A/N: So, as those of you who follow me as a Author might have noticed, when I say "hiatus" I actually mean "churn out a whole slew of oneshots that have nothing to do with UIS." Apparently, that is how CaveDwellers do. Nevertheless, I am now back in business! I'm about a day ahead of myself with Unit 6, and if that decides to give me guff (though it shouldn't, because I have an outline) I have two non-Unit-6 oneshots that I can slip into the queue, just in case. I am prepared!
In other news, I've just seen the stats on this story. Meep. . New chapters are sent in 232 different people, and this story happily occupies space on 217 favorite lists. No pressure though, right? XD No, but seriously: Thank you all, so much, for this support. I truly do appreciate it. Thanks so much for reading all 60-whatever chapters of this mega-monster fic-that in itself is such an admirable feat. There's nearly 100,000 words in this thing. You are all rock stars. I mean it. Thank you.
In other, other news, Tourmaline seems to have transformed into a tribute to all things Addams family and/or Elvira. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm kind of not.
It's not as if Sapphire hasn't noticed their friends' oddly sluggish demeanors. She actually Saw it coming an hour or so ago, though she can't for the life of her explain why they're like this. Even Citrine, usually so lively, is slumped over the top of what is normally the chess table, her orange head pillowed on her bared arms. The entire recreation center is subdued today, all gems moving as if through thick paste. It isn't the sort of lackluster behavior that indicates dejection or grief or fear; they're all just… tired.
Sapphire's never seen gems behave this way before.
So it isn't that she hasn't noticed; it's more that she doesn't know how to phrase her observation, or if it's something she should be bringing attention to at all.
Ruby, being Ruby, marches right up and pokes at Apatite's shoulder, which is hunched up from how she's curled up her arms and buried her face in them. The navy blue gem doesn't even lift her head, and that's when Sapphire realizes she's fast asleep.
"The cohort switched jobs today?" Ruby sounds disbelieving. "But it's only been—wait. It has already been 500 years, hasn't it?"
"It's brutal. We went from the assembly lines to the forge," Citrine groans. Her head lolls on her arms as she puts forth the minimum amount of effort to interact with the red gem. "Only you would have been happy about it."
"We have to change into uniforms that won't catch fire," Tourmaline complains, though with notably less diction than usual. She's managed to secure the entirety one of the nearby benches. With the way she is sprawled out in it, it almost looks comfortable. There again, Tourmaline has a way of making all of her body language appear enviably comfortable. It probably has something to do with her form's luxurious curves. Sapphire would never have the confidence for a form like that. "My mermaid dresses don't can't fire, they're skin tight—Sapphire's poofy dress, sure, that's a fire hazard, but my outfit isn't going to catch fire unless I decide to stick all or part of myself into the hearth, and why the hell would I do that? Leave my choice of non-poofy clothing alone!"
Apatite, utterly impervious to the entire conversation, lets out a soft snore.
"What are you making in the forge?" asks Sapphire.
"The parts for the assembly line, obviously," is Citrine's response. Being worn out has made her quite snippy, it seems
"Mostly injector odds and ends," Tourmaline translates. "Which parts you're making, specifically, depends on which fire you're stationed at."
"You're right," Ruby realizes. "I probably would have liked this rotation. How big are the hammers?"
"About the size of your head, in some cases," Tourmaline replies without irony. She maps out the approximate size for emphasis. "But the Supervisors keep you chained up and isolated if you're on one of those, so you can't get any funny ideas."
"Why did your tasks change?" It's probably obvious, but Sapphire honestly hasn't heard of any Containment Unit switching up a labor force's tasks. Why make them change jobs after they've spent the last half millennia perfecting their trade?
"Change of pace." Citrine rolls her head to the other side, presumably so she can look at Sapphire a little better. Sapphire can't see how Citrine can focus on anyone from the angle she's at, though. "Some rotations are worse than others, so every 500 years cohorts switch out so no one is stuck doing the worst jobs for eternity."
"It wasn't always like that," Tourmaline adds with a somewhat nostalgic expression. Sapphire anticipates something dark the instant before she hears, "But then the inmates on the worst jobs got fed up and a lot of them refused to come out of their gems, and of course we can't lose valuable inmate productivity."
"Of course."
"It's been on a rotation ever since."
Citrine lets out a hard sigh, and then groans from the effort just that requires. She allows her head to roll between her outstretched elbows, and she complains in a slightly muffled voice, "I can't remember the last time I was this sore."
"I can," says Tourmaline. "It was 500 years and one day ago." She groans and throws her arm over her pink eyes theatrically. As she leans back to add emphasis to this posture, her frizzy green hair shifts out of the way to reveal the watermelon tourmaline gem set into the skin just below her left ear like an earring. "Oh, I miss the assembly lines already!"
"Hear, hear." Citrine briefly raises a loosely constructed fist in agreement. She does not lift her head.
"Did they have you on hammers, T?" Ruby says it, but it doesn't really sound like a question.
"Of course they do!" Tourmaline huffs. "Just because I'm almost symmetrical doesn't mean you need to assign the literal heavy lifting to me all the time! This happened on the assembly line, too—you were there, Ruby, you remember."
Sapphire blinks, but maintains a stoic expression. It's very hard to feel sympathy for someone who is trying to sound indignant through their thinly veiled bragging.
"Isn't a hammer your weapon anyway?" says Sapphire. Next to her, Ruby snorts and starts to snicker. "And don't you pride yourself on how tall and heavy it is?"
"That's not the point!" exclaims Tourmaline as Ruby's snickering bursts into full-out laughter. Suddenly, the curvy gem sits up fully, and rounds on Ruby. "Hey, would you stop that? I have been overworked today, and I deserve sympathy!"
"Tourmaline, stop shouting!" another one of the inmates hollers.
There is some grumble of agreement, as well as a fairly vocal mutter of, "I really can't take any more of this today—where's my sympathy?"
"I don't know whether to be empathetic or happy for her," is Citrine's contribution to the conversation, although her head is still cradled in her arms. "It's a pretty disorienting way to feel, and it probably has contributed to my exhaustion."
To say that Tourmaline's affronted gasp is theatrical would be an understatement, and even Sapphire can't help giggling about it into Ruby's shoulder.
Ruby says, "In other words, you love your new job."
"I don't like the mandatory uniforms. I should be able to hammer upon hot metal in whichever clothing I choose," Tourmaline sniffs.
"Aside from the uniforms, then," Sapphire says.
"Aside from the uniforms, I'm still sore and not used to the physical demands of the job, and it's a lot harder to gossip now than it was on the assembly lines, but I think I'll adjust."
"Spoken like a true martyr, Tourmaline. I commend you," Ruby says with a mock-solemn nod.
"Please don't encourage her," says Citrine's muffled voice. "At least not until I can get through a day in the forge without wanting to collapse."
Sapphire doesn't say so aloud because she knows that doing it won't get her anywhere, but she has to wonder just what do those two things have to do with each other, anyway. Even utterly exhausted, Citrine is still as strange as ever. She supposes that's reassuring, in a way.
Both Ruby and Tourmaline open their mouths to reply to this, teasing and frowning respectively, but that's when Apatite lets out an obscenely loud snore and buries her face deeper into her arms. She's not faking it, the timing is just… strangely perfect.
Even Citrine has to laugh about that.