what if we went to the moon😳😳and we were both rocks🤭🤭

[globs]

[ it's a lot of information to take in all at once, and so suddenly. The moon, the Lunarians. Their intentions. Sensei's part in it. Above all else, Phos's return and subsequent desire to go back to the moon.

After they'd tried so hard to stop Cinnabar. After Cinnabar had prayed so hard to stop them. And now Phosphophyllite is here, spinning a tale too bizarre for even Lapis to have come up with. Normally, Cinnabar would prefer to have a few years to process this information before forming a proper opinion on it, but Phos seems to determined to leave them with only a few minutes to make up their mind. Because now Phos wants to involve them, too. (They always seem to.) ]

... What happens after that? If your plan works? [ a beat. ] What happens to Sensei and the others?

[ every inclusion in their body is telling them this is a bad idea. The moon is a void, a hole that sucks gems away, never to return - a hive of villains, coming to hurt them and their friends. Setting foot there is the same as "death" for an animal.

And yet.

They have to ask; they can't turn away from this. Because Phos came for them. And as much as they wish that didn't mean anything - and as much as they pretend it doesn't - it means quite a lot. ]

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[globs]

Sensei never hurt me.

[ There's a bit of a bite in their words this time. They can't help it. In all the time they've been alive, Sensei is the only one who's treated them as a normal gem - he wanted to include them. Being here is Cinnabar's decision, not his. They suppose Phos wouldn't understand - they clearly wouldn't, having bitten the proverbial hand that feeds so many times now - and Cinnabar can't help the twinge of resentment they feel then, either. It's enough to make them want to turn their back on this altogether --

almost.

But not quite. Because Sensei is no longer the sole inhabitant of the island that wants Cinnabar to be a part of his story. The mention of suppressing their poison makes their fingers clench a little more tightly where they're gripping their sleeve. ]

And end up like you? [ it's a cruel thing to say, they know, but they don't really care. It's a real fear. Still, Cinnabar looks troubled. ] You shouldn't trust them so much.

[trepidate]

[ It's impossible not to feel the barb of Cinnabar's words, visible in the rippling across their alloy even as Phos tries not to betray it on their face. Nothing about their words is out of line, and maybe that's part of why Phos can't shake them as easily. How have they ended up, chasing the truth to the moon and back? It must not look good in Cinnabar's eyes, and Phos feels a swell of indignation grip them ]

You—-! [ The word comes as a shout that's followed by an abrupt pause as they make a conscious effort to reel themselves back in; there's not going to be any reasoning with Cinnabar if they can't hold it together.

Quieter, but no less direct: ]

You're the one who should understand more than anyone else. I know you don't want to spend another thousand years like this. [ The memory they're digging for here is muddled by every missing piece of themselves, but the vague form it still takes is enough to grasp onto. Isn't it some struggle and similarity that made Phos promise to find a better purpose for Cinnabar?

Rather, isn't this that purpose? ]

I don't want to put so much trust in them, but that's why I need you. You can see more clearly than me, and you're always so reasonable. They wouldn't be able to fool you about anything.

[globs]

[ there's always a kind of bitter relief in seeing their words hit their mark; Cinnabar doesn't relish being unkind, but it does make them feel like they're at least being listened to - and that the interaction might end soon, though that's not the case here. They aren't sure how this will end, and they aren't sure how they want it to end, either. Any relief is subsequently dampened by Phos's entirely accurate response, though. They tell themself again that what they want doesn't matter. It didn't then, and it still doesn't know.

Strange, then, that Phos cares about it. ]

And if I'm not fooled, would you believe my judgement over theirs? Over your own?

[ they've got some serious doubts; they glance off to the side, continuing in a murmur: ]

You won't. You never have. Last time, too...

[trepidate]

[ What is it about Cinnabar that's making this so difficult? It's not that Phos didn't already prepare for countering their pessimistic nature when the time came to seek them out, or having to answer to every shrewd observance they make of every hole in their plan. They anticipated all of that, yet it's these hushed accusations that have thrown them for a loop. ]

Last time... [ The words are abrupt, stumbling from their mouth with no direction as Phos spins that last phrase through their head over and over again. Has it been so many times that they've let them down? And which time was the "last time"? Racing through all of their past encounters only serves to prove Cinnabar's point, Phos realizes with widened eyes.

Trying to compose themselves and control the increasing give of their alloy, they're scrambling to set this right. ]

I know my ideas always good ones, and that I've said so many foolish things to you even up to now. I don't follow through with things I've said, and I'm always making mistakes. I know that you don't have a reason to trust me, especially now. [ It's their own naivete that sets them up for disappointing Cinnabar each time, after all. Sounding bittersweet, they continue: ]

But why else would I keep seeking you out all this time? I want your judgment to keep us on the right path, and I would trust your reasoning above everything else. Please trust that, at least.. and please come to the moon with me.