Work Text:
Sometime in HC11
Pearl walks across Joe’s dock, glancing over it in a brief inspection. Her plan is to find Joe and talk about fire prevention plans. He sounded really enthusiastic about the whole concept, particularly about an idea he had in case of a fire. Maybe Joe’s backup could help the entire server!
She will have to ask him about possibly sharing it with the rest of the server. Depending on its effectiveness of course.
First things first, finding Joe.
She stares questioningly at his white art-deco buildings, wondering where he could be. She randomly opens the nearest door, which leads to a large, open unfinished space. At the far end is Joe. Pearl quietly stalks forward, deciding it would be fun to startle him. Whatever Joe is doing, he seems absolutely immersed.
Pearl doesn’t get far before she stops.
Joe is sitting in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable. His second set of green spectral arms are floating nearby, holding papers and pencils. His fleshbound arms, as he always calls them, are both writing in notebooks. The streaks in his hair are glowing the same eerie bright green as his eyes, arms, and the extensive patterns on the floor around him. Symbols maybe? Or writing. Whatever it is, it looks questionable.
Pearl has seen Joe’s eyes flash green before, but never solid green. Right now they have no pupils or iris. The light isn’t reflecting on them either, almost like they are absorbing all light. Yet they shine brightly.
Glowing green symbols to float in the air, sometimes stringing together, and breaking apart.
Pearl watches in awe, entranced, and concerned for a moment before the sound hits her.
Words.
Sounds slam into her like a truck, almost making her lose her breath. They envelop her, and she can feel them. She can feel Joe’s words filling the air and her head.
Joe’s voice is layered, speaking common, galactic, and many she can’t identify, some she can’t begin to comprehend. A peculiar buzzing, not too unlike her ears ringing, floods her mind. A buzzing whispering to her about just how vast the universe is, the endless number of servers, a glimpse at how deep the void is.
Her breathing constricts even more, and Pearl feels like she can’t move. She is far too tightly wound up in the poem. Pearl doesn’t know how she knows it’s a poem, but she can tell it is.
It doesn’t feel malicious though.
Beyond her, unreasonably weird and disconcerting, yes. With ill-intent, no. Almost comforting in a sense.
Joe still doesn’t appear to have noticed her, happily mumbling to a continuous rhythm. Pearl tries to move her finger. It moves. Her movement isn’t actually restricted after all. She cautiously takes a step back, feeling completely out of sync with her body. But she can move.
Another step.
Another.
Finally it doesn’t feel like her limbs are hopelessly tangled up in words. She carefully closes the door to his building.
She can always talk to him later.
Pearl sits at the edge of Joe’s dock, dangling her feet into the ocean for a few minutes as she gives herself a few moments to recover enough to safely fly home. Her head is so full of something that she can’t quite place. Clouded by whatever poetry Joe was writing. She looks down at the ocean instead, and loses herself staring into it for a few minutes, admiring every little thing about it. The way the water shines in the sunlight, and laps gently at her leg.
The water has a meditative effect on her, and soon she feels like she can fly safely. She equips her elytra and launches. The rocket lifts her up, the warm morning air filling her underneath her wings, and she is airborne. She can’t help but laugh as she soars over the server, spinning in the air. The miracle of flight is such a wondrous thing!
She ends up landing on one of the rocks she created, looking over what of her base she has built so far. Pearl finds herself sitting there for a few hours, surveying everything in a dreamy haze.
Perhaps she will write a poem about it.