Hackmanite was atop a hillside in a certain field, where no one but her came to. The field was filled with flowers, which seemed to glow in the moonlight. The large moon was full in the sky, and sparkled on the gems skin.
She had a grin on her face as she tended to the blooming flowers around here. She seemed completely blissed, and content with his position on the ground. She wouldn't notice anyone enter the field unless they came and tapped her on the shoulder.
Bixbite was stuck in her harp, biding her time inside her gems, nestled amongst the dirt, acutely aware of flower petals directly over her damaged gem. It wasn't a very exciting place to be, and she had long grown tired of it over the course of the last 4000 years here. She had been buried here, by who, she did not know. All she knew was that it was a warrior. Someone who intended to come back to retrieve their spoil of war. Someone who never returned to that spot, that had so long ago soaked with the tears, the pleas for life, of gems long destroyed or corrupted. The soil now sprang flowers each year. Nobody seemed to have planted them, they just came and went, a constant in the field in which she lay. As scheduled as the falling of snow, or the curtains of rain. Nothing felt quite like it did so many years ago. When the soil was still tainted with innocent gems, which had been long forgotten or long retrieved. The gold of her handles buried just beneath the soil, where flowers still managed to grow through her harp strings, roots curling around her like the embrace of a friend who vanished a long, long time ago.
The tall, feminine gem stood and stretched, intending on going back to her base for the night. Maybe get some fake sleeping in. She plucked about three of the flowers from the ground, before walking away from her spot. She tucked the flowers into the side of her dress before almost tripping over a lump in the ground. It looked as if something was buried there.
She slowly pushed the dirt off of the harp, and smiled. "Pretty..." She mumbled, examining the instrument.
Bix felt hands brush her and lift the harp. She quickly plucked her own strings, creating a crystal bloom of flowers, and mentally shook herself. Wrong melody. She tried to think, the melody for projecting from her gem, anything to communicate. She played a soothing melody which showed an image from the war, specifically of the weapon that had pierced her, though obviously now out of commission somewhere else now. She frantically played notes, trying to communicate her sentience. Asking for help in a way.
She played a soft sad melody, and another image played, one of her gems both falling to the edge of a beach, off a cliff. Her gem was cracked against a rock, the other left laying unharmed in the sand.
Bix felt a hot light wash over her, her body suddenly falling and nearly disappearing completely, her lower legs still visible protruding from the flowers that covered the ground. She let out a small squeak into the soft dirt she had been encased in for so long.
"Bixbite. " She replied, turning to the larger gem, having to tilt her head up almost 90 degrees to see her fully. She tapped the diamond on the side of her head, a visor going over her face, old gem tech, precursor to what they have now, unbenonst to Bix.