Pearls Before Swine
Gem can’t even remember when the fight began, just that they are. Just once again it’s her team, holding the line, keeping… keeping someone or something safe, taking on the villains. Saving the day.
She doesn’t feel like a savior.
The soldier in the dirt, the swordsman in the mud, hunter lost in the woods.
The woman in front of her always grinning as they cross blades, again, and again, and again.
Inside and outside and the scenery blurs together as Gem fights, keeps matching each strike with her own, moves as familiar as breathing.
In and out and in and out and duck and parry and in and lunge and dodge and out.
Gem’s done this for years.
Over a decade.
Almost 11 years.
Not yet half her life, but far, far longer than she’s done anything else.
She’s a hero. A fighter.
So she fights.
Sword against scythe, knife against sickle, staff against staff.
Metal ringing and wood clacking. Razor edged because she’s intended to kill her.
A dance that’s only going to end one way.
Gem barely thinks as she fights, attention wholly, solely, on the woman in front of her. White armour cloaked in blood, mask shimmering like a mirage over her face, grin steady and constant. Her limbs know what to do. Every move perfect and exact and trained into her.
She fights like she’s supposed to.
A hero.
A soldier.
A Huntress.
She cuts through the air with her blade, pushing her back, following her, keep attacking, don't let them rest. Every move planned and rehearsed. Block and stab and sidestep and parry and slice and lunge and fight. She breathes and it’s her sword against the woman’s scythe. Gem strikes out in a lunge to backslash and it’s her lungs expanding. Exhale, blunt knives just ghosting past brown hair and tanned skin as she dodges, bending backwards. Scythe circling back and Gem spins, a small misstep Blood Moon catches her in, the parody of a dip, before Gem is centered again, sword and sickle crossed as the woman speaks.
“Remember your footwork, deerest.” She says quiet, lips barely moving as she reminds Gem without the Commission noticing, the mistake covered up.
Moves perfect and exact, they have to be flawless. Faultless. All on her. Gloves designed to grip her sword even soaked in blood.
She’s intended to kill her.
Huntress, catch the prey for our table.
Soldier, do your duty.
Hero, save herthem.
Pollux, you can’t die.
Fight. Stab. Slice. Parry. Dodge, kick, lunge, slice, sweep, feintparrydodgeslashspinbreathe. Muscle memory from long hours in training and sneaking out at night, always pushing themselves better, she’s a hero, knows how to fight, in perfect step, they’re going to be great. Catch the real knife, turn her parry into an attack, dodge the leg, swipe with the sword. She’s intended to kill her.
Gem pulls the knife from her belt as she turns, blocking with her sword, the reverse grip keeping it hidden even as she follows through with the turn, half inside her guard, and Gem flips the knife, light catching on the edge and Blood Moon’s attention flicks towards it, the wrong place, as Gem hooks a leg around hers and pulls. Sending them both to the ground, Gem on top, following her down as her back hits the mat in perfect form even though she’s wounded.
Gem straddles her, hand on her throat, sword in her shoulder, pressing down so she can’t buck, still expecting the fight, she always fights.
“Was it worth it?” She asks bitingly, sneering with blood on her teeth, knowing she’s lost but still trying to hide how she’s scared, upset. Wolf backed against a wall.
“What?” It’s matched by the blood on Gem’s suit and face, too warm and too cool all at the same time. Here’s how you skin your catch.
“Was it worth it?” Pearl asks, looking up at her, head at a curious, confused, tilt. One dark blue eye, one pale, as blood flows down from her spilt toned hair into the asphalt beneath.
And Gem bolts straight up in her bed gasping as her heart and lungs strain against her ribcage.
It’s a lie.
It’s a lie, it’s a lie, it’s a lie, it’s a lie.
The Commission checked the body—bodies, the bodies of the graves that got desecrated.
None of them were touched.
Atropos didn’t raise her.
Pearl’s still buried.
The Commission’s report on the explosion that killed Pearl is off, but Gem’s know that for years. Knows it was because of the undercover work. Some of the shadier parts of the Commission's dealings. Pearl wasn’t supposed to be there, but she was because she’d been investigating the Commission, and she’d been alone, and it was Gem’s fault. If she’d just listened—
Pearl had always been the one with the stronger sense of justice. The better set of morals.
She was a hero. She was.
She was a better hero than Gem and it killed her and Gem has to keep her legacy alive.
Because Pearl’s dead.
They know about her, the villains, and she’s going to kill them for using her like this. Her memory. But Pearl’s dead.
Pearl is dead.
So was the Red King.
