( OPEN ) mister blue sky, please tell us why.

[godslay]

Who: Gamora (godslay) & YOU
What: A catch-all for January.
When: Throughout the month.
Where: Mostly Wyver.
Warning(s): None so far?


1 ) That's Not a Horse

[ Gamora does not have experience with dragons. There were none on her planet, and even less in space, but in Wyver, that isn’t the case.

She’s also discovered that traveling can be a pain, and with the availability of mounts (which she hasn’t acquired for herself yet), she’s drawn to the wyverns she’s regularly seen. She’d prefer something that wasn’t, you know, alive, but given the options, she’s willing to take one for a test-drive, to see what she thinks.

The reins are handed off to her, and she leads a beautiful red wyvern towards the city gates. She runs a palm down the beast’s broad neck, feeling its scales with appreciation, and when it turns its head to meet her eyes, she stares right back into the reptilian slits.

A quiet hiss, and Gamora reaches out to set her hand on its snout. It doesn’t snap at her, and instead, slowly blinks in quiet acceptance.

She’s just about to climb aboard, because she’s going on an adventure.

Come along for a ride? ]

2 ) Stay The Night

[ It’s nearly nightfall out in the Undergrowth, and Gamora’s wyvern is getting fidgety. She remembers what she was told about sending the beast home if she wouldn’t return before sundown, so she pulls the reins taut to stop the mount, glancing over her shoulder at her companion. ]

We should find somewhere to stay out here. He needs to return to the city, and he won’t be willing to take us with him in a few minutes.

[ The wyvern hisses and shakes out its head, tugging against its bridle. ]

… The sooner we get off, the better.

3 ) Disturbing The Dead ( A )

[ Gamora has adjusted to making a living since joining the Guardians. Earning units where they could was normal, which is why picking up odd jobs for silver doesn’t bother her.

So here she is, wandering through this damned crypt with anyone unlucky enough to join her.

She has an excellent sense of her surroundings. She can usually detect traps with little trouble, but when ghosts come into the mix, it’s hard to focus on possible trip wires that will dump her and whoever’s joined her into a dark, unwelcoming pit.

An unholy howl fills the crypt’s passage, and as Gamora whirls around to search for the source, her ankle catches on—

Oh, damn it.

The ground drops out beneath her, and there’s going to be a lot of tumbling down to land in a tangle of limbs in the dark.

Gamora gives a short grunt of annoyance as she lands directly on top of someone.

Oops. ]

4 ) Disturbing the Dead ( B )

[ This has been a long, miserable haul through the dark, and Gamora is in no mood for shenanigans.

At the end of the maze is a stockpile of dusty odds and ends that look like they might be valuable.

Crouching down by the heirlooms, Gamora lifts one up to give it a once-over. ]

This had better be what they want.

5 ) Wildcard

( ooc: have something in mind? hit me up @ poprocks ! )

Comments

4.

[beknight]

Or else.

[ He doesn't mind the dark. But he's as dusty and gruff as she is, nursing a cut from a slew of knives that flew at them. They managed — more efficiently than most, he suspects — it doesn't make him more inclined to be charitable towards the people paying them to do this. ]

I'll look over here. [ a beat, ] Watch yourself.

[godslay]

[ The dark is fine. The creepiness is fine. The traps, however, were a pain in the ass, and that made this whole endeavor obnoxious until the end.

She glances back at Bruce, offering a short nod. ]

You do the same. Try not to trigger anything.

[ Not that she’s too worried about Bruce.

The piece she’s examining seems to be largely useless, broken, and she tosses it aside to start sorting through a few others. ]

[beknight]

[ Deadpan, ]

If I die here, you can have my hunting knife.

[ She's as tough as he is — maybe tougher. His estimation of aliens is still trying to find a proper scale, and honestly, when you have Kryptonian at one end everything just starts to look ridiculous. ]

[ Let's also hope he doesn't inhale something because of all this fucking dust. Mummy's curse and all. Bruce is sorting through an old stack of cracked items, and comes up with a jewel-encrusted box. He tilts it, something's inside. ]

Found something.

[godslay]

How generous.

[ Be gentle with your lungs, Bruce.

Most of what Gamora picks up seems to be destroyed in one way or another, either from careless handling or age, and that doesn't bode well for their worth. She lifts a small chalice from the floor, scrutinizing it for irreparable damage, but—

It actually looks salvageable.

She glances back when he speaks, pushing herself up from her knees to come take a look. ]

What is it?

[beknight]

Jewellery box.

[ He's not going to pry it open in front of his face, Bruce sets it down and picks at it, jimmying the lid open to find a necklace and a set of earrings. The jewels and metal need polishing, but they're in remarkably better condition than the rest of the items. ]

What do you think?

[godslay]

[ Gamora watches him fidget with the box, until, finally, it pops open. The jewelry inside is enough for her to lift one silver brow in approval. ]

It should be worth something, even if not to our employers.

[ Hopefully these are the sorts of relics they need, but, well, if not… someone should pay for them. ]

[beknight]

They better think it's worth the most to them.

[ He pockets both, looking at the box. Hm. Seems like it could be worth trying to pitch as a set. ]

What have you found?

3

[summertimeblues]

[Richie has a less than excellent sense of his surroundings. Chalk it up to never being kidnapped by Josh Brolin in a chin prosthetic.

What he does have is far too much experience dealing with things that go bump in the night. He's in one of the lower tunnels, and he hears the howl from the distance. Pausing in his tracks, flashlight tilting up as his pupils blow wide with fright. He knows better than to scream.

Yet he's balking when the ceiling splits and spits out a body. He scrambles, but can't back away fast enough—]

OOomph!

[Down he goes, a one-woman projectile taking the bullseye of his sternum. The floor here is soft soil. Fortunate. He's getting on into the middle ages, can't be taking shots to the ribs willy nilly no more.

Richie peels an eye open. She looks...green?]

...If you wanted to get on top of me, you coulda just asked.

[He almost throws in a "baby", but he's dying a little and he doesn't want to turn that into dying a lot. Get off, Gamora.]

[godslay]

[ Dropping "baby" probably saves Richie from a few extra bruises. Or loss of limb. So good job, Richie.

She shifts around to try and untangle herself from him with a short huff, aggravation radiating off of her without needing words, as she reaches up to push her hair out of her face and get a look at exactly who she's landed on. She braces herself on her elbow for a second, and—

Ah, she recognizes all of this. Voice, face – even in the dark – and— ]

I do not need to tell you this place is filled with traps, Rich.

[ Look at that, she even gets his name right.

She finally manages to pull herself off of him, dropping to the side to appraise him. ]

Are you hurt?

[ ... He's probably fine if he's still making jokes. ]

[summertimeblues]

[Was there a chance of her getting it wrong? Was he really so forgettable? Should he do more impressions or]

I gathered that much. Had to dodge poison arrows to get into this fine hole.

[When she looks down on him he takes a second to lie still. Contemplating the ludicrous turns life has taken. Surely he'd done nothing to deserve this.]

I ain't gonna say fit as a fiddle, but nothings cracked open yet. Should've worked up a bit more velocity if you were gonna make a clean break of it. Another tick on the kill list for big bad Gamora.

[He does sit up then, ruffling the dirt from the back of his head and pressing against the baby bruises ringing there.] Treasure hunting?

[godslay]

[ Look, if she doesn't care, she doesn't bother to remember. So he at least had a decent enough impact on her.

But Richie rambles, and Gamora rolls her eyes. He's obviously just fine, whole and in one piece, and he's moving around without any cries of pain, so she doesn't even feel that bad about landing on him. ]

If I was going to kill you, it wouldn't be by landing on you.

[ "If." That's important here.

She tucks dusty hair behind her ears, pushing herself to her feet. ]

Something like that. I assume you came looking for the same thing.

[ Why else would anyone in their right minds come down here? ]

[summertimeblues]

That so? How would it go then? Top five slice and dice strategies, let's hear 'em.

[He follows suit soon after her, albeit with a heavier wince. He doesn't spend a ton of time guarding galaxies or any of that fluff and nonsense, so he's a touch stiffer and worse for wear than she is. Plus, he'd been the padding to her fall. Natural that of the two he was peeling off the floor with the bigger bruises.]

You caught me. Starting to regret it something fierce. I'm too old for this shit.

[And yet here he is...

Richie squints at the darkness ahead, fixing his flashlight to cleave through the middle of it with a yellow beam. More dirt and more walls, who would have thought.]

You come in with anyone?

[godslay]

[ Shockingly, Gamora doesn’t cut him off as he rambles, but she seems to take the first demand for her “top five slice and dice strategies” as one of his many jokes – so she’s not going to bother listing them.

… Also, she might actually horrify him a little, given how he reacted back in that skull’s cavern to something as minor as moving bones.

But in deference to his (she assumes) more fragile human body, she’s watching him closely as he pulls himself to his feet. She doesn’t help him up, because he seems to manage, but she’s still taking stock of his movement, looking for telltale signs of damage. ]

You can’t be that old.

[ He looks maybe about Peter’s age – but, then again, she could just be terrible at gauging Terran ages.

Her eyes follow the beam of Richie’s flashlight, though she doesn’t need her own; one of the benefits of Thanos’s brutal modifications happens to be the ocular implants he “gifted” her with. Her night vision is, therefore, impeccable. ]

No, I had no desire to babysit.

[ Bringing the other Guardians isn’t babysitting (no, that’s a lie, it totally can be), but her friends had their hands full for the day, and she figured the lighter the social load, the easier this would prove to be.

… Richie, however, seems like he probably needs a babysitter. ]

… Did you come alone?

2

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Either because of laziness, or because the wyverns had snapped at him, or because Peter was privately interested in the idea of playing plus one to Gamora – possibly all three – Peter opted to not borrow a mount of his own.

The wyverns were awesome, though, and maybe when his coffers were a little more well-padded, he'd consider getting one. Still, he'd rather have something that didn't have a chance of biting back (as a few had tried to do back at the stables, and he still harbors some ill will toward a particular dark blue wyvern who had nearly taken his pinky off).

But Gamora has controlling the thing well enough in hand, and he sits behind her, watching the landscape as they pass. When she stops, Peter glances down at the squirming wyvern, sees the way it yanks at the reins in her hands. ]

—Yeah. We'd better let Smaug head back before he tries to eat one of us.

[ And Peter dismounts, giving the wyvern a look of warning before offering Gamora a hand down – not that she needs it, obviously, but the gesture is absent, thoughtless. ]

[godslay]

Talros, not Smaug, Peter.

[ get the dragon's name right jeez

Despite the fact that she's perfectly capable of letting herself down, she still takes Peter's hand, sliding herself off of the saddle to land beside their mount. The wyvern shakes its head insistently, chirping and hissing in turn as it tries to pull away from her.

A sigh, and Gamora drops the reins; without another moment of pause, the beast immediately takes off at full-tilt towards Wyver.

And now here they are, in the Undergrowth as daylight slips lower and lower, surrounded by strange plants and the occasional whistle and whisper of creatures in the trees. ]

Let's find somewhere to make camp.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ When Gamora offers the correction, he looks at her dead-on and amends, ]

Puff.

[ —which is also not the little dude's name, but oh well.

Peter watches the dude as it runs off, and Peter frowns at it. ]

At least it waited until sun was going down. [ Heavy on the irony, tonight, aren't we, Peter? ] You know, when all the monsters and bandits come out. Real kind of it.

[ But Peter leaves it at that, letting out one last frustrated huff before glancing around. ]

Might be a cave or something around here, or at least a nice clearing that doesn't have too many things that'll wanna eat us.

[godslay]

[ If Gamora didn't already have so much experience with Peter's absurdity, she might bother trying to correct him again.

Instead, she just rolls her eyes. ]

If we could avoid any caves carved out of giant skulls, I would prefer that.

[ ... That night with the ghosts is not one she remembers fondly.

She casts around, one hand resting on the hilt of her sword, and then she nods towards a break in the trees. ]

The only thing to do is look. We could follow his path back towards Wyver, and there may be something like a main road that will be less frequented by whatever lives here.

[ And, therefore, safer places to sleep.

Or the Undergrowth could just be a nightmare of tangled wildlife that doesn't have any real roads. That would just be so helpful. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He puts on a surprised sort of look. ]

I thought you liked skulls.

[ And his gaze pointedly drifts to the little beaded braid in her her hair.

Buuuut considering that night had deeply unsettled him, too, he leaves it at that. At her direction, he moves toward the gap, pausing to peer into it for a moment or two, as if expecting something to spring out at them, then and there. It seems a good sign that nothing does, so Peter takes a tentative step or two forward. ]

Maybe we should've just hitched a ride back to town on the wyvern.

[godslay]

[ She gives him a flat look in return for the skull comment, but once again, doesn't indulge him. That particular skull had been massively unpleasant – not to mention the skulls inside the skull.

Too many bones, even for her.

She follows after him, allowing him to lead the way as she keeps her eyes peeled for any unwelcome movement. ]

He would have tried to take your leg off before he allowed us to stay in the saddle.

4

[seagoing]

[Years of pawning off goods from unfortunate people who'd caught the business end of her blade and old abandoned chests found in forgotten mazes of caves brings gives Isabela a good eye for the worth of things. The traps were to be expected for being a well protected raider's stash from her own experience, but with after one too many scares from spooky howls she's just hoping for a nice payout from whatever they've hoarded away. She peeks at what Gamora's found with a wary glance. The money she thinks, think of the money.]

After the last trapdoor I hope so. Of all the places to put their loot, why did it have to be a crypt?

[As if ghosts don't already give her the shivers. She looks around the pile, keeping an eye out for any tripwires or other signs of a trap they might have missed.]

I can check to be sure there's nothing else set to go off if you want to see what's worth taking. I wouldn't be surprised if they had one last trap up their sleeve at the end.

[godslay]

[ The worst part about this job is that it hasn't been particularly challenging, but more so annoying. It's taken longer than Gamora would like, and though her company is at least pleasant, she would have rather been done with this hours ago.

Also trapdoors are just obnoxious.

She glances over at Isabela, giving a short nod. ]

That would be wise. I would rather avoid anything sharp or incendiary right now.

[seagoing]

Hopefully avoiding anything poisonous too. I'm surprised we haven't run into anything yet that's tried it.

[The dankness of the crypt already has her nerves on edge, and she swears she hears someone laughing in the distance as she looks around. So far the pile seems to be clear despite her giving it an unwary look like something could burst out of the pile at any second. Her staring at it lets her catch something she might have missed though, and she squats carefully to make sure she doesn't disturb anything around her.]

There we are. [And she's quick, dexterous hands unsheathing a dagger and getting to work in no time at all as she slashes down at seemingly nothing. She pauses for a moment after before giving a sigh of relief.] Tripwire. I knew they'd have one last surprise in case anyone actually made it here. I doubt it triggered anything like a bomb though, if there's anything here worth taking.

[godslay]

[ Gamora inspects a pile of trinkets on her own as Isabela deals with a pile of seemingly harmless items. Once again, her attention flicks to the other woman as she speaks, lifting a curious brow. ]

Of course there was something else.

[ Of course there was.

She squints at the pile with an overly skeptical look. ]

I don’t hear anything, so I think you have disabled it.

[ Hope…fully. ]

Grab what looks valuable, and let’s go.

[seagoing]

[Isabela just shrugs as she stands, flashing the other woman a smile before rummaging around through other piles of stuff in the room.]

It would have been a little too easy if there wasn't.

[As if all the trouble they'd gone through to even reach this room was even remotely easy.]

At least, that's what I would have done if this was my stash. Not too hard after that to try and think like they likely have in setting things up. Experience from years of being a raider comes in handy after all.

[The blissful silence signals to her as an all clear, given they were still standing on their feet with everything intact and able to breathe. At least in this room everything was fine. She holds up something shiny after a moment, two shiny trinkets in her hands that she looks more than eager about.]

Ooooh. Think these will do? [Of course she asks that, but she's putting them in her bag all the same just in case.]

[godslay]

[ Unfortunately, Gamora isn’t often much of a conversationalist; she is, however, content to allow Isabela to go on, offering a short hum of acknowledgment. She’s digging through her own piles of items, watching carefully for additional triggers, while trying to find something reasonable.

She plucks out a broken chain, tosses it aside; next, a mirror that looks like it once had jewels inlaid in the handle. Finally, she looks over again when Isabela calls for her attention, and she watches as the woman tucks away the shiny little trinkets. ]

That looks better than most of this.

[ She sighs, chucking a broken plate onto another pile. ]

The majority is junk.