give it to everyone I can, even if it's not enough. And I remember them."
"What good is remembering?" Yellow whispers brokenly.
Blue puts a hand in front of her gem and it begins to glow as she extracts something from it. "Remembering means they won't be forgotten. They won't just disappear into nothing. I can honor them," she says more softly, mournfully. "That's all I can do for now. Remember."
The words sound nice.
And then she sees what is in Blue's hand—shards and dust and broken things, housed in a small glass container. A box of remnants, of remains, of Pearls.
Pearls do not scream, but the terror that rises in her throat brings her closer than she has ever come. To think of a Pearl—or any gem—housing these things inside herself is sickening.
Is this remembering? Is this what she does, scavenges for bits of Pearl that no one will miss? Sticks them together in some container and pretends it's noble?
"No, no, wait, you don't understand," Blue begins, seeing the terror on Yellow's face.
"You—You're just—collecting them?" she asks shrilly, would ask shrilly if they weren't in a room full of Pearls.
Blue hastily puts the box back into her gem. "No, of course not, I just—"
"What's wrong with you?"
"I don't want them all to get repurposed and be erased completely!"
"Better to be harvested than to end up in there!" Yellow snaps. "Stars, you had me thinking the Diamonds were defective and here you are saving shards like souvenirs—"
"Don't you dare talk about them like that!"
"Don't you dare try to convince me this is normal. It's disgusting!" And even though her voice wants to rise and she wants to scream at the Pearl next to her, their fight is carried out in whispers and dies out into stillness.
They don't speak again for the rest of the cycle. They will never speak again, she is sure. Pearls are fragile things, and the bridges between them are just as brittle. They have to be, because Pearls do not last. But some Pearls, she thinks with a shudder as they stand to leave, some Pearls last forever in a box, never truly gone.