#also marina isn't her usual bubbly self yet

[theashemarie]

For the Pearlina request, how about Marina's first day/night staying with Pearl? Or for some angst, nightmares.

send me pearlina requests! - [STILL OPEN]

This one is about double the length I wanted it to be, but I’m happy with it. No real romance because they basically just met, but it was super fun and interesting to explore their early friendship. 

The house is huge, bigger than she’s read about, with a never-ending stream of rooms. “They’re all for storage,” Pearl jokes as she leads Marina up the stairs. Marina, weak in the knees at the sheer size of this place and the fact that she’s free, that she no longer has to struggle to survive underground, in a society that only wanted her for what they could get out of her, how much they could control her, laughs a choked laugh. The banister is smooth under her hand and she can picture Pearl sliding down it as a child, free as... Well, free as an Inkling.

Pearl offers her the first room they come across, for which Marina is thankful. She can’t imagine going further into this labyrinthine house, can’t imagine navigating her way around without Pearl to guide her, and she gratefully follows Pearl inside after she swings the door open grandly. “This is one of the smaller guest rooms,” Pearl says, glancing nervously between Marina and the canopied, queen-sized bed. The room is massive compared to Marina’s standards, with enough space for her to have sparing practice if she so desired. The bed is large enough for three of her, and what little she can see of the bathroom is also far too large—a tub the size of her room back home, a sink she could swim in, and a shower that could double as a second bedroom.

Marina isn’t sure if Pearl has the capacity to look sheepish. In the short time they’ve known each other, Pearl has made no indication that she feels anything other than smug self-confidence, but here she is rubbing the back of her head, watching Marina look over the room with something that looks a lot like apprehension. “You can say you don’t like it,” Pearl assures her. “It’s small, but you said you don’t like big spaces, right?”

She did say that, long ago, when they first ran into each other and Pearl caught Marina laying on her back and staring at the wide blue sky. Well, what she actually said was that she wasn’t used to large spaces, but she was actually grateful that Pearl misheard. It’s easier to explain not liking large spaces than not being used to them, considering she’s pretending to be an inkling. She still can’t believe that Pearl believed that, but then, what would Pearl assume she was, other than an inkling? It’s not like octolings are running around on the surface.

“Yeah,” Marina answers, and steps forward slowly. The plush carpet gives way underfoot, absorbing the impact of her bare feet like a cloud. She’s never felt something so soft. “It’s perfect,” she adds as she wiggles her toes.

“Great!” Pearl whoops. “Not that I was worried,” she adds quickly. Then, seeing Marina’s bemused smile, she begins to back away. “Anyway,” she claps her hands, “I’m gonna go scope out what’s for dinner. Make yourself comfortable.”

+

Dinner is quiet because it’s just the two of them and the giant house. The cook goes home before they finish, and Pearl assures Marina that usually there’s a butler, but she gave him the day off. “Because I didn’t want to overwhelm you...” she says, and then adds, “Because most people are overwhelmed, not because you’re weird or anything. If you are overwhelmed.”

Marina may not be from around here, but she can tell when someone’s accustomed to being stared at. Pearl has a lot of money, and despite her cool, calm demeanor, it’s caused some problems in her life, socially. Marina wonders just how many people have used her.

Of course, Marina is used to having nothing, so she’s not exactly sympathetic to Pearl on the whole, but she is sympathetic to the fact that she’s not sure who she can trust. More than anything, Pearl seems like she wants to impress, as if she’s not used to being so worried that someone will like her home, and that’s touching in a weird way. Marina doesn’t have high standards, but to have Pearl so worried makes her feel a little flattered. And embarrassed, mostly because she doesn’t want their friendship to start off like this.

So, they eat dinner quietly, with just the clack of silverware between them. Marina can’t identify what the food is, but it’s delicious. She studiously ignores the way Pearl keeps peeking at her.

Eventually, the food is eaten, and the dishes need cleaning, so Pearl leads her into the kitchen. It’s just as large as everything else, with lots of chrome and granite. Distantly, she wonders after a dish washer, then realizes that she can hear it gently whirring, somewhere else in the room—probably full from the cooking. Carefully, they wash—or rather, Pearl washes and Marina dries. Marina gets the feeling that Pearl hasn’t done this that often, considering how she uses way too much soap and stares at the plate too hard. Marina doesn’t intrude though, because she knows how that feels, to want to do something for yourself.

That, or Pearl just doesn’t want to seem like too much of a spoiled princess.

They couldn’t be more different really, and that’s what makes this all so interesting and new. Marina is all self-sufficiency and survival while Pearl is all self-indulgence and ease, and that’s intriguing. Marina can’t quite wrap her head around all this new world, but she imagines that Pearl will help her navigate. In return, she’ll give Pearl the friendship that she so desperately desires.

And, maybe, just maybe, they’ll make a little music together too.

“Let’s get you in something comfortable,” Pearl says, apropos of nothing, once they’ve put the dishes away. She looks Marina up and down, at her cheap, thrift store clothes of tight jeans and a thick t-shirt. “This is a sleepover, after all.”

Marina has no idea what that means.

+

They end up on the couch, watching something Marina can’t make sense of. It’s loud and in her face, like a lot of surface culture is, and it’s exciting, exhilarating. She sits up straight with her legs pulled into her chest, dressed comfortably in one of Pearl’s oversized sweatshirts (well, it’s oversized on Pearl; on Marina it fits okay). Pearl, meanwhile, is leaning back, head lolled over to one side, and every now and then she speaks along with the characters on screen, as if she’s seen it a thousand times.

It’s a cute movie, with animated animals and plenty of songs. Pearl says something about it being a remake of a human flick, which explains some of the weird dialogue. Mostly, Marina is glad to have something to relax to. She hasn’t felt this at ease since... Well, she can’t quite remember when. But now, she’s got Pearl’s overstuffed, soft couch and a children’s movie to keep her company, convince her that maybe everything will be okay. Pearl is a comforting presence at her side, and Marina can’t help but begin to hope that things will fall into place.

Then, of course, there’s a distant pop! somewhere nearby. It’s not loud, but it is familiar: an explosion, and Maria can almost feel the smoke in her nose, smell the acrid tartness, and she jumps. Not too much, just a tiny jerk, but her hearts are hammering in her chest and she can feel her teeth clench, the muscles in her jaw tightening. She prepares for the assault, can picture a swarm of inklings hammering on the windows, primed with bombs, inkzookas, inkstrikes, every weapon imaginable.

She covers her ears as the pop comes again, louder, and her hands are shaking.

“Marina?” she hears Pearl, and feels a soft, unafraid hand lay itself on her shoulder. Marina almost rears back, but some rational part of her brain keeps her place, allows her to be comforted. Pearl pats her shoulder awkwardly, ignorant of that fact that Marina could snap her half in she so desired.

“It’s just the splatfest fireworks,” Pearl assures her, as if that will help, as if Marina knows what that is. “I totally forgot that was tonight. Early bird versus night owl. Kinda dumb if you ask me—everyone I know is a night owl.”

Marina tries very hard to focus on her words, trying to ignore a loud crackle of fireworks followed by multiple consecutive concussive booms, and she mostly succeeds. “Splatfest...” she mumbles, trying out the unfamiliar word. “It’s like... a fight?”

Pearl gives her a critical look. “Wow, you totally weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t from around here. Yeah, everyone is given two options and you pick one. Then there’s this giant rager in the plaza and everyone dukes it out. The Squid Sisters perform and everything! It’s killer. We totally have to headline a splatfest someday.”

Marina tries to imagine that—performing in front of all those people, with all that activity, under those lights. But then she gets to the part where there will definitely be more fireworks, right overhead, closer than ever, and she very nearly backs out of the whole thing, panics and tells Pearl actually, I don’t think I can do this whole singing thing after all— But Pearl is still talking.

“Everyone will love us! You have a great voice and I can hype the crowd! And you can do that sexy walk of yours, that hip swing. I’ll jump a lot because that’s what you do when you’re hyping the crowd. Have you ever been to a concert? I used to headline a punk band and let me tell you: they were hype. I know how to do my shit. Our splatfests will be the best—”

Marina can’t help it. Maybe it’s the stress or the panic, but she laughs. Pearl’s earnest spiel is charming and relaxing all at once because she’s so certain—so certain that they’ll make it, that they’ll get that coveted spot as the headlining act, so confident that they’ll sell, and everyone will love their music. It’s intoxicating in a way, that confidence, and it also helps Marina feel a little better about the future. Pearl is security, with all that certainty packed into her small body, and Marina can’t help but smile.

Of course, the fireworks will be another matter, but she has a feeling that Pearl will help her get through those.