(no subject)

[furibund]

WHO: Nebula (furibund) & YOU (open and closed prompts)
WHAT: August Catchall
WHERE: Throughout the city
WHEN: August! (it's a day early but)
WARNINGS: Will updated as necessary


tinymintywolf

OOC / WILDCARD

You are always welcome to add me on plurk hopewillbloom or PM me for plotting! Discord is on request/closer CR because I will goldfish DMS. If you'd like me to make you a random starter always feel free to ask! Or to ask me to do the same. New prompts throughout the month! An easy prompt is Nebula is trying to meet people and share possible information. Something, something they gotta make Friends she guesses.

General content warnings for Nebula may be mentions of painful body modifications via torture (mental, if not in dialogue; but usually try to avoid)

Comments

OPEN!

[furibund]

COULD IT BE ANOTHER CHANGE? (THE SAMPLES)

Early August

[ Nebula's been to a great number of crappy, garbage heap planets. Sometimes you think when you've seen one you've had to have seen them all. It's a sort of routine. Pirates and looters waiting for you when you land? Always have a gun ready. The worst of them weren't even the looters but the ones who wanted to scalp prices by telling you outrageous landing fees or gunfight fees (yeah, she's had that one before). ]

[ There's a lot of it, but the point was you sort of got used to the weirdness of the many different planets across the universe. You learn to take a lot of things by the nose until it starts messing with your circuitry and prosthetics because the air's too thick and grimy. Not a problem here - yet - but a problem to think about. Her investigation of the city has shown her the technology levels are low. Lower than the Earth she'd visited even and that's a worry when your body is more or less half machine (more). ]

[ Her investigations had leant her to exploring the city purely to see what she can get her hands on in case a fight did break out. She doesn't yet know her regenerative functionalities no longer work as well - a painful discovery for later, no doubt - but she'd been quick to find a tool kit she may need and kept an eye for other things. ]

[ The 'keep an eye out' is what's led her to this store and it's obnoxiously glowing lights: Psychic Readings it reads and while it's undoubtedly not what she needs curiosity sends her to investigate anywhere. First, sneezing as the scents overwhelm certain circuitry and then grumbling under her breath as she took full stock of things. ]

[ It's a strange store. One she's not really seen anything quite like. Noted by the way she raises her brow at the "reading" she's given. Some nonsense about how the past will come up to bite her. It earns a snort. ]

Yeah. I'm sure it will.

[ Her tone remained with its usual dryness, but there's something wry and humorous in it too. Like she finds it funny that the past would come back to haunt her (because literally, she has killed her past). Rolling black eyes, she crumples the paper up and moves to toss it in a trash can: ]

Whatever people live their lives by a scrap of paper have lost their minds.

[miyagimagic]

[ When this city is usually so empty, especially for its size, it's rather easy to spot when someone is walking along the streets. Especially someone who looks so unique as Nebula - by the standards of Daniel's world, at least. It's not the first off-looking person he's seen around town though, so at least her appearance isn't too startling.

Besides, Daniel knows he really has no grounds to stand on, considering he still has the last fading remains of a bruise covering the side of his face - almost gone, but still there for now. It's left enough people gawking.

Still, after having been in the city for a while now, it feels like a good idea to get in touch with more people. See what they know, and-- well, just having someone to talk to helps to not go crazy in this ominous, empty place, right.

So when he sees Nebula exit the shop and talk to herself as she throws away that paper, Daniel approaches her, trying to give her a slight, but friendly smile. He raises a hand in greeting while using his other hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out the standard phone they all got upon arrival. He types something on it, and the phone reads out loud in a robotic voice: ]

Are you not used to psychic services?

[ There's sympathy in his expression, because.. yeah, it really is a bunch of nonsense, though he's more used to people usually already knowing as much. ]

[furibund]

[ Unfortunately, Nebula doesn't offer even a tentative smile for the man. It's nothing personal, such an act is few and far between. She does stop, brow creasing at his motion as much a movement of curiosity as it is a 'what do you want'. ]

[ For a moment, she frowns a touch as she waits and listens: ]

There were never needs for such things. Either a thing was or it wasn't and action determined it.

[ Not stars or ideas or reading. ]

[miyagimagic]

[ At least the man doesn't seem too deterred by the reaction. Maybe Nebula is just not that social, or maybe she's just on edge - Daniel wouldn't blame her, especially when he very much feels the latter himself out here in this place. ]

They have this stuff where I come from.

[ Not that he's an expert, but he knows it exists? That counts, right. ]

I wouldn't really say it's anything necessary. People tend to use it more for entertainment's sake.

OPEN!

[furibund]

ASLEEP (THE SMITHS

[ Sometimes you ask dice if your characters should have fun and the dice delivers. ]

[ By that we mean that while Nebula most often holds the braincell of the current roster of the Guardians, she is not unsusceptible to her own bouts of absurdities. Most often seen in more aggressive tendencies... Finding the bowling alley has probably unleashed something in her. Just a bit. ]

[ She'd first discovered the balls and had been surprised by their weight. ]

This could kill someone.

[ Said off-handedly to herself. Especially if you made something like a cannon to shoot at them. A possibility to take home and weaponize, probably. But while she passed up one and found a heavier one she started watching the screens, investigating. Eventually it clicks that it is supposed to be a game and since she was seemingly alone at the time... ]

[ She tries it. The first roll down the aisle goes into the gutter and earns an annoyed growl when she realizes it doesn't hit. She tries again and again and again. She gets better quickly, the pins falling with thunks and slides and she? Probably smiles a touch, just a hint as she retrieves her ball. ]

That is satisfying.

Who knew throwing heavy objects was.

[ She did. She knew. That's the joke. She found a place to throw stuff! That doesn't involve killing people (neat). ]

[broca]

[ It's all fun and games, unless you're a guy who doesn't really indulge in fun things that often, and really isn't the type to play games. The reason Broca is in this bowling alley has little to do with wanting to enjoy some recreation, and more to do with his continued exploration of this city in an increasingly desperate bid to find some hint of how to get the hell out of here.

Sometimes stopping and having fun is worth it, and he could learn a thing or two from Nebula here, who is having a great time and not even killing people in the process!

Instead he'll give her a skeptical look as she makes the comment while he's busy observing a nearby lane for any signs of something that isn't just... regular bowling alley business. ]

Not hitting the pins?

[ The thing he would assume post people find satisfying instead. ]

[furibund]

[ Ball back in hand - the mechanical one, not her normal one - she glanced up at the comment. She wasn't completely unaware she had company here, but she was fine leaving the other alone. Someone that looks mostly human, but with animal features. Not as common in the universe as others, but not a rarity. She doesn't give it a second thought before shrugging: ]

The pins have their own reward.

[ Because the sound is nice, even to her ears, as it clashes and skitters. ] It works well for target practice.

[broca]

[ Not getting stared at for once is actually kind of nice for Broca. He's gotten used to people's eyes traveling up towards the ears. In turn he'll try to return the favor by not looking too much at the very blue lady, which is not a usual people color where he's from.

He will, however, give a thoughtful look to the very heavy bowling ball in her hand right now, usual frown deepening. ]

With that?

[fanstheflames]

It's fun, isn't it?

[ pipes up the voice of someone who also knows throwing heavy objects can be fun, as long as you're not the one getting hit by heavy objects. ]

Once you get used to getting it down the middle, but even just hitting one pin feels really satisfying!

[furibund]

[ Getting hit by a bowling ball is probably fun for some people, too, Tsuruno!! She glances back, registering the voice before she sees the girl. ]

Getting it down the middle is not too difficult.

[ Ignore her first few tries. ] ... But it is satisfying to see them go down.

[fanstheflames]

It is, isn't it? When you get a strike, it's the most satisfying feeling of all!

[ COMPLETE DOMINATION.

Of pins. Just pins. ]

OPEN - ice cream man

[furibund]

ICE CREAM MAN (VAN HALEN)

[ She knew what ice cream was before arriving in the city. The others ate a whole field of it in their meetings for the Time Heist. She never really considered trying it before, but in her investigations during the heat of a summer day she did. Short of poison, she had no reason to think anything strange of the food here. They haven't been poisoned yet and the ice cream she had a few days prior hadn't done anything strange. ]

[ Which is to say as she decides between flavours (strawberry, vanilla, sherbet, chocolate, mint) she has no reason to believe that a single one of them would do anything more strange than a "brain freeze". Not that she's experienced one of those, but all the same - ]

[ She doesn't really have an idea on some of the name's meaning so she chooses one at random - but favors chocolate. Grabs the bowl and spoon and moves to find a spot outside to eat it. Not to people watch exactly, but she likes to keep an eye on the skyline and keep her ears turned to listen. ]

[ It's there she can be found in various states that she tries (and fails) to glare through. ]


[ OOC: This is a very generic open starter so if you personally want something more/special let me know. I left it open so you can either decide a listed flavor OR I can open it to rng for us! Default is chocolate, if you just want to go easy, but! I am happy to craft whatever just give me ice cream. ]

[unrequite]

[ Midnight chose chocolate too, or at least he was going to make an attempt to, but he spies someone walking past him with a bowl of creamy chocolate and decides, on the spot, that he'd like an second opinion, right now, immediately. ]

Would you kindly taste a bit of that for me? I'm torn between chocolate and Rocky Road. I'd love a second opinion, if you don't mind sharing.

[furibund]

[ The good news - or the bad news? - is the fresh bowl of ice cream in hand hasn't been dug into yet. She does have a spoonful that she'd been about to take a bite of when someone approaches. Black eyes narrowing as she frowns, tilting her head between him and back at the ice cream and asks the first thing that comes to mind: ]

Have you done something to it?

[unrequite]

No, not at all. I've just arrived here.

[ Simple, without pretense. He's telling the exact truth. However... He understands the watchfulness that comes from leading a rather dangerous life. Trust is a luxury, not a right.

He inclines his head toward her treat. ]

My apologies, I didn't mean to ruin your appetite. If you're worried, I can try it first.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ So Peter's always had a sweet tooth, and life as a space pirate did little to deter that. Quite the opposite, in fact: it allowed him to try hundreds and hundreds of weird intergalactic desserts and candies and whatever the fuck. But he never really did find a good substitute for ice cream. Sure, there was stuff that came close, but it was never the exact consistency or flavor he was hoping for. Returning to life on Earth, short as it was, had done well to remind him that, oh, actually, Terran desserts are fucking great.

So here he is: a former professional thief, spoiling his appetite for whatever his next meal is.

He was going to kill two dessert birds with one bowl by getting cookie dough ice cream, but instead he sees Nebula in his periphery. He turns to look at her to offer a quick greeting, but pulls up short when he sees the tear tracks on her face. ]

Dude. You okay?

[furibund]

[ It's a common misconception that Nebula doesn't cry. In fact, a past her would have certainly torn the throat out of anyone who so much as uttered she had. A current her might consider it before snapping at someone for bringing it up, but the more violent reactions were behind her. It's a weakness and she still doesn't want to be known for weaknesses, hasn't quite accepted them, and so while there are those who knew she could and would it is not a talked about thing. Peter is, of course, one of those people. ]

[ Except... She doesn't cry this much or without good reason. Or while eating sweets. The ice cream hasn't been abandoned because the feelings induced by it make it feel not its fault — even if it were, that'd be stupid? Why is upset over things she can only just remember?

Because they're some of the only memories of that time? ]

[ She's at least facing a wall - small graces and when she hears a voice. His stupid voice. Which could be a lot worse to hear, admittedly, like a stranger. Still unwanted when she knows that there are tears and she shoves an arm against her face to wipe them away with a growled out: ]

Leave me alone.

[ That's 'no' in Nebula speak, isn't it? ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Lightly, and with the barest thread of concern, ]

No chance in hell.

[ When did Peter take to carrying around spare rags? Probably at some point where he started realizing he was in the unenviable position of being one of the responsible members of the Guardians of the Galaxy, a title shared previously with Gamora, and now with Nebula. At some point in their many adventures, Peter probably started taking note of how often the Guardians were getting their hands messy, or how often someone was getting weird shit on their face, or how often they needed something quickly wiped clean (of dirt, of oil, of fingerprints – the possibilities are endless!).

In any case, Peter thoughtlessly frees a rag from his backpack and offers it over to her. ]

What happened?

CLOSED — gamora

[furibund]

BROTHER MY BROTHER (BLESSID UNION OF SOULS)

[ They're not meeting. Not exactly. At least one or both of them would tell you it's not intentional. ]

[ For (former) galaxy-class killers they can sometimes be silly like that. ]

[ It started with a message. The usual "are you still alive," kind that's always been synonymous with their relationship. Sometimes a response would come and sometimes the only indication the other was alive is from a blaring READ notice over the communication. It was just like that sometimes (most times). Nebula thinks they were getting better — in both directions, in both eras of Gamora. ]

[ But even if she sees them both as her sister it doesn't make it less easy to see the sister who had unknowingly given her life for you in the flesh again. The why of it is a less tangible, hurtful feeling now. They were sisters, that's all that matters. Age old anger had long ago faded and now, in her own ways, she's healing. Gamora doesn't really have that and she's not sure what to do with it — Why Rocket thinks she doesn't have her own "emotionalistical issues" is beyond her. ]

[ But all the same, it started with a message. A strong suggestion they should meet up in the words of "I'll be here," as if it's a stated fact. It is and isn't. That's how she ended up here, back in the subways of this godforesaken city. At least it's clean for an underground area, she thinks idly, too many places like it weren't. ]

[ Wonders in the same minute way what it would be like with more people like there should be and dismisses it as quickly when the figure comes into view. ]

[ For a different Gamora, she'd grunt her greeting. For this one, she folds her arms and gives a slight tilt of her head: ]

Hey.

[justlethal]

[Neither of them are talkative gossips to begin with and likely never will be. Simply being from beneath the thumb of Thanos- or in a galaxy without him- does not negate what they went through under him. Perhaps, in time, the physical and mental wounds would diminish, but there would always be scars.

While it may not be obvious, it has been a bit of a struggle for Gamora. Having known her demise was seconds away before arriving here, to be confronted with the future had been unsettling. She's not one to take her rage out in destructive ways, but had rather thrown herself into a problem. Of course that problem is proving to be lacking in an answer, but it had given her time to stomp about, perhaps make some frustrated noises when her attempts prove futile. It does burn off energy and allows her to think and consider everything at her own pace.

It is a casual grace to her steps, but a deadliness to them as well. Warriors and assassins, even if they may not be the weapons of Thanos any longer, such skills don't just vanish, especially when one keeps them up. Alert despite the ease, for her eyes monitor the vicinity as she comes up on Nebula. The lack of apparent citizens in this town and lack of evidence of where they may have gone, doesn't sit well with her.

There is a look, up and down, before Gamora gives a nod to her sister as she comes to stop by her. Gamora has not met anything whose skin is green let alone anyone whose skin is blue. If they draw attention, and unwanted attention, Gamora will be ready to shoo any such nuisances on their way. A pause, a mental debate, seeing to decide the exact wording, before she finally settles.]

Quill's here.

[In case she didn't know... Arguably, Gamora and Nebula would be the ones who wouldn't make a 'bang'. The rest she could see doing something.]

[furibund]

[ Gamora - a Gamora - has been in her life. She doesn't think she knows, because she hadn't said anything and Peter would probably panic blurt it out and then come back a mess. But as much as it's the same Gamora it's a different Gamora - not this softer, "family" orientated Gamora. The one who'd long ago abandoned her for a new family. Of course, Nebula doesn't think in that same angry lingering way but — This is the Gamora she knows to be dead. ]

[ She hasn't quite figured out how to handle that particular situation. What their dynamic is or would be. Sisters? They were always sisters, finally sisters. Maybe they'd hug and not stab each other in the back, that seemed to be where they were going before. But no doubt, as Nebula has changed dying and her experience with Thanos may have changed her. ]

[ Which is to say she looks her sister up and down in the familiar way of someone assessing wounds and sizing someone up. It's a brief matter, familiar. She doesn't feel one step behind Gamora now and it's a strange feeling. She pushes it away for the matter at hand, brows arching curiously. She could feign ignorance, pretend she didn't know. ]

[ But she was a terrible liar. She exhales then: ]

I know. [ A moment, it's almost hesitation, but Nebula doesn't hesitate: ] We've been working together.

There is at least one other from our universe.

CLOSED

[furibund]

gently slams in here

[nostalgiabomb]

[ The unexpected aspect of being kidnapped for no discernible reason to a deserted city is that there's not that much to do.

At least when he was kidnapped by the Ravagers, they wasted little time on getting him to work. The sent him to the Tailor, got him kitted out in Ravager garb, and immediately started putting him through his paces. He learned to fight, to steal, to shoot, and lived in daily fear for his life for, oh, about a decade or so – until it became clear that he was smarter and faster than most of the other Ravagers, anyway. It helped, too, once he got a ship to call his own and could leave the Eclector for weeks at a time.

But this place, though – to their credit, the kidnapping part had been about as painless as they come. After that, he expected they would be confronted by their abductors, by some pompous asshole on a raised dais who would either A.) tell them that resistance is futile or B.) invite them to join whatever weird cult they were building, but it's been radio silence.

In the meantime, Peter's been poking at the network. And he's been scavenging supplies – including squirreling away enough AA batteries to last him a lifetime. He's also swiped a portable external speaker from an electronics store – or, possibly, he's cobbled something together from parts he scavenged from the dead cars littering the place. No one's going to be using, them after all, unless someone has the chutzpah to put together an engine from the devices available throughout the city and to figure out a good replacement for gasoline.

(Rocket probably could, he thinks with a pang.)

He picks up scraps of information and rumor, here and there, but he's been distracted. His heart hasn't entirely been in it. His head isn't exactly screwed on straight. Any number of excuses regarding his inability to focus go here. Right now, he's kind of just doing enough to survive.

And so, here they are now: a former professional thief and a former galaxy-class assassin. Grocery shopping.

Or, you know. Looting. "Looting" might be the more apt term.

We're also learning that Peter is that kind of asshole, who plays music aloud in public. At some point, Peter has gotten a new backpack (his old childhood Jansport was too precious to take with him out and about, so he's opted to leave it at their shared apartment), and nestled in the bottle pocket is Peter's Walkman and aforementioned external speaker.

Currently, "Cherry Bomb" by The Runaways is playing.]

Think fast.

[ This, as he's tossing a package of reusable ice packs at Nebula's head – the kind meant for treating injuries, not the kind for keeping your lunch fresh. ]

Re: gently slams in here

[furibund]

[ There was a time where music was a foreign unknown. Why would Thanos play music on the Sanctuary II? Surely, she must have heard it when she was a child - before, but like a lot (most) things she doesn't remember it. The few things she does has always been a scattering of bad she'd rather not think about. In her adulthood, she was often too consumed with anger to pay attention to anything that might be music on one of the many planets they had hits on. Focus on the mission, the kill, and get out. It's all she knew then. ]


[ Music is as much a norm in her life as eating or sleeping. She'd spent long enough with Rocket on the Benatar that the odd sounds he'd once played had eventually started to sound like something more, even to her ears which are all replaced circuitry. It became a constant, one that thrummed through her life as an Avenger and now a Guardian (formerly or otherwise). In some ways, if she looked for a word for it, it was symbolic of freedom, maybe joy. She can enjoy it now, in more than just listening. Dance — if she wanted. ]

[ Let's be clear on the fact she's not dancing now or anywhere near doing so. ]

[ The music is, at least, familiar that it helps her relax a touch. While their collection of music has vastly expanded, it's no doubt she's as familiar with these particular soundtracks as the others. Hearing it loud and in surround is also often the norm, given they tend to blast it on the crew quarters of the Bowie (and if Rocket's in charge, in the central living space on Knowhere). Maybe it'd aggravate her in a different time or place, but here it gives an aching feeling of home that she'd rather it not. ]

[ Home is where she'd rather be, then this bizarre Terran seeming city with its items that are familiar-but-not and a worrying lack of supplies she'd personally need. Food, water, and clothing is fine. But a medical aisle is half-synonymous with mechanical equipment for parts of the galaxy. It definitely is for her and the lack of it is... Worrying, for her specifically, and the populace is noticeably more human than not. ]


[ It's this she's thinking about as she scans the aisle for something that would be more of use to her than 'anti-itch cream' and 'bandaids' ( god, they're so far on a dumpster planet it cuts need to be bandaged?? ) The music isn't so loud she fails to hear him over it. And she's spinning from her somewhat moody curiosity. There's a few options she could take here and the one she settles on is a quick movement, dropping the item she'd been idly looking at in favor of aggressively snapping it up in one hand with a growl and... It's the metal hand.

Do you know what that means? It means that the feeling of it is too aggressive and the packaging smooshes in and so does the - currently soft - icepack that explodes at the pressure. Covering her arm in the goop and her clothes and... quite possibly some of him, depending on how close he is. ]


[ I'm so sorry (or are we): She stares at it and him and then back again as she asks, a touch too dangeously: ]

What was that for?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Thankfully for the state of his clothing, he was far enough away to not be in the splash zone.

He does, however, immediately bark out a delighted laugh. Sorry, Nebula. ]

Holy shit. I've never seen that happen.

[ Like, he always knew it was possible, but still.

At the very least, he does Nebula the courtesy of freeing a rag – a clean one, of course – from his bag and offering it over. With his free hand, he gestures to his own cheek – the near universal sign for, You've got a little something.

Innocently, ]

I was thinking we should stock up. In case of sprains.