come on, let's see what you've got

[nostalgiabomb]

Who: Peter Quill (nostalgiabomb) and maybe you?!
What: memshares and quests!
When: April??
Where: mostly Wyver and the Edrathe Ruins
Warning(s): possible violence; mentions of child murder


i. private: oh telephone line, give me some time; backdated to April 9th-ish

[ Do the Guardians have a group chat? They probably do. That sounds like it should be a thing, right? If not, apparently Peter is creating it by sending the following message: ]

Does anyone want to explain to me why I keep getting stuffed in a freezer up in space?

I'm starting to feel like last night's leftovers.

[ He's probably not expecting a real answer. Or any answer at all, honestly. Mostly he just wants to give a heads-up that he's back. Somehow. For better or worse. ]

ii. wyver: of red and black;

[ Peter's still reasonably sure that both Olympia and Wyver are batshit insane, so he feels no obligation to exhibit any sort of loyalty to either side. Especially not after those crazy cultists dropped him off in a maze with little more than a quick pat on the back and a, "Good luck not dying."

Assholes.

Apparently the craziness is more or less over, but Peter is still wary about stepping back into Wyver, even with the so-called "tour group." He knows his way around the city, but there's something to be said about playing dumb. He keeps his wits about him, keeps one hand hovering close to the grip of his blaster, and keeps an eye out for suspicious activity with all the attention he usually reserves for when he thinks someone with sticky fingers is about to pick his pocket.

When they reach the Forge, he pauses at the displays. The items aren't for sale, but a smith humors him and pulls out a sword to let Peter examine it.

He doesn't know what the fuck he's looking for – swords aren't really his thing – but, listen, Peter's a simple guy, and swords are really cool. ]

iii. forgetting is so long, vol. 1;

[ Wherever you were, whatever you were doing, it doesn't matter.

Welcome to the jungle.

—No, just kidding. But you are standing in the clearing of some sort of dense forest, with bright sunlight filtering down through the thick canopy. All things considered, it's not too different from some of the wooded areas on El Nysa.

What might come as a surprise is the boy clad in maroon standing with a blaster raised. The uniform he wears looks brand new and pristine, as does the gun he's weilding. Beside him, a blue-skinned man, his own uniform clearly older and well-used, leans over his shoulder.

"Get the target in your sights, Quill," the blue-skinned man says. "Line it up. Take your time."

The boy, Quill, apparently, tries to smother his smile and fails at it entirely. He aims at a target carved into the bark of a wide, petrified tree. He breathes, and on his third exhale, he squeezes the trigger. The blast of plasma surges from the gun, slamming into the tree a foot below the target. His smile fades a little, but the blue-skinned man beside him barks out a proud laugh, tousling the boy's hair.

"Now, that ain't bad, boy. That ain't bad at all. Try it again." ]

iv. forgetting is so long, vol. 2;

[ In Xanadu did Kubla Khan / A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Welcome to a giant, ornately decorated palace, with what looks like floating pearlescent eggs lining a single pathway. In it, a grey-haired man stands with Peter Quill. And the bastard is monologuing while Peter stands literally hypnotized, his eyes glazed over with thousands of stars. Explaining his evil plan to dominate the cosmos. Complaining about the failures after he banged his way through the galaxy to make a magic kid.

Charming. ]

v. edrathe ruins: actual pillars;

[ Peter has a bad habit of throwing himself into work when he wants to avoid thinking about certain things. Easier to keep himself occupied than to dwell, right? Plus, the siren call of a pocketful of silver definitely helps.

A couple of jobs take him to the same place, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

The Edrathe Ruins are every bit as creepy as Peter imagined. Dead and deserted. The sort of place that would definitely spew out animated skeletons or zombies or a million different shambling monsters, if given half a chance. ]

You don't think these pillars are cursed, do you? Or, like, secretly guarding some all-powerful weapon? I have a bad track record with ancient relics.

vi. edrathe ruins: secret cache and/or crystal drops;

[ Archaeology and recovering history lost to time is all good and well, and maybe searching out the pillars scratched an old itch in Peter to live out a life Indiana Jones might be proud of, but better still is the promise of profit.

And even better is the promise of "riches beyond your wildest dreams" – and Peter's dreams can get pretty buckwild, honestly.

It's why he finds himself here, in the ice cave of doom. He's had some shitty experiences with chilly caves in the recent past, but apparently that hasn't deterred him. He holds aloft a burning torch – how sadly low-tech is that? – with gloved hands. ]

Okay. No sudden movements, keep your eyes peeled, keep moving, and we should probably get through this without losing any fingers or toes.

vii. wildcard;

want to throw him into your memory? go for it! want a different memory? pm this journal or pp me at lampshading!

Comments

[phykios]

Yeah, nice to meet you too. [ he says, flat, but honestly? he can't blame the guy. he can't say he'd really take it any better to have total strangers barge into his memories -- and it's not like this one seems like it's of the warm and fuzzy variety either. ] I'm Percy.

[ ego keeps talking, and even though percy doesn't have any personal stakes here (besides, apparently, the end of the universe??), his hands twitch on the grip of his sword. gods, but everything about this guy -- the smug condescension, the calm way he discusses destroying thousands of planets like it's nothing -- puts him on edge. it probably wouldn't be satisfying to try cutting a memory-vision-thing in half, but he's almost tempted.

at the pod showing all those couplings though? he really can't help making a face. ]

Talk about TMI. [ then, ] Look, I didn't mean to be here. But there's a way out of these things. We just have to find it.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter stepped into Mantis’ memory a little while ago, and had fired almost a half-dozen shots through the apparition of Ego’s stupid face. It hadn’t been nearly as satisfying as he had hoped it would be, and even less effective.

That doesn’t stop him from resting his hand on the grip of his gun, holstered at his hip. And it doesn’t stop his fingers from twitching a little, either, as Ego goes on and on and on about the children he sired and discarded, like he was some asshole looking for pearl and killing every oyster on the way.

Peter’s jaw clenches so tightly he’s pretty sure his teeth might shatter, or that he’s at least going to need some serious dental work later, but for now, he drags his gaze away from Ego’s infuriatingly smug face to look at the kid – Percy, apparently – beside him. ]

If you tell me it involves killing this guy— [ No need to specify which guy, obviously. ] —you can be my new best friend.

[phykios]

[ .......you know, honestly.

he looks from peter to ego and back, hefts his sword. ]

I'm getting tired of listening to him talk, anyway.

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah.

[ And he drags the word out as he pulls both blasters from their holsters.

(He remembers this part, actually. They’re not too far off from that moment when he breaks out of Ego’s spell and blasts the asshole apart himself.

But he doesn’t want to hear those words again, formed in Ego’s fucking voice. Peter doesn’t want to hear Ego admit to killing Peter’s mother, in the same tone of voice someone else would use when they have to toss out an old, favorite shirt.) ]

I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Quill. [ And it’s a testament to his mood that he doesn’t add his customary, “People call me Star-Lord.”

But also, he doesn’t have much time to tack that on because he’s raising his guns and firing into the memory of Ego.

It won’t work, but it’ll satisfy him for about five seconds, at the very least. ]

sorry for the late!

[phykios]

[ percy's grip tightens on his sword, but he stands back; lets peter take his shot (literally) at breaking them out. besides, it's peter's crappy memory. it only seems right he gets to try whaling on the creep monologuing in it.

the creep who says something about "celestial" genes -- so probably, yes, some kind of god -- and then until you, peter, and a lot of things suddenly snap into place. ]

That's your dad? [ talk about ugh. ] If that's what he's like on regular days, I hate to imagine what he'd ask for on Father's Day.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Predictably, each shot goes straight through Ego's smug face. Peter's jaw clenches – tightly enough that, briefly, he wonders if his teeth might shatter – but he lets out a sharp breath between his teeth, holstering his guns. ]

I would've just gotten him a tie, like every other kid.

[ And he quickly turns on his heel. The conversation between the memory of his father and his stupid, hypnotized self is only going to get worse from here, and Peter doesn't want to hear it again. ]

You said you knew other ways out of here?

[phykios]

You know, for the record? My dad's never even asked for a tie, and he's god of the sea.

[ tossed out there offhandedly, but he doesn't figure peter would find that too outlandish, given...well, all this.

at the question, though, he narrows his eyes, looking back around the room critically. ]

There should be, like -- cracks. Weaknesses. Somewhere around here, anyway. If we attack those, we can get out.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ The claim gives Peter pause, and he casts the kid a quick, almost incredulous look.

... But, well, considering his own biological father is currently ranting and raving about his life’s purpose or whatever, maybe Peter doesn’t have room to judge.

But, okay. Cracks. Cracks, cracks, cracks, and Peter looks around almost hurriedly. It’s hard to see anything, considering the intricate carvings and swirling designs in the walls and the columns make it hard to spot anything. He aggressively ignores Ego’s droning behind him, frowning with concentration as he examines a wall. ]

Gimme a hand with this.

[phykios]

You find something?

[ percy comes over to look at whatever peter's found. because the thing is -- he's looking too, obviously, but aberrations are hard to find in the ornate decorations here, and doubly so when he doesn't know what they're supposed to look like normally. peter is better-informed, here. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

I think so.

[ Not that he spent much time on Ego’s planet looking too closely at the columns. There was a lot more to think about at the time, a lot more on his mind.

But, that being said, he thinks he sees something – fine lines that don’t quite match the swirling motif of Ego’s designs. Slightly crooked, a little wobbly, and Peter’s pretty sure if this really existed in Ego’s palace, Ego would’ve knocked down the whole thing and started from scratch.

He was a stickler about perfection like that, Peter thinks.

And when Percy approaches, Peter points out the section. ]

So, what, I just punch the hell out of it, or—?

[phykios]

[ he sees it, once peter points it out: the imperfections, the cracking that doesn't quite seem to belong. he would never have noticed them for himself, so thank all the gods that he isn't alone here. ]

Good catch.

[ or -- ? though, and he raises an eyebrow. ]

Or I could slash at them with my sword. But, uh -- your memory, your call.

[nostalgiabomb]

... Yeah. Maybe try stabbing it.

[ His guns haven’t proven to be particularly helpful, here. And maybe the more personal approach will prove to be more effective?

Or maybe Peter just thinks swords are seriously cool, though deeply impractical for the lifestyle he leads.

(Don’t tell Gamora.) ]