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

[godslay]

It was.

[ For the people Mantis helped, but also for Mantis, she thinks. ]

It seems like things are starting to settle again.

[ Though for how long that will last, there's no real telling.

Watching Peter fidget with his napkin, she quietly reaches out, setting her fingers over his in an effort to calm the anxiety that the action radiates. ]

Everyone is all right, Peter.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He stills at the contact, more startled than reassured, and he looks up at her. ]

I hear you, but—

[ His expression twists for a second as he grapples with putting the thoughts into words. Eventually he settles on, ]

—but this is, like, the second big thing I've apparently not been around for.

[godslay]

I know.

[ And that bothers her, too. ]

I don't know if there's anything in common with the timing, but it's worth considering. Maybe there are others who have experienced the same pattern.

[ Going in and out of the pods – either remembering their previous time or not – during greater upheavals. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah. Maybe.

[ And the two words come out on a sigh as he leans back in his chair. One last scrub at his face, one last, giant exhale, before he forces himself upright again. ]

I really didn't do anything.

[ Because she had been so insistent earlier, and apparently it's still on his mind. ]

I mean, before I ended up here again. I don't remember doing anything, anyway.

[godslay]

[ She gives a small nod. She does believe him, which is far more unsettling than the idea that Peter might have touched something he shouldn't have or gone poking around where he wasn't welcome.

It's more worrying and insidious to think that it might just happen for no reason – or one beyond their control. ]

Then the most we can do is look for answers.

[ She wants to tell him that she's glad he's back. She wants him to know that she's relieved, that she's not angry (well, she is, but for perhaps different reasons than it might seem). ]

... If you disappear again, I'm going to start removing your fingers.

[ yes, that properly conveys her relief. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ ... look, Peter is accustomed to threats of bodily harm, especially from Gamora, but that one catches him entirely off-guard.

And it shows, in the way his mouth falls open, in the way he stares at her in utter disbelief.

This? This is an expression that asks, Are you kidding me? ]

That's your way of saying "welcome back"? We just established I had nothing to do with this, and now you're threatening to take off fingers?

[godslay]

Yes.

[ Yes, because Gamora can't just say, "You scared me."

She can't say, "I was terrified that you wouldn't wake up."

And she definitely can't say, "I started thinking it would be permanent."

This is Gamora's "welcome back," and her own acknowledgment of her concern. The reality of the threat is as minor as all others Peter earned recently – if only because she's reached the point that she doesn't believe she'll ever carry through with them.

Not with Peter.

Not unless she has to.

The look she gives Peter isn't cold, either, or remotely menacing; she reaches for the reassurance of her usual unreadable expressions, but it's harder to look unaffected when she's still simultaneously anxious about the cause of Peter's stint in the pod and desperately relieved to see him sitting at this table. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

Some welcome.

[ And he grumbles it out, mouth twisting to one side with annoyance.

He huffs out a breath, lips parting to speak, but it's then that he catches that look on her face. He's used to the "calm and aloof" Gamora, used to "faintly disapproving" and "straight-up disapproving" Gamora, and he's used to "pissed off and liable to cut off heads" Gamora.

This... isn't really any of those Gamora's, and he frowns a little, leaning forward to better catch her eye. ]

What's wrong?

[godslay]

[ Stop giving her that look.

She purses her lips, somewhat reluctantly meeting Peter's insistent gaze.

"Nothing" would be a straight-up lie; honesty isn't appealing either, though.

She holds his eyes with her own, silent and steady and stern— ]

I didn't know if you would come back out.

[ This is quieter, but she forces her voice to be level. ]

And there was nothing I could do about it.

[nostalgiabomb]

... Oh.

[ And he says it lamely, blankly, because he was expecting, like, “Hey. You’ve been gone a month and some shit has gone down, so buckle up, ‘cause here we go.”

Or, “Listen, while you’ve been gone, we sold all your stuff and rented out your room. You’re gonna have to sleep on the balcony.”

Or, “Rocket’s wanted all across the continent for hocking a loogie in a nobleman’s face, so we’re sort of on the run.”

None of those would have surprised him, honestly, but somehow, it’s the admission that Gamora was... afraid? worried? that he was down for the count that stuns him into silence.

Like... he knows, of course, that the Guardians care about each other in their own ways, some of them far less obvious about it than others, but more often than not, they let their actions speak for them. This is as close to an “I missed you” as he was likely to get.

Impulse makes him reach across the table, resting his hand over hers. ]

Well... I’m back now. That’s something, right?

[godslay]

[ She doesn't startle like she once would when his fingers touch hers, and she doesn't pull away from him, either. ]

Yes. It's something.

[ And it's better than nothing. It's better than staring at his face behind glass for another day, wondering how long this would go on.

Now, he's here.

But all of that is so hard to say, and exposing more of herself is even harder, so she settles on instead, ]

... Don't let it happen again.

[ Even if her soft tone makes it clear she knows it's not his fault. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Yeah, okay, he recognizes this threat as empty, at least, and he hears that quiet, resigned tone in her voice – something that says she knows he really didn’t have anything to do with this. Which, again, is something. Not a lot, but something.

(And it’s scary, realizing that he can be popped back and forth between the station and the planet like it’s nothing, that he can get stuffed into a freezer for no apparent reason at all.

He tries not to think too much about it.)

He squeezes her hand gently, offering a small, halfhearted smile. ]

Sure. I’ll give it my best shot.

[ He falls quiet for a second longer, and given Peter’s fraught relationship with sincerity, his smile turns slightly impish. ]

How much did you miss me, exactly? On a scale of one to ten.

[godslay]

[ Aaaaaand that quiet concern melts into exasperation.

She pulls her hand away from him to cross her arms instead. ]

The more you talk, the closer it gets to one.

[nostalgiabomb]

Aww, c’mon.

[ Though with the way he’s grinning, he’s less concerned with the answer than he is with the asking. ]

A seven? An eight? An eight-point-five?

[godslay]

Eat your sandwich, Peter.

[ why is she cursed with this brat. why. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ because she liiiiiiiikes him cccc:

His eyes narrow as he studies her from across the table, leaning forward a little to better examine her. Then, he leans back, nodding slowly.

Knowingly, ]

Definitely a nine.

[godslay]

[ LIES

A brief moment of pause, and then: ]

I am going to shove this in your mouth.

[ As she points to his sandwich on the table. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His first impulse is to make a joke about how if Gamora was feeding him, then chocolate-covered strawberries might be more appropriate.

Then he realizes that she would probably make good on her threat, and shove the plate down his throat, to boot, so he keeps the comments to himself.

This wise decision does not, however, extend as far as smothering the grin still splitting his face. ]

It’s okay to say you missed me, you know. I mean, I get it. I’m a delight to be around.

[godslay]

[ he’s the worst

And yet, she’s not getting up and stalking off. She’s just sighing at Peter, giving him that flat look again. ]

I changed my mind. You can go back in the pod.

[nostalgiabomb]

Nope.

[ And he pops the “p” sound at the end of the word, leaning forward to rest an elbow on the table, propping up his chin with his fist. ]

You’re stuck with me.