[ She cuts in, first - heated, the presence of flaring nostrils. Every bit of her recoiling at the very idea; Because she was taught she could never be soft, that it was a weakness. Plucked away from her like a toy she'd grown too old for, replaced with the cool metal of machinery. She is not soft. She does not know how to be soft - even if she wanted to be - too twisted and tangled to find any other way. ]
[ He speaks. He speaks like a man who believes like he is incapable of change - not as a god. Not that she has a belief that so called gods are any different. She's experiences those, too, of course. It is why she speaks as she does now. Even if she listens. Even if that softness that is buried under fire as snow speaks out against it - a touch too well. ]
[ She does not say it. He reminds her of herself; It can be felt, in the barest twinges of something. Not sadness, not pity. Understanding. They were supposed to be talking about something else. ]
My sister. Gamora. [ Because she has a name and for too long she separated herself from other people by not using their names - it is something she tried to change. ] When we were children she had promised we would always be sisters. That no matter what we would help each other; He starved us and had us fight to the death. She left me to suffer. Again and again, until I became this thing you see before you - [ Well, this is communion, he doesn't see. But the gesture is there; The feeling of this body is not her own - could never be her own. Replaced into pieces until she couldn't even tell you what she looked like in the first place or could dare to guess if any parts of it before were left. ]
For years all we knew how to do was distrust. I tried to kill her. Many times.
[ So many times. So much anger. But there is no anger now. She cannot feel any anger about those times now - because she gave those up. It is fact. Her history. ]
And then one day we reconciled. Then he would kill her - his pursuit for power meaning more to him than his favorite daughter. [ She swallows. ] That Gamora is gone. She will never be back. But there was -
[ Infinity war bullshit logic. She's not going to explain. ] - a situation. A past version of her came back. And a past version of me.
I killed her because she would have killed our sister.
[ She does not explain, but the feelings are there. The hollowness of understanding, of knowing that this other version of yourself thought they could never change. That they were trapped in a world of cruelty, torture, and violence. That anything less was weakness to be discarded. That there's a part of her that will never be free. ]
[ She swallows. ]
You are not made for this. None of us are.
We all have a choice.
[ Even if that means she belligerently doesn't see him as a god (sorry Set) but maybe that's beneficial - in its own way. ]
no subject
[ She cuts in, first - heated, the presence of flaring nostrils. Every bit of her recoiling at the very idea; Because she was taught she could never be soft, that it was a weakness. Plucked away from her like a toy she'd grown too old for, replaced with the cool metal of machinery. She is not soft. She does not know how to be soft - even if she wanted to be - too twisted and tangled to find any other way. ]
[ He speaks. He speaks like a man who believes like he is incapable of change - not as a god. Not that she has a belief that so called gods are any different. She's experiences those, too, of course. It is why she speaks as she does now. Even if she listens. Even if that softness that is buried under fire as snow speaks out against it - a touch too well. ]
[ She does not say it. He reminds her of herself; It can be felt, in the barest twinges of something. Not sadness, not pity. Understanding. They were supposed to be talking about something else. ]
My sister. Gamora. [ Because she has a name and for too long she separated herself from other people by not using their names - it is something she tried to change. ] When we were children she had promised we would always be sisters. That no matter what we would help each other; He starved us and had us fight to the death. She left me to suffer. Again and again, until I became this thing you see before you - [ Well, this is communion, he doesn't see. But the gesture is there; The feeling of this body is not her own - could never be her own. Replaced into pieces until she couldn't even tell you what she looked like in the first place or could dare to guess if any parts of it before were left. ]
For years all we knew how to do was distrust. I tried to kill her. Many times.
[ So many times. So much anger. But there is no anger now. She cannot feel any anger about those times now - because she gave those up. It is fact. Her history. ]
And then one day we reconciled. Then he would kill her - his pursuit for power meaning more to him than his favorite daughter. [ She swallows. ] That Gamora is gone. She will never be back. But there was -
[ Infinity war bullshit logic. She's not going to explain. ] - a situation. A past version of her came back. And a past version of me.
I killed her because she would have killed our sister.
[ She does not explain, but the feelings are there. The hollowness of understanding, of knowing that this other version of yourself thought they could never change. That they were trapped in a world of cruelty, torture, and violence. That anything less was weakness to be discarded. That there's a part of her that will never be free. ]
[ She swallows. ]
You are not made for this. None of us are.
We all have a choice.
[ Even if that means she belligerently doesn't see him as a god (sorry Set) but maybe that's beneficial - in its own way. ]