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[furibund]

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text ✦ horizon ✦ action ✦ overflow
solvunn ✦ death

She had learned long ago it was always easier to throw a grenade and walk away without looking back to see the blast and the blood and the wreckage she left in her wake. She had chewed her way through the guts of this galaxy and never once turned to witness the smoldering remains. It was the only way she ever managed to keep walking. She always had a job—and the results of it were someone else’s. That was how the universe moved.

But she had made a mistake. She had turned around. She had lingered too long and now it was swallowing her, that stupid sentiment that would someday get her killed, accompanied by the relief that always came with sinking into her nature like it was soft snow.

— Mackenzie Lee, Gamora and Nebula

Comments

[furibund]

[ Nebula has a very short list of people she'd answer messages in this form from. Or bother to read, period, if she can help it. She also has a very short list of people she'd accept such messages from — most quickly discarded. There's an even shorter list of people she'd expect a message like this from. ]

[ Somehow the Doctor manages to be on all of those lists. Somehow, even with everything that just transpired, this is very on par for their relationship. It's perhaps why there is no time wasted in a message relayed back as quick and sharp as to be expected: ]

Am I supposed to be not alright?

[thedreamer]

I only wondered, though I wouldn't say you're supposed to be anything at all but you. And however you do happen to be and feel — good, bad, indifferent, nothing at all — that's all perfectly fine.

[ Not that she needs him validating that, he well realizes. ]

[furibund]

[ In truth, she doesn't know how to feel. It's a complex well of emotions she doesn't have the capacity to navigate. "Living" all that time and then being thrust into who you were in the present it's - perhaps, for her, being two different people at once and who you started as still wins out. ]

[ Which in this case, truly meant she doesn't have the capacity to understand herself. ]

Sounds more to me like you don't know how you're feeling.

[ The response is immediate, cutting around her own thoughts entirely and ending with a somehow punctuated delivery of: ]

Is that the case?

[thedreamer]

How I'm feeling is often proportional to how everyone around me is feeling, which in this case is complex and fluid. Though not the fun sort of fluid-ish blob, like custard for example.

[ Which, perhaps, is answer enough. He could avoid for a long while. ]

I'm peachy keen, as the kids say. Somewhere.

[ Or rather, he's a bit like a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle, with about half of the puzzle put together. ]

I do this thing called worrying. Haven't ever quite rid myself of it. It applies to everyone I care about.

[furibund]

How are you as frustrating to speak to in this manner as you are face-to-face?

[ Pot calling the kettle, since she doesn't have to respond with her immediate thought there. It's the point she wants to make, so maybe it's not all that strange. ]

[ "You can try being more concise," is the thought that doesn't get said but is implied. ]

[ She doesn't even question if he cares about her. Not because she doesn't think it strange - she does, forever, and doesn't think he should - but because she knows he will say he does. ]

Try worrying about yourself more. I'm not going to bemoan whatever situation I've found myself in. No point to it.

[thedreamer]

[ Though his persistence in carrying on like he does might indicate otherwise, he's at least aware that he's sometimes infuriating to talk to. Or at least, so others have said. Infuriating, strange, too much. ]

Okay. Fine. No bemoaning. What about just a single thought, any thought at all? Any that you care to or want to share?

[furibund]

No.


[ For a moment, maybe that's all she's sending. "No," end of discussion. She hasn't thought about it - tries not to. That person isn't her, even if all the memories remain. She has no feelings - no, that's not it. ]

Don't start thinking I can be that person.

[thedreamer]

What person do you think I want you to be?

[ He's not purposefully trying to make this difficult, but he probably is by his very nature. :c ]

[furibund]

You know exactly what I mean.

[thedreamer]

I only want you to be you. And the you that you are is someone I care about. But I don't think you believe me either way. Or maybe I'm wrong! Admittedly it's rare, but it wouldn't be the first time. The being wrong part, not the caring part, I mean.

[ He's an idiot, that's a universal truth. ]

[furibund]

[ She cannot express her ugh any more than the long pause between responses. Some part of her still thinks he's lying to her in that not so genuine way of someone claiming to care about everyone. She's seen more of him, though, and some part of her finds him important. The part that latched onto the idea of someone seeing her withstanding. ]

[ Still, she can't just say that, right? Not with all those fake memories jumbling things up especially? ]

I know you care, you bumbling moron.

[thedreamer]

[ Those long years in that false reality — there was a lot in there he wasn't proud of, but there were good things, too. And the time spent knowing her better, getting closer to her, it was important to him. Though, he won't use those memories as some sort of assumption that they ought to be best friends suddenly. ]

Oh, good, I've got that right, at least! And still upholding my reputation as an idiot, good to know that hasn't changed. You wouldn't be the first to say it.

I won't keep you, I only wanted to check on you. I hope we can see each other again soon in Nocwich! I'll smuggle in a sample of some Jammie Dodgers for you to try, I've been perfecting them.

[furibund]

I won't be the last either. You'll make sure of that.

[ In one way or another, she thinks, by being himself or being so insistent. Not that she's starting to think the insistency is a bad thing... But she frowns. Shouldn't it be she that's worried about him? He's sounding fine enough, but something in her tells her he isn't. ]

What the hell is a Jammie Dodger?

... You can contact me whenever you want this way. I'll make sure to answer.

[ Even if it is just one word. Which it might be, from time-to-time. ]

[thedreamer]

Jammie Dodger! Delightful thing! Traditionally a biscuit made from shortcake, with fruity berry filling. I've done my best approximation of it here, obviously lacking a few things. I'll bring some 'round the next time we meet!

And ditto to you, Nebula. I'll always be here.

[ Whether that's meaningful to her or not, or perhaps just an annoyance, he will be here. And he'll check on her again. ]

[furibund]

[ The dice has betrayed Nebula's eternal attempt at feigning disinterest- Which is to say... She doesn't immediately respond. In fact, it's several hours later of stewing on the matter before she does.]

[ For someone who's childhood was starvation as both a lesson and reward... She spent a portion of it going any food was better than no food. She has started to stop to appreciate the food and beverages she's received, but she's never really gone out of her way to try different things. Whatever was available was fine... Which, she practically insulted Himeka's love of food for. It's the other woman's insistence on her trying new foods and learning what she likes that she thinks about - flusters over - and wherein she otherwise would have ignored the suggestion does come back to it:]

I'll look forward to it.

[ That's all she says but the sincerity is there. ]