Day by day, Phos’ quest for purpose and identity reaps fresh disappointments. The most common, unquestioned identity for these gems is “warrior,” and so Phos throws themself into battle, hoping to earn the praise of their fellow lustrous. Even as Phos’ actual strengths and virtues (a kind heart, an inquisitive mind, an effortless ability to make their friends laugh) solidified their bond with Amethyst, they struggled to lift a sword and run a patrol route, desperate to prove they could somehow overcome the fundamental reality of their atomic structure. And in the end, the results were disastrous. Struck silent by the terror of the Lunarians, Phos proved utterly incapable of aiding Amethyst in battle, and was ultimately rescued by the increasingly exasperated Bort.
Land of the Lustrous is constructed around one vast, tragic central irony: Phos’ consistent inability to successfully contribute to this society, which again and again demonstrates the failures not of Phos, but of the society they inhabit. Every effort Phos pursues is an act of unintended rebellion against this world order. By force of necessity, they are questioning and challenging whether this system of value assignment is just, kind, or necessary, all simply because they themselves cannot fit within this system. There is a tragedy in realizing you do not belong, but also a certain kind of hope. So long as a person like Phos or Cinnabar exists, so long as this system produces people who are not valued by its metrics, there will always be dissidents, always be irritants, always be the chance that the erosion of agency and desire eventually brings the system to its knees.
This tragic irony is vividly on display as the gems recover from the Lunarian attack, Rutile tenderly reconstructing Amethyst while Phos lies prostrate in a bow of apology. In response to this, Amethyst offers an unexpected apology right back, stating that they shouldn’t have been trying to show off, and that they must have scared Phos terribly. When we first met Amethyst, they seemed somewhat cold and distant towards the other gems, and unaware of how their own behavior might seem off-putting. In the space of a few days spent with Phos, Amethyst has learned to express vulnerability and directly communicate their feelings, successfully expressing the sense of companionship they feel towards their fellow gems. Phos’ ability to engender sensitivity and goodwill among these gems cannot be measured by this society’s metrics, but it nonetheless enriches the entire community, instilling them with a sense of communal love and responsibility that goes beyond their shared desire for survival.
But as always, Phos cannot recognize or take pride in this unquantifiable strength. Racing away in embarrassment, they spy Cinnabar in the midst of patrol, and hide in shame rather than calling out. “What would I even say right now,” Phos wonders, trapped as always in the pragmatic, utility-oriented worldview of gem society. Simply saying that you’re still trying to help Cinnabar, letting them know you’re still in their thoughts, would likely be enough to make Cinnabar feel valued. In fact, statements like that are precisely what Phos is best at. But because Phos does not have any concrete, tangible progress to present to Cinnabar, they feel like they have nothing to offer – worse, that they don’t even have the right to speak to Cinnabar. When all personal connection outside of these utility-oriented partnerships is defined as frivolous, it’s no surprise that someone like Phos, who excels in these allegedly frivolous pursuits, feels like their existence is inherently shameful.
The approach of winter and the gems’ usual hibernation offers another illustration of this society’s limited imagination regarding value, and how gems work to find purpose and satisfaction in spite of those strictures. Dia’s question as to whether the gems need such elaborate gowns to sleep in is framed as a joke, but nonetheless demonstrates the tailor’s own form of rebellion against pure utility. This gem’s assigned role is “sew and maintain the clothes for the group,” nothing more or less. There is no clause in that job description regarding the importance of good fashion, but this gem clearly yearns to express their own passion through their work, and has found an excuse to do so while still residing in the space afforded to them by their official duties. Even the gems that are actually valued by this society often engage in their own quiet rebellions, testing the limits of how much individuality can be grafted onto their utilitarian directives.
As the other gems submit to the entreaties of the fickle winter sun, falling into a deep collective hibernation, Phos finds they simply aren’t that tired this year. With their new legs of seaborn crystal, they are no longer dependent on the light of the sun for energy, and thus join the briefly solidified Antarcticite as the community’s winter protector. As appropriate for an episode so preoccupied with isolation, Phos’ integration into this winter world is evoked through long silences and empty spaces, figures isolated in austere landscapes of fresh fallen snow. The quiet isolation of this episode proves Phos’ value and vibrancy through the inverse; Phos is most alive when they are gleefully toying with their fellow gems, and those fellows often seem most alive when they’re engaging with Phos.
Granted, most of those other gems have had years and years to grow accustomed to Phos’ eccentricities. As the accustomed sole protector of the gems’ winter sanctuary, Antarcticite does not see in Phos a kindred outsider. They see a failure, a gem who will only ever be “fickle and aimless,” so much so that they can’t even do something as simple as falling asleep. We see in Phos’ blank reaction how accustomed they are to this treatment, but in the context of Phos’ actions all through this season, the words still sting. Even when we are attempting to change ourselves for the better, we still carry our past selves alongside us, and those around us seldom let us forget it.
The people around us do not see the person we are attempting to become nearly so clearly as the person we used to be, for obvious reasons. As a result, our past can become an anchor dragging us down, with both our own doubts and the assumptions of those around us urging us to embrace failure, and accept that what others think we are is all we can ever be. Self-improvement can take more than just working diligently to improve yourself – if those around us do not believe in us as well, it is that much harder to make lasting change.
For Phos, even Antarcticite’s admonishments are preferable to the fatigued indifference of the summer gems. Reflecting on their failure to assist Amethyst, Phos admits that “I didn’t get in any trouble. That’s what’s so frustrating I can’t sleep.” If Phos’ companions chastised them for failing, that would imply they believed Phos was capable of better. The fact that they didn’t punish Phos is what’s worst of all, as it implies they have no hope of Phos ever being useful. Phos wants them to chastise the person they are trying to become – but they only see the person Phos has been in the past, and have made it clear they have no hopes or expectations that the Phos they recognize will ever be of value. Realizing they’d already been disregarded by their peers was actually what prompted Phos to test their limits, and attempt the arduous task of staying awake all through the winter.
Hearing this earnest confession, Antarcticite is forced to acknowledge their image of Phos was cynical and incomplete. And so they give Phos the only thing that matters: a portion of Antarcticite’s duties, and the accompanying sense of responsibility and value. Their relationship remains strained over the following weeks, as Phos slug-walks their way to base competency while Antarcticite leaps gracefully overhead. Sometimes the two seem almost like kindred souls, as when Antarcticite confides that “we low hardness gems have nothing if not our courage,” affirming their mutual isolation and unsuitability for this system. At other times, Antacticite’s brittle pride shoulders between them, their hard-earned responsibilities prompting them to respond to Phos’ “there are things I just can’t do” with a dismissive “because you don’t try.” But even Antarcticite’s harsh words are preferable to the summer gems’ indifference; with every call for improvement comes the attendant assurance that Phos can improve, a gesture of faith towards the most luckless of gems.
Perhaps it is precisely that faith which ultimately leads to Phos’ next catastrophe. Though Antarcticite seems genuinely proud of Phos’ progress, their praise is accompanied by an idle reflection that “I can’t help but wish Phos had arms to match those legs.” With such a request imprinted by the one person who truly believes in them, Phos wanders out to the ice flows, and is greeted by a strange voice calling from beneath the waves. “Surrender your arms,” the voice cries, assuring Phos that “you won’t get worse. You must change.” Phos ultimately pushes back against this voice, but a brief stumble sends them beneath the waves, and the damage is done. For better or for worse, Phos’ arms are stolen, and the next stage of their transformation begins.
This article was made possible by reader support. Thank you all for all that you do.