They try to follow their muscle memory as the pedestal's light drags them upwards, but it's been so long since before that even their subconscious knowledge has decayed into a vague, niggling sense of I'm doing it wrong.
And, as they find out when they're launched bodily from the stream of light, they are indeed doing it wrong.
The planet's surface comes up to greet them just a little too enthusiastically, and a very different muscle memory takes over:
They kick.
The impact rattles them to the core, but they don't feel the agony of crushed bones that they were half expecting. They crack open an eye, and the satisfaction of their perfect three-point landing is lost to the sight before them.
The world is... grey. Broken. Crumbling.
They come apart, holding hands as they begin picking their way across what might once have been farmland. Lifeless plants crumble to dust under their feet, rocky soil refuses to grip onto their bare soles.
This is what they've always seen in the sky, every day on the jungle planet. A dead place.
They take a breath.
Except they can't.
They're Stevonnie again in an instant, sprinting through the ashes as their vision gradually closes around them, scanning the landscape for a flash of white that they know they'll never be able to reach. Stars burst in their eyes and they let out a whimper, finally spotting another one of the pedestals as the world contracts, walls them in.
They trip, and the last of their oxygen is forced from their lungs by the too-hard ground. They can't make it.
No!
They stand up. Their left leg was damaged by the fall, but that won't matter anyway if they die here. Their lungs tighten painfully and colors dance around them, a harsh buzz fills their ears, their stomach threatens to empty itself as their gem glows, far more ready to split them than they are to be split.
They won't make it all the way, but they will take the next step.
And the next.
The next.
Next.
N-
The next nextnextnextnextNever the last step, but always the nextThey refuse to die hereSteven and Connie, Stevonnie, they have a-
For the first time in a long time...
They don't know much.
They know that their name is Stevonnie.
They have been for five years.
They are Steven and Connie together.
They love themself and themselves.
They are a promise.
Memories of the past minutes well up, and they blink.
Well, no they don't. Not for lack of trying. But one thing at a time.
They didn't make it. But they're still aware. Perhaps not alive, but certainly coherent enough to think.
They're lost in a sea of senselessness. The silence is deafening, the darkness so deep they can't tell if there is anywhere to be. Their nerves pick up no sensation - no temperature, no pull of gravity, no pain.
Is this the afterlife?
They wish they had a guiding light.
It's granted.
A heart. More specifically, the heart-circuit from their gem. The one that lets them choose to be Stevonnie or Steven and Connie.
It's still whole. Still glowing.
Relief pours into their unfeeling veins. They still have themself and themselves. That's all they need.
They grasp for their senses. Sight is almost there, but they think the heart is more in their mind's eye than anything. What they need is something concrete. Something they can use to move. Even if it's just a hand.
They wish. Their non-vision goes white for a moment, and it's granted.
They remember how everything looked, before they fell and came here. They remember sprinting towards the pedestal. They remember exactly where in their gem the heart-circuit is positioned. And from that, they think they know where they're going.
Their hand contacts dusty ground, and they pull.
They shift.
They pull again. They shift again.
Pull, shift. Pull, shift.
They're cruising!
The pedestal looms over them, they imagine. They can feel the incline growing steeper - not from their inactive sense of balance, but because they keep slipping backwards. With each pull, they now have to sweep away the dead grass ahead of them, to avoid sliding back down on the next pull.
Pull, shift, sweep. Pull, shift, sweep.
If the seconds pass, they don't know. They wish they had a sense of time. It isn't granted. Apparently there are some limitations in place for their power.
Pull, shift, sweep.
They curse in their mind when their finger bumps hard against something solid. A cliff? Or a pedestal?
They scoot closer, dragging their fingers across the surface. Solid, smooth and faceted: a pedestal.
It's a difficulty to get onto the top, but they manage it eventually with only a bruised knuckle to show for it. Should they risk a flight? Where would they even go? Surely staying on this planet, now that they seemingly don't need to breathe, is safer than going back to the jungle.
But they can't just stay here either, that wouldn't help anything. Are there other pedestals on this planet? A whole network of them going between planets? Who put them here? Are they in use?
Stevonnie doesn't know.
They develop a system.
They fly to a random pedestal on the planet (it's actually pretty easy to stay in the stream as long as they stay still), wait for something to happen, and if they get bored before that happens - which is every time - they explore.
They've learned a few things. They can leave the image of their heart-circuit to rest on top of the pedestal as a marker, so they can always find their way back. They've learned to skitter on their hand, rather than just drag themself along - confirmation that the hand is the only part of them that actually exists, which is more than a little disorienting, not to mention concerning.
They tried to wish back the rest of their body at first, but it hasn't worked. They can temporarily give themselves longer nails or an extra finger, but it's always temporary, and it usually takes a lot out of them.
Splitting is interesting. Steven comes out as a right hand, and Connie as a left. Like usual, Steven's the only one attached to their gem; unlike usual, it's attached by the wrist.
Pretty much everything is difficult for a hand, or even a pair of hands. Every step (for a given definition of 'step') is taken blindly, deafly, putting them in danger of falling into those chasms they once saw from all the way up in the jungle. Communication might have been difficult too, if they were anytwo but Connie and Steven, but as it is they're always in such perfect sync that communication is more of an amenity than a necessity.
If they really need to know what they're thinking, they can just be Stevonnie - which they are half the time anyway.
They miss talking to each other. Eating. Cooking. Singing songs together. They can hold hands, and they do every so often just to feel each other's warmth, but they can't really do anything like that, which is upsetting. But climbing around a dead world with no worries except the stability of the next few inches of ground is a fair amount more fun than they'd thought.
They'll have plenty of time to do the rest once they figure out how they get back to normal.
There's no real danger here beyond the sheer cliffs, which are more large than plenty, so they can easily avoid those. They don't need to breathe or eat (they think that's because their gem can provide enough energy to support them on its own), so this is a breeze compared to the jungle planet.
But they still can't help but wonder if they'll even find anything here.
They don't have a concrete sense of time.
It feels like eons that they've travelled the world together, skittering and climbing and tapping music onto each other's knuckles, set to the rhythmic pounding that might have once originated from a heart.
If that rhythm's off, they don't know about it. It's their only real indicator that time is even passing from second to second in the first place, so whether the beat is regular or not isn't exactly something that can be...
Measured...
It's Connie's idea. They have a sense of touch, and they can feel their own heartbeats. That's enough information to tell if their heart-rates have any consistency.
They begin when Steven taps Connie on the knuckle.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7...
When Steven taps again, they stop counting.
Steven gets 100.
Connie gets 121.
Divide Connie's by Steven's. 1.21.
Again.
Steven gets 200.
Connie gets 236.
Divide. 1.18.
Again.
1.20.
1.20.
1.21.
They try it after Connie skitters around, after Steven climbs walls or sweeps clean an area, and it's always the same. Connie's heart (well, her 'heart') is always beating 1.2 times as fast as Steven's! That's progress!
By the end of the next experiment, they've even managed to link Connie's heartbeat back to the rest of the world! It always takes exactly 3 heartbeats for a rock to fall a hundred hand-lengths. Their heartrate is always exactly the same! It's a clock!
So... what would they even use it for? Nothing ever needs to be measured on this planet.
Well, it was a fun challenge anyway.
It's raining. How interesting!
They haven't experienced rain since they had a full body, back in the jungle. Back then it was pretty to look at, but it always swept their long hair into their eyes, got in the way of their crafts projects and damaged their more hastily-built shelters. Some of the most dangerous jungle creatures - the snap-leg in particular - became more active during storm hours.
Now though, after they get past the inexplicable wave of panic, it's... calming.
They're safe here. They don't need to build a shelter. They don't need to patch up their clothes. They don't need to be packed up and ready to go at a moment's notice.
They don't need their sword, or their rucksack.
Maybe they can go back for them later, once they go home and gather the Crystal Gems. But for now, they're safe here.
Finally!
They never thought it would happen, but they've finally found something different. Something actually, properly different!
A pedestal.
Okay, the thing itself isn't so different. What's more interesting is its position: Ten hand-lengths from another pedestal.
This could be evidence that the pedestals are set up by an AI. An AI with bugs. Or, this pedestal in particular could be something different. Important somehow.
It's taller, they realise as they climb the first curb, and a second one shunts them back to the floor. An oddly solid, flawless floor, now that they think on it.
They circle it, trailing their pinky across the facets as they go, until they slam into a pillar of some kind. Wait, that's not quite right. It's the side of a set of stairs.
After a little repositioning they climb the stairs eagerly, but when they make it to the top, that's quickly replaced by disappointment.
It's inactive.
There's a hairline fracture running through it, they think. They can't really tell through their numb, calloused fingertips or their sanded-down nails, but there's definitely something wrong with it.
They feel the sudden urge to cry, but they can't. Because like it or not, they're still just a hand.
And they don't need to anyway! There are more pedestals, all circling the middle one!
Broken
Broken
Broken
They came from that one
Broken
Brok-fixed?
They know where they're going today!
The next landing point is similar: One larger, broken structure in the middle, several smaller pedestals surrounding it.
Did the smaller ones always have steps?
They pick the only other warp pad that works, and fly.
It's a similar room again.
Broken, broken, broken, fixed, fly.
Fixed, fly.
Broken, fixed, fly.
There's always exactly two working ones: the one they came from, and the one they leave through.
They might be walking into a trap, they suddenly realise. But if they were, they think it would have ended by now. Why lead them on this wild goose chase when it would be far easier to just... well, there's a bunch of ways that someone could kill Stevonnie. Even when they had four working limbs.
No more sad thoughts, they chastise themself, balling into a fist to hug themself the best they can.
They'll be glad when this is all over.
No more sad thoughts! They're in this-
They split apart.
They're in this together, they both know.
Weirdly enough when Stevonnie got the hang of it so quickly, Steven and Connie are both pretty terrible at flying. As often as not, they'll end up bouncing off a wall, and one time Steven even managed to bounce six times.
They both shake with mirth at the thought. They were bruised for days after the fact.
(Well, they think it was days. That was how long it took Stevonnie, when they could still count the days.)
They're thoroughly lost. They don't always land on the pedestal anymore, and while they can usually tell from contextual clues which one goes backwards, that's not always the case.
They don't mind. If they end up back where they started, they'll just try again, but more carefully. It's not like they have any reason not to.
The last room is different.
Namely, all of the other stair-pedestals are broken. They check twice, three, four times, but the only active one is the one they came from.
And the one without stairs.
This is their last stop. It must be. The air on their skin is different than that of the dead planet. Wetter, more alive. More like Earth, they think.
They've been led... somewhere. A trap? Sanctuary? People must have been looking for them. The Crystal Gems. Their enemies, if you're evil and you're on the rise.
Whichever they are though, they probably aren't expecting a walking hand to use their pedestals.
They're Stevonnie again, and they rise through the unseen light for what they hope will be the last time.
This is...
Different.
Crystal floor.
Then...
Wood?
They wince as their ring fingertip earns a splinter. Yep, that's wood alright. With a quick shapeshift it's out, and they sag a little in relief from the pain.
They take a step and hit something.
It's... solid. Not hard, it's actually a little squishy, but it's clear there's something inside-
Something scoops beneath them, lifting them off the ground, and they freeze. It's a personThey'reinaperson'shand theyneedto-
Calm.
They need to calm down. They're not dead yet.
They split forcefully apart, and the hand drops them onto the floor, unable to retain its grip on the both of them. Connie hits the floor first, panic all but forgotten as Steven sends out an image of the heart-circuit, and she sprints towards him.
Two powerful slams of feet vibrate through the wooden floor, and she breaks off her approach as Steven lands palm-up, flipping himself upright with little difficulty. They scrawl away from where they think the attacker is, and are rewarded with the even heavier bang of someone, with any luck, falling over.
The wood creaks under their enemy's shifting weight, and Steven imagines a faceless head lifting up to glare at them. Connie and Steven both send out a heart-circuit, and they break for each other without a second thought, meeting in the middle and they're Stevonnie again, ready to fight.
The enemy freezes.
Then, taps.
Left right left right left right middle, all-three, middle,
'You can count on...'
They relax. This is a friend.
A sharp pain, and their hand is gone.
And they're gone.
They don't know how long it's been, but they think they're finally ready.
They'll get it right this time.
They wish.
Their not-sight blooms into white, and then it dims into...
Breath. Warm, too warm, closed off- Homely. Still. Safe.
Sound. Deafening rings, ticks, whirrs- Voices. The rustle of sheets.
Touch. Soft. Suffocating, comfortable.
They...
They can breathe! They can hear, touch, balance, they're FREE!
Laughter bubbles up and they let it out gladly. The voices stifle from somewhere below but they don't care, they have a below!
They feel through their hand. Hands. They have two now! They lift one up, the right one, the one they walked on for so long, shuddering in delight when their balance decides it hates that idea. Balance can't tell them what to do, they lived just fine without it! They push their hands down to sit their body up, lift both hands in defiance, and...
They don't fall.
Can they... yes. They can hold hands. And they don't fall.
Tears well up through their closed eyes, and they're tempted to open them. But they don't think they could handle it.
Not... like this.
They split.
They open their eyes.
He sees Connie.
She sees Steven.
They see their hands. Steven's right and Connie's left, calloused, worn, damaged. Steven's left and Connie's right, untouched, delicate.
All of them linked. Just like they promised.
"Love every day," they remind each other, their first words in so long that their voices are hardly recognisable through the strain and the rasp.
They certainly do.