[OPEN] what comes first

[acicular]

Characters: Antarcticite, Rutile, Padparadscha + you!!
Date: The middle of October
Location: Throughout Aifaran
Situation: Antarcticite has found a way to make themselves useful to Aifaran this month: they’ve joined the Sentry! Hilarity ensues.
Warnings/Rating: Potential body horror things in prompt 3! Gems are able to break off pieces of themselves without causing themselves any pain, but if missing limbs is a thing that might upset you, give that prompt a pass.



I. Ghost Buster? (Justice 4; OPEN)

It should really come as no surprise to Antarcticite that their tenure as a neighbourhood coordinator is short-lived. They have never been much of a team player; that’s a rather essential component of coordinating anything, isn’t it?

Yet they had performed every required task exactly to the sergeant’s specifications! They put out all the fires during the fire safety drills! They arrested and scolded all of the drunkards! Sure, no one else was able to get a word in edgewise because they were so diligent in their work, and maybe a few of the fake!drunks didn’t take kindly to getting real!lectured--but that just means they weren’t pushing themselves hard enough--right?

Wrong, apparently. Antarcticite is still standing in stunned silence, staring at the back of the departing sergeant, when a friendly, sympathetic Castian member of the Sentry approaches them.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” he says; maybe he just has a soft-spot for the Dreamfolk, or maybe there’s something genuinely heartbreaking in Antarcticite’s look of wide-eyed, crestfallen dismay over having his new role revoked from him so soon. He tries another avenue. “You’ve got heart though. Uh, figuratively,” he adds--do these gems have organs? Time to ask the supervisor. “You should come by one of the precincts sometime, talk to a recruitment officer.”

Numbly, Antarcticite drags their eyes up to the Castian’s. It seems to take them a moment to realize that this might, in fact, kind of be a job offer. They blink owlishly. “...but I failed,” they point out in a sad, quiet little voice.

The Castian just shrugs at them, grinning. “Can’t lead ‘til you learn how to follow, kid.”

When the Sentry officer returns to his patrol, Antarcticite is still standing in the same place on the sidewalk on the same stretch of street, though now they are staring determinedly at a business card.


II. Trading Spaces, Maybe (Closed to Rutile and Padparadscha)

It was not easy for the Sentry to find a uniform quite petite enough to fit Antarcticite’s frame, but the fact that they now wear it is cause enough for them to celebrate. They don’t drift aimlessly back to the Dreaming Bridge today as they have on so many other occasions; no, aimless wandering is for juniors who haven’t found a way to make themselves meaningful to their community. And that, most assuredly, is not Antarcticite today.

“Rutile?” they ask, or, “Padparadscha?” as they poke their head into various common areas, nearly vibrating with excitement as they search for the pair of senior gems. They have so few other connections here in Aifaran, and none whose opinion they value nearly as highly.


III. Metaphysical Mishap (OPEN)

Naturally, the Dreaming would decide to yank the rug out from beneath Antarcticite’s (very impressive) heels as soon as they’ve found some form of meaningful work in the city.

They’re following up a lead on a mugging in one of Aifaran’s rougher neighbourhoods, diligently following the procedure laid out before them to canvas as many witnesses as possible, when their leg gives out on them halfway down a flight of rickety wooden stairs. They’re already tumbling straight towards the bottom before they’re even able to yelp in surprise--and the sharp contact with the steps is hard enough to leave visible fractures in the crystalline structure of their face. A few shards splinter off and scatter like glass across the ground.

They’re laying on their back at the foot of the stairs in dazed silence for a few moments until they are able to piece together what happened: their left leg seems to have melted below the knee. Not completely--it’s still there, albeit the white paint that Padparadscha had so painstakingly applied to the limb last month has melted away, and there’s a sharp, jagged break where their ankle should be.

The foot itself isn’t far away, and as Antarcticite pushes themselves up groggily into a sitting position, they don’t appear to be in any pain. Just--disoriented, and alarmed.

Comments

II

[corundrum]

Padparadscha can be found in the Breakwater common room, observing a hydroponic planter that's been there for some time. There's a variety of colourful flowers blooming out of it, and Padparadscha appears to be writing something down about it in a small notebook when Antarcticite speaks up and they turn their head.

"What is it?" they ask, before seeing Antarcticite's outfit and smiling slightly in understanding. "Ah, I see you changed your uniform..."

Padparadscha had considered joining the Sentry when they first arrived, but they hadn't been overly fond of the bureaucratic angle of it.

[acicular]

Bureaucracy suits Antarcticite just fine—they do very well with a strict set of rules and guidelines to follow, even if it seems as though their stiff demeanour is not endearing them to their peers just yet. Antarcticite is prepared to give them all time; they have every intention of setting the best example.

Padparadscha’s observation brings a modest flush of colour to their cheeks, and somewhat abashed, they look aside. That doesn’t prevent them from quirking the smallest of smiles. “I wasn’t sure they would let me in with my low hardness rating,” they admit, but can’t stop themselves from brightening. “But I passed all their tests, and I must have performed well. And it feels like—a good fit, for me.”

Though, judging by the earnest, hopeful look in their eyes as they gaze at the senior gem, the unspoken, don’t you think so? could not be clearer.

[corundrum]

Padparadscha has to laugh a little at that, because it does seem like Antarcticite would be overqualified. "Well, the living things here aren't particularly high hardness themselves, are they? Even their frames are very brittle."

So someone like Antarc is probably still better off than the squishy beings with somewhat more solid bone that make up most of the people in the Sentry. "But I think it suits you, yes. Someone who took on winter duty on their own would have to be more qualified than most of their number I've seen before, after all."

It's a compliment, though Padparadscha still seems somewhat amused in saying it. Perhaps Antarc can pull up the socks of the Sentry a bit by being part of it.

[acicular]

Amused or not, it's still clear that Padparadscha intends to pay them a compliment, which surely must mean that they approve of Antarcticite's choice. They brighten with a visible smile, though something in the elder gem's words still leaves them looking a little puzzled. For a moment they don't say anything else, but wander over to stand next to Padparadscha and consider the hydroponic garden that they've been tending.

The question comes out of them anyway, though. "What do you mean?" they ask, though it isn't as though Padparadscha's reply was vague. "You don't think the Sentry are competent?"

[corundrum]

Padparadscha turns more fully away from the planter, a slight amusement still playing around their expression. "I think they're adjusted to a shallower level of threat than we're used to. And that they're tangled in their own systems and rules."

They suppose a world like this would have to have stricter requirements regarding what sentry could and couldn't do, but it still seems like an ill-fitting system to them, somehow.

"I've found I end up dealing with others' problems without their intervention anyway, so I suppose you could say I just don't want to risk the unforeseen result."

As usual. Padparadscha prefers to handle their own concerns in one way or another anyway, so the Sentry's failure to intervene with situations they've encountered isn't that much of a concern to them.

III

[lasergrenades]

Since she was in the area doing work herself, Pepper responds to a ping on her yimo asking for an additional unit to assist someone. She knows Antarcticite a little, and these things are usually better to do in pairs anyway. Two sets of eyes, two sets of brains - and backup, just in case.

As she approaches the building in question, Pepper hears a loud ruckus. Anticipating a scuffle, she darts inside without hesitation, keeping Vee at the ready. What she finds is not a fight, but Antarcticite in pieces.

"Oh, my gosh, are you okay? What happened?" She kneels at their side, hands hovering but not touching, uncertain. "Should I call a medic?"

[acicular]

It takes them several long moments to clue in to the approaching footsteps of another person, and when they look up somewhat groggily towards Pepper, their vacant blue stare seems to go straight through her.

Numbly, they reply, "I fell," and then affix their gaze upon their leg. Unsettlingly, right before their eyes, the Dreaming seems to be undoing the worst of its merciless little trick; Antarcticite's leg seems to grow more solid, resembling chipped crystal moreso than a melting ice cube... though the semi-sentient Dreaming plane doesn't see fit to reattach their foot in the process. Figures.

"Should I call a medic?"

At that question, Antarcticite finally seems to come back to themselves a bit, and quickly shakes their head, looking more embarrassed than traumatized. "No!" they insist, "No, that is unnecessary. I knew this might happen, I did come prepared--" They pat themselves down in search of the little container of glue that they'd pilfered from the supply closet.

[lasergrenades]

Pepper isn't certain how gem anatomy or medicine works, but generally speaking she will trust them to know themselves pretty well. Even if it's unnerving to see Antarcticite fractured apart. At least the gem doesn't seem to be in obvious pain.

She's not sure what they're looking for exactly as they pat themself down, but she glances around to see if something might have gone flying when Antarcticite fell. There are a few chipped shards of the gem laying around, and not much else until she spots something beneath the stairs. Pepper hops up and goes to pick the container up. "Are you looking for this?" Beat. "What is it?"

I

[spiralpatterns]

Zephyr catches only a little of the exchange -- just enough to make sure no one's being unduly hassled, of course. It's not a big deal, just a thing he likes to keep an eye out for.

But after the officer's gone, and the person just keeps kind of standing there, Zephyr jams his hands casually in his pockets and ambles over. Just to see. Just in case everything's not actually okay. "Hey, you doing all right there?"

[acicular]

"Hey, you doing all right there?"

They look up and then at Zephyr, their thoughts still miles away, which likely explains the vacant expression that lingers for a moment. Then they frown; they have never been one for telling lies, but they've also never been in a position like this before. Are they all right?

"I--" they begin, their jaw working as they try to make sense of their feelings. They look back down to the business card. "...I don't know. I've never been rewarded for failure before."

[spiralpatterns]

Well, that sure is a noncommittal answer. "Business card isn't all that much of a reward," Zephyr points out, craning his head till he can see what exactly is going on with that card. "If you wanna talk through it, I don't mind listening."

He's not gonna push, though, it's really none of his business. He leans back once he's gotten some look at the card, swaying casually as he shifts his weight. It's the easy un-balancing of a man who knows exactly how to be balanced at a moment's notice.