A gasp of breath like a drowning woman, and the world comes back into focus. The world, such as it is -- green-black sky stretching out to infinity, her feet poised on the surface of fathomless water streaked with brilliant shades of jade. The effect is much like oil twisting in the sunlight.
She only has a moment to absorb it before the weight nearly wrests her arms from their sockets.
She yelps. Braces. Wrenches against the weight with all her strength. The water chains twine around her wrists, over her hands, two breaths away from snapping.
They can't snap. She knows what lies beneath.
This is where anyone seeking to recruit will find her. The green-swirled water will hold them as well . . . but only barely.
B2
Space is nothing new to her. Not even the shape of the ship, seeming no stranger than what her own people would choose. After a ship with the shape and dexterity of a hand, a guitar seems only one step further. Away from the windows, away from the darting starfields that comprise the scenery, Lapis pulls her limbs close, buries her face, and lets herself give into despair.
Why is she doing this? How can she do this? She's hurling forward through space into the unknown, toward a boy who doesn't even remember her, towards others who will not welcome her. She's not strong. She has no gifts in this realm. She's no good with people, nor a brilliant tactician. She's just Lapis, barely living day to day, moment to moment on a heart that falters just as quickly as it makes up its mind. What use is that to anyone at all?
She remains as small as she can, pressed into the corner seat she's claimed, burrowed inward. Now and again her shoulders tremble, then go quiet.
Lapis Lazuli | Steven Universe | B1 and B2
A gasp of breath like a drowning woman, and the world comes back into focus. The world, such as it is -- green-black sky stretching out to infinity, her feet poised on the surface of fathomless water streaked with brilliant shades of jade. The effect is much like oil twisting in the sunlight.
She only has a moment to absorb it before the weight nearly wrests her arms from their sockets.
She yelps. Braces. Wrenches against the weight with all her strength. The water chains twine around her wrists, over her hands, two breaths away from snapping.
They can't snap. She knows what lies beneath.
This is where anyone seeking to recruit will find her. The green-swirled water will hold them as well . . . but only barely.
B2
Space is nothing new to her. Not even the shape of the ship, seeming no stranger than what her own people would choose. After a ship with the shape and dexterity of a hand, a guitar seems only one step further. Away from the windows, away from the darting starfields that comprise the scenery, Lapis pulls her limbs close, buries her face, and lets herself give into despair.
Why is she doing this? How can she do this? She's hurling forward through space into the unknown, toward a boy who doesn't even remember her, towards others who will not welcome her. She's not strong. She has no gifts in this realm. She's no good with people, nor a brilliant tactician. She's just Lapis, barely living day to day, moment to moment on a heart that falters just as quickly as it makes up its mind. What use is that to anyone at all?
She remains as small as she can, pressed into the corner seat she's claimed, burrowed inward. Now and again her shoulders tremble, then go quiet.