(no subject)

[herconfidante]

A Diamond's eyes feel different. Tangible and sharp, pressing into the back of her neck like a pair of metal prongs. It snaps her muscles straight like a wire, even her hackles bolting upright. 

943-D's time in the Farm has proven she's most efficient when watched -- the single lunar cycle she's spent aboard Rose Diamond's ship has dismantled that theory into a heap of cogs and corkscrews. The sheer intensity of that gaze on her sends her mind into a state of hyper-awareness that her body fails to match -- gangly legs tangling together, restless hands finding life of their own. And each time anew it brings with it an icy prickle of panic, stop it stop it, before she throws you away.

But then, the strangest thing-- the strangest thing is turning around. 943-D does not meet Her Majesty's eyes, of course, unless she is ordered to, but sometimes she catches just the tiniest fleeting glimpse (on accident, only on accident) and the warmth she sees there seeps into her very bones.

She does not understand it at all.

A Diamond's hands feel different, too. Strong enough to snap her form in half between two fingers, she's sure -- and yet Rose Diamond's touch is almost impossibly gentle, fingers buzzing-glowing at her wrist or waist or elbow, leaving around them an invisible aurora. 943-D does not feel worthy, but voicing those thoughts would be casting doubt upon Her Majesty's decisions, and so she bites them down. Her reasoning is wholly opaque to her, but then, that only makes sense; she is a mere pearl. They do not remotely operate on the same level.

Rose Diamond is a being far, far beyond anything her simple mind could hope to grasp.

But if there's one thing she's perfectly geared for, it's planning; calculating and organizing and sorting information into neat little boxes in her head, to be retrieved at a moment's notice when necessary. That is the purpose she is meant to serve, and even ungainly and out of place as she is, she can fulfill it.

Even if those eyes and hands on her are enough to make her forget how to speak, sometimes.

"... and once the ship has crossed through NGC 2419, it shall arrive at its destination within 6.8 solar cycles, the shortest and safest course according to calculation," 943-D concludes, the static in her stare dissipating as she disconnects from the deck's main screen. The map flickers into black, but she does not move from her position, nor turn around to face Rose Diamond (prongs digging into flesh).

"How else may I be of service?"

Comments

[likestoplay]

It’s understandable, the sloppiness. She shouldn’t be too hard on herself. Beyond plucking up a condemned gem last cycle, and eschewing the bureaucratic niceties to clear her trip to the Zircon Cluster a few turns past, Rose has been far too agreeable. Just! Sloppy! Her sisters have already gotten the wrong idea. They almost sounded expectant when they set the time and coordinates for the next quarterly council, as though Rose would be there as a matter of nature. White even had the bald gall to arrange an earlier meeting between the two of them -- for policy-combing, or to manicure a mandate, or some equally vapid scrap of time and energy.

So: Rose will be late.

She listens to her newest shipmember explain their trajectory back to Homeworld with a half-open ear. It’s oddly soothing. It’s soothing, watching her work. Rose had drifted into the bridge earlier with a fine bite of rancor on her mind, but it’s taken so little time to feel herself relax again. Here: watching Pearl. And she’d like to relax a little more.

Rose takes a step or two closer -- gently. Not too loud! Nice and light. But not too sneaky, either. Might sound like Pearl isn't meant to notice. Too steep a leap in proximity -- or one made too quickly, at least -- is enough to put her little pearl into gridlock. Which in all frankness is rather fun to watch, but counterproductive on the whole: the poor thing can work herself up to the verge of passing out. Besides, Pearl’s physical trust isn't quite what Rose wants to wheedle her way into.

Well. Not the physical alone.

Rose prefers the other times. The lucky ratios. Just enough pressure, with just the right timing, and a neatly zippered alignment of circumstance. Those are lovely. She will still flinch under Rose's touch (palm on shoulder, thumb on wrist, crib of fingers cradling her elbow) -- still trembles. But she will move into it, too. Just slightly. Just enough. Rose can catch a careless moment of Pearl’s whirlaway eyes, then. Can catch a frail echo of want.

Maybe Rose can coax it from hiding. Maybe she can join it, there.

But that’s getting ahead of things. The pause before answering has stretched a bit too much to count as ‘thoughtful.’ (Not that she can’t play it off that way.)

“Kindly bring up our trajectory again, if you would,” she begins, “and set us for an alternate route. One… mm… four cycles longer, I think.” She takes another step forward, fingers laced behind her back. Still a perfectly professional distance, but much closer than what’s seemly for a Diamond.

Most Diamonds, she reminds herself. Most.

(She can’t yet reach out to touch the back of her chair.)

Oh! Yes -- she nearly forgot: “And do it slowly, if you please.” Rose has been meaning to get a better understanding of how service gems interface with her ship…she hasn't taken the opportunity to observe them very closely before, in truth. So this is as good a time as any to watch and learn.

And it’s an odd request, besides. Maybe luck will have it that Pearl dares to be curious.

[herconfidante]

Rose Diamond's presence edges in like an electric current licking up her heels.

Four cycles longer? But why, the question sneaks up to her tongue, shattered beneath phantom lashes at her back before it can escape. 943-D's shoulders twitch halfway up to her ears; with a silent exhale, she forces them back down.

Properly functional pearls don't question authority.

"Understood," she answers, clipped, her palm pressing back over the control panel. The uncertainties knocking around the inside of her skull (but why four cycles, had she miscalculated, was there a detail she overlooked) are thankfully dimmed by the static. The screen comes back alive, alight with holograms and calculations, putting together trajectories like puzzle pieces.

It's a conscious effort to slow herself down when the process comes as naturally as a flex of her fingers, and so 943-D is very, very mindful of herself, stressing out every step of the path as she works. But then, before long forms the fear of being too slow, of appearing condescending -- a small grain of unease in her stomach that instantly sprouts tendrils, lurching up to her throat, nearly enough to choke. Pearl's knees wobble, and her voice comes out raspy, but at the very least she manages not to stammer:

"Is this speed satisfactory?"

[likestoplay]

Oh dear, she doesn’t like that at all, does she?

Were Pearl facing her, Rose would have to bring a hand to her chin to smuggle her smile. Instead she gives the corner of her lips a quiet nibble, trying to tug her grin away. Narrow, but so flexible! Pearl has her shoulders hiked up fiercely, as though the scant skin and slope of them could lend her a shell to recede into. Oh, now -- that would be quite the defect --

That’s a bit too mean. Rose ushers away the thought, and (grin tugged aside at last) moves closer.

Service gems handling ship controls… it’s such a commonplace sight that it’s hardly warranted to closer look before. This is new for Rose. True, the chance to watch as slim hands flicker and weave in a foreign language is… part of the pretense, really, to take Pearl’s mind of off Rose’s approach. But her interest is quite genuine. And that interest unfurls into full intrigue once it comes to Rose’s attention that she can’t follow what Pearl is doing.

Part of that is structural, of course. Tech-based service gems are intentionally shaped during formation to blend together with machinery and tools. It’s part of their design. But Rose has become aware, recently, of the incredible amount of competencies and skillsets that she simply has never needed to use. And so she is -- and most upper Gems, come to think of it -- almost completely ignorant of how to perform "basic" tasks. Left stranded alone on her own ship, she could... eventually figure out how to corral it back to smooth, unthinking function. Certainly. But not without some emergency landings and the resulting hackneyed patch jobs. (To say nothing of the bruises to her generous self-esteem.)

She can’t quite place it. There’s a gap, she knows. More than one. In this… this. All of it. And she’s the only one who seems to notice, even if she can’t speak in specifics, and it’s frustrating, and Rose Quartz and frustration are not well-acquainted.

A time might come when she can articulate the dysfunction she senses. Can act upon it, even. But for now the nag of it only serves to nettle her ego.

Better to grasp what’s before her, now.

“Yes, that’s lovely -- oh -- hold there, a moment!” Her voice tugs brightly, in the middle, as she peers up at the bouquet of light and logistics. Greedy, greedy eyes take in this new puzzle. No amount of intrigue, though, can completely distract her from the fact that she’s now looming alongside Pearl. No squelching the little voice saying You could graze your thumb down that wisp of shoulder, you know.

But Rose is patient. (And preoccupied.)

“This section, here --” She reaches, with no regard for consequence, directly into the hologram of what appears to be a visual feed of input. Now that she’s actually watching the colors and characters pouring in midair, it’s too beautiful to resist a curious touch. No telling if that will interfere with her poor pilot, though. “Am I correct that this shows where you’ve added more turns?”

[herconfidante]

The tension barely just begins to unspool from her spine at the approval (lovely) before clinching back tight -- being stopped must mean she's done something wrong, somehow, within that four-second span. Rose Diamond is at her side now, and she can catch the ghost of her reflection between strings of digits and data, but more than that, 943-D can feel her. It is as though she is the axis the whole structure of the ship rotates around, and when she moves closer, the walls shift in tandem, closing in.

It is bone-numbingly terrifying, but at the same time-- tantalizing, to have her this close. (Suddenly she's in the center, too.) A stray curl grazes the edge of her shoulder when Rose Diamond leans forward, and 943-D's lungs freeze. The hologram stutters with the touch, a split-second's itch between her eyebrows before it restabilizes, and the ice in her chest melts along with it.

That's not reprimand in Her Majesty's voice -- it's interest, genuine interest, she swears. Rose Diamond wants to hear about it? About her work? Reason denounces the mere thought ridiculous, but it's quickly and effectively swallowed up by a wave of tingling giddiness.

"Yes, absolutely!" 943-D responds, unable to restrain the alien tugging at the corners of her mouth. She gestures to the screen with her free hand as the words bubble up to her throat in a gush: "Like this, you can mark the breakdowns in the ship's course -- planets under Homeworld control are colored green, orange or red, depending on their current geological stability. The tab on the upper left displays the changes in the magnetosphere -- by enlarging it, see, you can view the solar wind charts for the next twenty cycles, as well as any threats of geomagnetic storms..."

It takes her a little too long to realize she's prattling, and 943-D's jaw snaps shut, arm furling back inwards. "M-my deepest apologies," she forces out, stumbling over her own tongue, "I've encumbered you with needless information."

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There’s no sensation in brushing her fingertips against the hologram -- none for Rose, at least. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for Pearl. She knows, abstractly, that a service gem interfacing with any sort of control panel necessitates some degree of sensory extension into its displays, but Rose’s interest is piqued for reasons far from academic. Far from protocol. Inspiration crackles, cruel and delighted: if she were to card her fingers through it -- to caress that light --

No, no. She bites back a private smile, warming a sidelong look at her pilot. Be gentle.

The gushing enthusiasm is new, and more importantly adorable on Pearl; Rose will have to find more ways to lure it out.

“‘Needless’?” Her head shakes as she laughs. “Hardly. It’s a relief, knowing my ship is in knowledgeable hands.”

Compliments had been rather hit-or-miss so far. Perhaps Rose should soften it -- or firm it up, rather. Something more structured for this pretty, twitchy little thing who’s likely never in her life been the target of some good, wholesome flattery.

“... it is in good hands, isn’t it?”

[herconfidante]

A faint, warm glow settles over 943-D's features with the praise, but it cracks and shatters as soon as affirmation is sought. How is she to answer? 943-D may be fluent in the field, but she is marked defective -- a fact that had been laid plainly before Rose Diamond at the time of her recruitment. Repeatedly, even, by various handlers, until it became clear she would not change her mind.

Regardless, perhaps the most correct answer would be to call attention to it once more. Yes, it would only make sense to -- except the strangest lump clogs up 943-D's throat when she tries, and only recedes once she's considered other words.

"... As it is my designated role, I've been fully equipped with the necessary skill set."

you should ABSOLUTELY expect me to be distracted every thursday

[likestoplay]

Hmm. A pout plucks at Rose's mouth. She can't quite place her disappointment. It should come as no surprise that Pearl would answer like.... well. A pearl.

Oh, stars, there's a thought worth wrestling. Ugh. Rose buffets it aside quickly, before her face can darken further.

She is above that paradigm.

And smoothing out her expression, too. She pulls away from the control panel -- a mite reluctant -- to fold her hands in front of her. They’re restless. Wanting to touch. Take hold. Direct. She murmurs, “I’m glad to hear it,” and it’s almost true.

They’re restless. Rose makes a… permissive sort of gesture, aimed at the control panel: signaling for Pearl to finish at her own pace.

“I was a bit worried, for awhile --” and oh, that’s not true at all “-- looking for a replacement pilot, after Cobalt. She was very good.”

[herconfidante]

943-D cannot see Rose Diamond's face, eyes focused on the screen before her -- but the retracted hand and the lull in speech crackle with disapproval, and she doesn't know what it is she did wrong.

Perhaps it doesn't matter how carefully she weighs her words, when 943-D herself is the problem. But she isn't chastised for it, and so she simply opts to remain silent, submerging herself in the soft hum of static until Rose Diamond's voice slices through the room again.

Very good. The unspoken expectation hangs in the air, and 943-D swallows. She is used to coming up short.

She tries: "I'll make every effort not to disappoint--" and Your Majesty rolls up to the tip of her tongue, but she curls it inwards, swallows. The sentence ends strange and clipped, and her jaw tightens in the silence.

Wrong. Wrong. Every single word out of her mouth is wrong, isn't it?

But work-- work is easy.

"-- Shall I leave the course as is, or return it to its previous state?"

[likestoplay]

“With the additional four cycles, yes,” Rose hums. In a less preoccupied state, she might have added “please.”

As is, though, Rose folds her hands again. She does not enjoy feeling preoccupied. Preoccupation is too close a neighbor to frustration, and the former threatens to fold into latter if she doesn’t act in some fashion.

And oh. Oh, do options leap to mind.

Gentle, she reminds herself. Grins, a bit rueful. Be gentle.

The lacquered floor clicks gently as Rose steps away from the panel -- away from Pearl. Pauses; quiet. For a moment it feels as though she’ll continue clicking a slow, languid path toward the exit: back to her chambers, maybe. To leave Pearl to her peace.

But in one silent lope she’s crouched at Pearl’s other side -- far too close for comfort or decency -- and purring plump, oily mischief in her ear: “Aren't you curious about what happened to Cobalt?”

[herconfidante]

"Understood," she says again, and silently awaits further instructions. But they don't come; only the flawless rhythmic click-click-clack of heels, almost mathematical in its evenness.

A cold, quiet weight settles into 943-D's chest. A distinct feeling of failure, the source of which she cannot pinpoint. She had fulfilled all her orders, effectively and without reprimand. Why does it not feel right to be left without punishment?

Rose Diamond wanted something, something more, something she doesn't have to give--

"Eep!" A high-pitched squeal resounds across the room as that hot murmur licks at her ear, dismantling her thoughts into a scattered mess of syllables. It takes 943-D a second just to realize that terrible, ludicrous noise came out of her, and she clamps her hands over her mouth far too late for it to be of any use. (The connection to the terminal is promptly cut.)

"I-I... " Words hitching. Not good. Her eyes flicker and scurry, catching an edge of soft cheek and a sliver of pink before she reins them in, straight ahead. "I had... assumed it was not my place to inquire."

[likestoplay]

There it is! Rose has to straighten to make room for herself -- for the delighted, full-body laughter she lets loose in the control room. There it is! The colorful reaction she’s been angling for. What a treat!

She tapers off into a few bright giggles before collecting herself, at least somewhat. Her voice still shakes with the tail end of amusement: “Oh, you’re so cute when you’re surprised!” She’ll have to remember that.

The last of her laughter bubbles away into a pleased hum. Oh, she’ll have to draw out some more of those. The blacked-out terminal hardly even registers for Rose as she leans, again, to study Pearl in profile. A very pretty face: handsomely boned, with large, expressive eyes, and an inviting little mouth (even if thin in the lips). These features aren’t wholly unique, she knows. Well. As she understands it. Rose isn’t quite certain she’d be able to distinguish her Pearl from the thousands of others, if need be -- she’s never been this close to one before.

She’s never been a slow learner, either. If Rose wants this skittish thing to start expressing wants, it will take some creative cajoling.

“You should know that I encourage curiosity, on my ship.” It comes out as a croon: sanded smooth and darkly warm by laughter. “Along with eye contact.”

[herconfidante]

943-D stares dead ahead, eyes boring holes in the blackened display screen. She stares as Rose Diamond's laughter spills out, like metal wire spider-legs -- coiling around her ankles and climbing up to her abdomen, ribs, throat, smothering her. Her temples throb and her vision smears at the edges, but she does not budge-- petrified.

943-D has never evoked such laughter, such loud, belly-deep laughter; low-breathed snickers, teeth-baring sneers, but not... not like this. She does not know what it means, and it scares her.

(Yet she cannot help but notice how rich and velvety-smooth the sound is, how impossibly harmonious, even as it snuffs the air from her lungs.)

The wire loosens, a bit, once the laughter dies down. 943-D remembers how to blink, and the colors dancing in front of her eyes settle. But she still can't quite will herself to move; encourage doesn't feel as safe as command.

So she tries to steer it-- gently, just carefully, terrified that that in itself will be crossing a line.

"Is that an order?"

[likestoplay]

Oh, clever thing.

Rose had equipped herself with a gentle smile, anticipating a shaky turn -- a little gasp, maybe -- before locking eyes with a terrified pile of tremble. But no. No, this one’s clever, and a coil of hungry intrigue stirs low in Rose’s hips and rises: blooms: curves into a whetstone grin.

(Pearl is trying to maneuver, and the unexpected boldness makes Rose wants to unpiece her all the more.)

A rumbling hum: the sound is thoughtful. Slow. Unforgiving in its richness.

She leans even closer.

Her breath might rustle a few of Pearl’s downy hairs, she’s that close, and as she questions the question her voice is cuttingly gentle: “Would you like it to be?”

[herconfidante]

Rose Diamond's breath dyes her skin, warming it turquoise. The sensation swarms like a thousand little pinpricks across the side of 943-D's face -- an implacable prickle-itch that can be summoned by Rose Diamond alone, but always so effortlessly. It's odd and uncomfortably hot, yet at the same time-- something else. Implacable.

She breathes in against it, cocking her head to the side in the hopes it would rattle the answer loose. But nothing -- nothing's there, not a word. Her head is empty and her tongue is lead, and for one moment of sheer, paralyzing terror the only thing 943-D can think to do is plead for help. Would I? Am I supposed to? If she asked, would Rose Diamond impart her with the answer?

No. Even she understands well enough to know that's not what she wants of her. 943-D would only disappoint her again.

She needs to answer, but no one ever taught her how.

For a long moment, 943-D does not so much as open her mouth. Rose Diamond does not pull back, either, her slow exhales rippling patient against the side of her neck. It's strange that she does not feel panic; instead, she only feels very still. It's almost like a calm. There is no frenetic search for an answer, because she does not, could not, have one.

And it's through this calm that she's able to find the words: not her words, no, and not the answer Rose Diamond seeks. But they are automatic and sterile and easy, and they're an explanation, if nothing else.

"All pearls are designed to follow orders. All pearls are designed to know their place. It is a violation of code to establish direct eye contact with gems of higher standing. An order from a Diamond overrides an order from a farmhand; however, we are not taught the comparative power of a suggestion."

[likestoplay]

What a lovely shade of blue. Rose has seen it on more than one occasion, in the brief stretch of time she’s had Pearl, and continues to be quietly amused that the same thought nestles in the front of her mind again and again: How lovely.

She looks forward to seeing it more.

The grin softens to a smile, again, as she watches Pearl’s internal struggle… but the smile softens into blankness when Rose can find none. None. No darting eyes; no restless mouth. There is only a quizzical tilt of her chin, as though listening for something far away: perhaps the endless, solemn chew of the Recycling grate Rose had plucked her from.

Resignation. Numb, dumb, resignation. Not at all what Rose wants to see.

Gentle. Be gentle. She’s pressing too quickly. You want to coax her, not corner.

(Part of Rose wouldn’t mind the cornering, in truth. But it’s not the part that wins out.)

“As you say.” She pulls back, just slightly. Keeps her voice gentled low. Keeps her eyes soft, and safe: dark and patient as space. She murmurs, “Look at me, then, Pearl,” and this time has the presence of mind to add: “Please.”

[herconfidante]

It's still-- not right, for a Diamond to tell her please, but it's a clear-cut enough request for 943-D to follow without guilt locking her muscles stiff.

So she turns her head, eyelashes shuttering over her eyes until she's able to settle on Rose Diamond's face. Then they lift, slowly, as if gauging its safety -- like staring up directly at the sun, only to find it doesn't burn.

There's one more reason she won't look into her face without explicit instructions: it is so very hard to look away. Snatching a glance from the edge of her vision, from the other side of the control deck, that's safe. But from this up close, with Rose Diamond's breath tickling her cheek, her eyes drawing her in, their noses nearly touching-- impossible.

The noose around her throat tightens. 943-D does not know what to do. Oh-- but then she remembers, a lifeline-- yes, this is the other thing she wanted of her: "Th-then, may I inquire as to what happened to your previous pilot?"

(Her voice is barely a whisper and it still feels too loud, they're so close.)

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Quiet. For a good, long moment, Rose is quiet. Not smiling, or speaking, or turning her chin to fashion an appraising look at Pearl -- she just watches her. Quiet. Just drinks her in: savors the sidereal shade of awe shining through her upturned face. It’s an effort not to swallow Pearl whole with her eyes.

Oh, she’s delectable.

“You may,” Rose says. Quiet. The urge to paint a stroke down her cheek is incredible. Just. Incredible.

She nearly resists it, even. Instead she reaches: careful, slow: and brushes the back of her hand down a wan cheek. Croons, too, easy as a sigh, “That’s very good, Pearl.”

Soft touch: soft flesh, too. Her hand wants to linger but that’s enough indulgence for the moment.

It’s a good time to straighten her back. (She’ll have to look into having that chair raised, if she plans on repeating this sort of thing.) Rose pulls away -- a bit reluctant -- but doesn’t move from Pearl’s side. Instead, she folds her hands behind her. Hums, again. Remembering.

“Cobalt,” she begins, “was consistently adroit as a pilot, for a good while.” It’s only now Rose properly notices the blackened display. She doesn’t much care, honestly, but it’s a good enough target for her eyeline as she continues: “Then I found myself in a nasty little tangle around Pleiades-9 -- with shields at only half-capacity --” she grins sideways, rueful, “and Cobalt proved to have a colorful hand in both improvisation and munitions.”

Tough, trying to batten down her smile. That battle had gotten her dream-of-blood singing.

“She’s a darling of a pilot -- honestly! Very good at steering ships,” Rose tinkles a laugh. “She’s just better at gutting them to shrapnel. So I stationed her at my personal munitions plant, on Homeworld… one of my lead engineers, now.” And a very good one. Seems much happier for the change in scenery, too.

I’d like to keep her here, floats in Rose’s head, I want her here. But she should ask about preference, regardless; it can only help to have Pearl play to her strengths.

Rose turns. She doesn’t crowd her as she did earlier. Still, though, her warm posture makes it clear that she expects eye contact once again.

“How do you like it on my ship, Pearl?” But she reconsiders that. She wants the pressure off. Rewords her question to another -- one more easily answered through fact alone, perhaps: “Are you comfortable here?”

[herconfidante]

943-D's eyes shimmer like glass in sunlight, and her lips part before twitching upwards in awe -- 'good.' Very good! She'd made the right choice; she has pleased Rose Diamond. Those words of praise and velvet touch to her cheek are enough to send her reeling, to fill her chest with giddy hope: maybe she can learn. Maybe, with enough attentiveness and work, she can almost be as good as a fully functional pearl.

And then maybe-- Rose Diamond will praise her more. Touch her like that more.

(Oh dear. That's not a functional thought, is it. She squares her shoulders and exhales.)

When Rose Diamond pulls back, her eyes remain focused on the now-vacant spot, lost as to where to go. For a moment they are tempted to follow, but the thought is quickly ruled presumptuous, and they drop instead to the smooth lacquer floor. And she listens, closely and carefully, hanging on to every precious word Rose Diamond has deemed her worthy of hearing.

Soon, though, 943-D finds herself shifting. Her toes curl and uncurl against the soles of her shoes, and her fingers lace together at her lap, rubbing at knuckles. It's abnormal, isn't it? Diverting from your designation. Yet there's such warmth to Rose Diamond's voice when she speaks of it, fondness, maybe even something like-- respect? Is that it?

943-D's chest tugs with unease, and the cradle of her fingers tightens to a dull ache. It's nerve-wracking and unnatural still, but she turns to look at her when she thinks she is prompted, because taking that risk just before earned her approval. She hopes it is the right choice this time, as well.

The questions Rose Diamond asks always feel as though they're targeted at someone else, only reaching her ears by mistake. She doesn't use her designation code, either. Are you comfortable, she asks her, and it is something like fitting a cube into a round container. 943-D is well familiar by now with the discomfort bubbling in her stomach, the impertinent, wrong-wrong urge to correct: no, you do not understand, I'm a pearl.

Instead, she says: "It is an incomparable honor and privilege to serve you."

And it's every bit as honest, yet 943-D finds that her jaw doesn't fit together quite right afterwards. It's not enough. What she is is something far beyond comfortable, but far deeper than her words were able to express, as well. Her eyes widen and lips thin with a silent helplessness, and she tries again, stilted: "I can only hope to repay my debt in time."

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Rose will need to choose her words with care --temper whimsy with some nuance. It's vexing. Blue was always the diplomat, of the four of them.

But are you comfortable here? is her instinct. She scraps it. You don't owe me a debt comes to mind, too, but the correction would be like pounding a bulkhead bolt through the back of her neck: a flinch, a cringe, stunned to a hasty agreement.

Physical touch has seemed the most effective, so far. It's fun too. She finds her hand reaching once again: fingers just grazing through the soft tousle of Pearl's hair (goodness, what a pleasant color), not intending for more than that. But somehow the touch deepens: her palm smooths into a warm, patient stroke along her head. Unrushed. Just enjoying.

(Oh, it's fluffy.)

"So I see." It takes no effort to keep approval in her eyes, smiling down at Pearl. "I hope that means you're at least comfortable with me, then."

[herconfidante]

All of 943-D's frustrations, all the half-formed words clanking around in her skull (because there have to be better ones, if she tries) -- everything collapses into one useless, goopy heap at the touch of Rose Diamond's hand. As if the sheer warmth of her fingertips alone is enough to melt everything underneath it.

Though 943-D does not feel she did well, if she's being rewarded, it means that she must have. That's all that should matter. Yet she's just a little bit tense, at first, thinking once more she ought to provide a better answer -- but then, oh, the glide of fingers across scalp drains away the last of her misgivings, turning her bones to putty. Soft and dizzyingly wonderful, nothing she should deserve, and yet -- somehow, inexplicably -- here she is. Deemed worthy.

"Yes," she sighs out, and says nothing more after. It's all right, she thinks. Here, in this moment, just this is enough.

[likestoplay]

"Yes"? A naked "yes"?

Rose's eyebrows nearly retreat to her hairline. No qualifying, disclaiming, or evading the question. Just a reply. Oh, pride pours full in her in chest as she croons approval.

A little thrill of craving, too: tampering warm in her belly. Rose wants to toy. (But she's patient.)

"That's a lovely, simple answer, Pearl. Well done." She stirs another smooth stroke along her head: ruffles the downy little hairs along the back of her neck: gentle. "Do you think you can give more answers like that?"

[herconfidante]

It's a good thing she's sitting, 943-D thinks, because the surge of sugar-electricity that runs down her knees would've been enough to make them buckle. She's doing well. She's doing well. She's pleasing Rose Diamond and it feels so good, better than fulfilling orders, even -- because that answer came from her, all on its own.

Her head tilts subconsciously with each stroke of fingertips, its angling exposing a hint of pale neck over the edge of her collar. She's dimly aware of the rapid throb within her ribcage, but it's strange -- it feels almost lightyears away. Like the only parts of this flesh construction that are tangible and here are those Rose Diamond is touching, and the rest is all anchorless, floating.

She doesn't even have to think it before breathing out that second 'yes'.

But then her head lolls a bit too far to the side, and the straining of muscle yanks her back to reality. 943-D's heart stops as soon as the words catch up to her, and she realizes it's a promise she's not sure she can abide, and that's-- that's lying, lying to her owner, lying to a Diamond.

Her limbs are heavy again, her tongue clumsy. "I-- I will make every effort," she struggles to amend, and her eyes drop guilty to her lap as she realizes: she's already failed. Within the same breath.

Uneasy heat scratches at her cheeks. "-- I'm sorry."

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Ah… well. Can’t relearn existence that quickly, Rose supposes. Still: it’s a start.

Her smile stays gentle.

“You’re doing very well.” She hadn’t noticed herself beginning to lean down, again. Shifting inward. Wanting to close the distance between herself and the wonderful, needy little faces Pearl is making. She probably doesn’t even realize that she’s tipping her head into the touch. (And oh, doesn’t that feel nice.) Rose’s fingers weave through the supple give of her hair a moment longer as she murmurs, low, “You’re trying so, so hard, aren’t you? I can tell. I’m pleased.”

Stars, she might spend the next cycle like this: just petting an eager, moon-smelling thing into a pretty little puddle. It wouldn’t be hard. Would be downright delicious, in fact. Rose is no stranger to piles of tremble.

Be gentle echoes. But -- oh, that’s becoming so troublesome.

Still: it’s a start. Her hand drifts away from the patches of heat she’s woven through Pearl’s hair (little tufts stick up, oh goodness, that’s cute) to ghost down her cheek once again: a knuckle curls beneath Pearl’s often-bowed chin to tip upwards. To meet her eyes.

Rose searches them. Perhaps a whisper of want lies there.

“I need you to listen to me closely, now.” Rose lets her finger stroke under Pearl’s chin, too -- she might admire that tender length of neck, were her eyes not so heavy and black with intent. “Can you do that, Pearl?”

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Again, 943-D braces for reprimand. Again, all she receives is a bottomless fountain of kindness -- tender hands stroking patient down her scalp, silken voice wrapping her up in sun-glow words. The punishment she expected still does not come, and a foreign, odd-shaped thought plants its roots at the base of her skull: maybe it never will.

Because here is Rose Diamond, witnessing her struggling and her failure, and praising her for them; as if there was merit to intent, to trying, even with nothing to show for it.

And 943-D doesn't understand how anyone or anything in this entire solar system can be so wholly, unshakably good.

Rose Diamond tilts her chin up as if her head weighs nothing at all, not a single drop of resistance to be found in her muscles. (She worries, though, that she can feel her swallow.) Her face is still hot -- all over now, but somehow quieter. A sweeter, softer heat; it permeates deeper when those eyes lock onto hers.

She swallows, again. (Strange, with her throat so dry.)

"Yes."

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Is that a little hoarseness in her voice? Is that a tinge of hope in her expression? The meek face tipped up to meet Rose's eyes is nearly in a haze, and oh: Rose enjoys a balmy swell of protectiveness, of affection.

What a curious charm. Already, Rose can feel herself wanting to make room for this new habit -- to communicate her pleasure at each opportunity. Have this sweet thing glowing calm under her touch.

The next words come from low within Rose: a place simmering-warm, but crackling with quiet power.

"I want you to know that you're safe here." The gentle words dip in crisp tandem with her tone: this is Rose's promise voice. And a promise from Rose Diamond is irresistible as gravity. "I won't harm you..." A pause; "... nor will I allow anyone else to."

Pearl generation and conditioning is a bit opaque for Rose, but not as much as she might like.

"You're safe with me." The powder-soft touches under Pearl's chin have stilled... but Rose's smile chimes a little brighter as her thumb wanders: flickers: just grazes its pad over the corner of Pearl's lips. Voice too rich and too sweet for anything Homeworld knows: "Do you understand, Pearl?"