Chapter Text
“How long has Barlow been feeling this way?” Bismuth asked, slamming her hammer fist down onto a hot blade.
“A while actually,” Bosco meekly replied, dipping his newly molded axe into a ice water bath.
“How come?”
“I don’t know, I think he’s had enough of everyone,”
“Ha, not enough of me!” She joked, “As much as I love the guy, I barely see her,”
“Yeah well he’s been intentionally avoiding everyone,” Bosco pulled out an ax and placed it onto the forging table. Bismuth nodded with approval as she placed it in her collection. “I think the war is starting to mess with her head,”
“Barlow? Messed up in the head? Kid, don’t make me laugh,” Bismuth leaned against the table while Bosco leaned over the table, sighing.
“I thought the same thing. Barlow always has everything under control. I wish I could be half of what he is but I can’t help but notice how sad he looks. I tried bringing it up to Ma and she told me she would talk to her about it but I don’t even see them on the same base,”
“We’re talking about Rose, right?” Bosco nodded and Bismuth just chuckled, looking at the ground. “Yeah, Rose has never been the best at confronting things head on. Actually she is in a bit of a tussle with Pearl right now,” Bosco growled, running his fingers through his hair.
“It’s always because of god damn Rosemary!” He snarled.
“Who damn Rosemary?”
“She is always doing some crap she’s not supposed to. Everytime she does something, our mothers fight and now Barlow is getting involved in those fights. My family is falling apart and it’s because of her!”
“Woah, woah, chill out lil’ man. Rosemary is not ruining anything,”
“Well it seems like it,” he muttered
“You got a short fuse for a temper, I’ll tell you that much,” she lowered her head to his level. “You know Rosie always been a little weirdo,”
“I know, but she just took it too far this time,” he said, looking the other way.
“I don’t think so,” Bosco turned around shocked, “If she didn’t do something about that cat, she would be at fault for a litter of dead cubs. I dunno know about you but I’d rather have a dead cat in my hands than dead kids on my mind,” Bosco stared confused at Bismuth and her nonchalant attitude.
“But…she shattered something in a way. That cougar is dead and it’s never coming back,” Bismuth shrugged, still smiling.
“I feel like y’all are getting too hung up on that dead cat,”
“She killed the life we’re fighting to protect! What’s the point in starting a war if the very creatures that were protecting keep dying because of her recklessness?” Bismuth laughed, grabbing his shoulder.
“Uh? Us? Now I’m not saying she should get away with it—I think Rosemary got some serious issues—But she had every right to protect our gems! Think about it. That cougar could’ve eaten those lil’ Amethysts up and it's not like it’s gonna feel bad about. It’s gonna go on with its life and keep killing our kids. Rosemary saved four future warriors, builders, and families. Like it or not; our lives shouldn’t be risked for an organic being that doesn't understand they’re being protected by us,” Bosco grew squeamish under Bismuth's grasp and scratched his neck. She let go but Bosco’s brows remained furrowed.
“I guess,” he sounded unconvinced.
“Listen munchkin, a lot of us are dying. A lot,” her voice lowered as she grew serious and focused on Bosco’s expression. “We’re dwindling in numbers and unlike Homeworld, we can’t mass produce soldiers and what not. These little gemlings are the only thing keeping our numbers from going into the negatives,” her voice strained and Bosco looked up.
“You’re right,”
“We still have a lot of us and we should always stay mad when we drop a number. But we gotta keep our gemlings safe. Would you rather your mother let a cougar live instead of you and your siblings?” Bosco flinched.
“No, of course not,” his breathless voice made Bismuth smile again.
“Then there you have it,” Bosco grabbed his shirt, tightening it around where his leather arm warmers held his sleeves in place. He never thought of it that way? Why would he? Surely, as much as his mother adored the life on Earth, she loves her children more.
“But doesn’t that mean we should shatter gems if we’re ever threatened?” Bismuth thought for a while as she grabbed a piece of iron and placed it in a melting pot. Bosco watched her turn her hand into a spoon-like shape and began to stir.
“Maybe,” she finally said. She looked over her shoulder. “Do you think we should?”
“Honestly…I think there needs to be a line drawn in the sand somewhere,” he said hesitant but Bismuth look of agreement encouraged him. “We can’t keep letting these Homeworld scum get away with what they’re doing,”
“Exactly!”
“Why should they live when our friends and children are dead?” His voice loud and confident, something Bosco rarely found himself feeling.
“My thoughts exactly,” Bismuth almost murmured, patting his back. As much as Bosco agreed, he remained quiet and unsure again. Reality hitting him.
“But, we can’t just shatter gems. It’s wrong. It’s the only thing keeping us separated from them,” Bosco looked up at Bismuth for a response but she didn’t even notice him move. She remained concentrated on melting her iron.
“Well, I don’t think so,” she said, nonchalantly. “We do a lot of things differently here. Besides, why stand on a moral pedestal when we could stand as victors?”
That did sound nice. It would sound nice, they’re supposed to win after all. But Bosco hated to admit it but he was scared of killing. He was scared of death. What happens after a gem is shattered? He hasn’t even poofed. The closest thing to death he’s been to is unconsciousness. Homeworld gems don’t even care about themselves to think about that. He’d hate for their last thoughts to be of free will and of fear of the other side. He’d hate to be the cause of that thought process.
But he also hates Homeworld. He hates that no matter how well he can integrate into their hierarchy; he'll still be shattered.
For being of free will to dress and sound the way he does. To add a hair on his chin and arms would make him stand out therefore disobedient.
For his small but rumbling voice to be seen as trying to be superior to his masters. Even if he were to give all of what made him, him: He would be nothing but a servant, a toy.
He couldn’t tell what he hates more. Homeworld or Death.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that way,” Bosco finally said, his voice confident and gravelly. Bismuth nodded, messing up his hair. He looked down at a cast she had made. Something that looked like it was meant to be a cone with a sharp tip. “What are we working on again?” He said, confused. She then pulled a large cylinder that was size of Bismuth's fore-arm. It had a flat side like it was meant to rest on something and the star insignia on the round side of it.
“I got a new idea for a weapon that outta knock the armor off of you,” she said, her voice low and almost sinister it made Bosco chuckle. “I just need some leather to make the straps. It suppose to rest on your arm,”
“Knew it,” Bosco smiled, smugly.
“Think you can get me some leather?” She raised her brow and Bosco nodded adamantly.
“I’ll see if I have any left over,”