legendary

champagne supernova

"Make ten men feel like a hundred."
- Cassian Andor (from Rogue One: A Star Wars Story)

These Pearls have not spoken a word in their three hundred years.

They're ten Pearls. To their masters, the glorified slaves are identical, if not for their physical differences. They're all a pretty champagne color. They're all silent, immobile statues against the wall. They're all silent, graceful dancers on the stages across Homeworld. They're all assigned to two Moissanites: the twins. They're all perfect apprentices.

The Moissanite Sisters never fight. They're a peaceful, harmonic duo: the best choreographers Homeworld has ever seen. One has her gemstone on her right shoulder, the other is her perfect reflection. They're tall, slender, with just enough muscle. They're astonishingly beautiful, their hair is always styled into a matching set. Their dresses are always the most gorgeous things the Pearls have ever seen. And the Moissanite Sisters never fight over anything. They never even have any conflicts at all.

The Pearls watch, in silence. The Sisters perform, and then the Pearls mimic. That's their job. Then, they perform in front of an audience: Gems of all colors, a rainbow of etiquette and elegance. They dance, they shine under the spotlight, their dresses or skirts or shorts or suits glisten golden and send sparkles of light around the theatre.

Their lives are simple. These Pearls do not know they have voices. They were born together, the ten of them: they don't need words to talk. They listen, to the way their light steps fall heavier sometimes, the shuffling of one of their feet. A warning. A message.

The Pearls listen. The Pearls watch. The Pearls dance.

One day, the Pearls face the unknown: the Moissanites are fighting.

The screams soon reach the chambers the Pearls share. They do not move. It is as if time has frozen.

They have never interacted with any other Pearls besides themselves, but they've seen. When a master becomes upset, the Pearl always pays the price. And there's ten of them. They look at each other, panic on their eyes. A tap on the wall. A rubbing of feet together.

A Pearl stands up. They've reached a consensus. She peeks outside the resting area, looking down the hallway, and quickly hides inside again. Technically, she's not outside the chamber, but she can hear her masters clearly now.

"Sister, do you not see? Have they blinded you so badly?" The left Moissanite is upset. The right Moissanite is angry. Left continues to speak. "The Diamonds utilize us, and we cannot allow this to continue."

"The rebels have cracked you, Sister!," Right cries. "You're having delusions of grandeur, my dear. You think you can be a fighter? You're weak, fickle, as frail as a pebble! We are not made for battle."

"Neither is a Pearl, and look where that Renegade is! Fighting alongside Quartzes! Sister, please!"

The Pearl listens. And when the shouting has stopped, the Pearl returns.

The Pearls await.

The Pearl signals at her siblings to come closer. They all comply, obedient. When they're done, tightly knit together in a circle, the Pearl shows them.

The gemstone on her right hand glows gold. On it, images flash by. The Moissanite Twins. Their discussion. Words. Things she does not know how to say. The projection finishes. The Pearls stand, in silence.