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

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

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 ! )

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You just need to know how to handle them.

[ Show them who's' boss, and all that.

The low light doesn't affect Gamora's own eyesight, and she keeps taking in the sights, looking for anything that could be dangerous. She doesn't recognize most of the plantlife, but some of them seem like things to avoid; anything with sharp thorns or sticky leaves should not be touched under any circumstances.

... Groot would touch all of them. It's probably a good thing he's in stasis. ]

[ Peter would much rather believe that the animals had some sort of personal vendetta against him, which is why he simply makes a face and moves on.

As they move through the underbrush, Peter’s probably not quite as concerned as he ought to be about the mysterious plantlife. It’s not that he doesn’t care, because of course he does. Rather, it’s because Ravagers had always had a somewhat cavalier attitude toward the unknown, and Peter had adopted the same mindset. Didn’t know what a thing was? Sniff it. Lick it. Eat it.

(... unsurprisingly, a lot of Ravagers tended to take sick or, you know. Die.)

Peter, at least, had always been smart enough to avoid anything that looked dangerous. So in the here and now, if anything on their immediate path seems like it might be up to something, Peter steps around it.

With the sun setting, the light of day starts to drift away, leaving their surroundings darker and darker. Eventually, Peter presses the trigger behind his ear to deploy his mask, and he pauses, letting his eyes adjust. ]

Hey. [ And his faceplate hides his sly grin. ] Maybe they have those floaty dandelions around here.

[ Gamora is largely focusing on their surroundings as they climb through the thick jungle. It's only when Peter speaks that she glances over at him—

And yep, that unimpressed look is back. ]

Shut up.

[ ... Admittedly, she is looking especially closely for the stickweed, because unlike a simulation, they could genuinely drift into dangerous areas out in the wild. ]

They do not grow here.

[ At least not in the Undergrowth in particular.

(Even knowing that, she still doesn't want to step on one by accident.)

She pauses mid-step when the sound of lightly running water reaches her ears, and she turns her head in its direction, curious. ]

Do you hear that?

[ Sorry, Gamora; Peter just snorts in the face of that command, but he keeps any further jokes to himself. (She could storm off into the woods on her own, after all, and where would that leave either of them if they got lost or ended up finding trouble?)

Her statement makes him smirk – mostly because she says it with such authority that he has to assume she did research specifically on that particular topic – though again, he doesn’t comment further. When she stops, Peter only notices a step and a half later, and he turns to look at her. He pauses, listening, but all he hears is the quiet of the Undergrowth settling in for the night. Gamora’s hearing has always been far more keen than his, so rather than doubt her, he murmurs, ]

What is it?

Water.

[ Which is shockingly scarce in the Undergrowth, she's come to notice. Being near water or having a marker for their location isn't a bad plan, and she nods towards the sound of the stream, taking a few steps in its direction. ]

We could take a look.

[ Peter still doesn’t hear it, even with that little helpful hint, but he trusts Gamora’s senses well enough to follow along after her. ]

Are we talkin’ a river, here? Or, like, is it a babbling brook-type situation?

Not as big as a river.

[ But not small.

She steps carefully through the underbrush, her hand still resting on Godslayer's hilt just in case. Nothing else catches her attention – no motion, no animals (that she can tell), or other unwelcome company – and as long as Peter is willing to follow her, she keeps approaching the sound of the water.

It's cascading, she soon realizes, rushing gently over rocks, and she hesitates behind a wide-leafed bush, glancing back at Peter. ]

It should be just up here.

[ He watches his step, trying to keep himself from catching his foot on a root or a rock and twisting the shit out of his ankle or something equally embarrassing. (Bad enough their last venture out of the city proper had left Peter panicking and terrified; they didn’t need this go around to end with Peter limping his way back to their humble abode.)

Finally, he hears the rush of water, trying to judge how quickly or how large the body of water is from sound alone; it almost sounds like it’s falling, to him, but he can’t be sure. When Gamora looks back to him, Peter nods, stepping up beside her. ]

Better than nothing.

[ They can use it as a sort of breadcrumb, at least. ]

[ "Better than nothing" is about right. Best case scenario, they can follow the water back to the lake outside Wyver proper, which would be more of a straight shot home.

Worst case scenario, something tries to eat them.

There's a fairly wide margin for error here.

Only a moment more, and she pushes the leaves out of the way.

Before them is a small clearing with a set of pools, fed into by little waterfalls cascading over rocks that lead up a small rise. The water seems normal enough, but it's the creatures that have gathered around it that catch Gamora's attention. A small herd of reptilian-like birds are meandering around the pools, some making soft cooing noises to each other, others drinking from the water, or pecking at cactus-like plants near the falls.

A few lift their heads when they hear the sound of the rustling leaves, but rather than dart away or become defensive, they just coo and trill at Peter and Gamora. ]

... More reptiles.

[ Reptile birds? Whatever they are. ]

[ Oh.

That's. A lot less murderous than Peter was expecting – though considering all the shit they had run into during their trip to Wyver after leaving the station, maybe it wasn't fair to use that as a point of comparison.

He blinks down at the birds— raptors? Birds? Things, and they seem— not docile, exactly, but neither do they seem likely to attack. ]

... Huh.

[ One of the things tilts its head at him, and Peter kind of. Unconsciously does the same. ]

They don't seem hostile, at least.

Not currently.

[ Gamora obviously doesn't trust the birds, even if they aren't making an immediate move to attack.

The few closest to them seem oddly delighted by the sound of their voices, and they trill cheerfully at them, one stepping closer. Its head bobs with the motion, fanning out the ferns framing its skull, and it chirps hopefully, something almost melodious to the sound. ]

... What is it doing?

[ More sound, more happy chirruping in response. ]

[ ... Uh. ]

... Uh.

[ Helpful, Peter.

He peers at the weird thing as it approaches, a hand unconsciously coming to rest on the grip of his blaster. It doesn't appear aggressive, at least, and Peter frowns behind his mask. ]

I... think it's singing?

[ Then, directed to the creature itself, ]

Are you just saying hi, little dude?

[ The bird chirps in response, excited by Peter's feedback. It keeps making that soft, lilting song as it steps closer, shaking out its fern-like feathers.

Gamora's fingers curl around her sword, drawing Godslayer in preparation—

Though the bird seems to notice immediately, and it trills in alarm, backing away quickly and plastering its feathers against its neck. The surrounding birds call out in surprise, more song, more chirping, and Gamora frowns as she looks among them. ]

Skittish, apparently.

[ When the bird's feathers flatten back, when the other birds respond with the same alarmed chirping, Peter glances back between the creatures and Gamora, similarly startled.

He sees the way Gamora's hand wraps around the hilt of her sword, and he realizes he also has a hand resting against his gun. He slowly, purposefully, lifts both hands in a placating gesture.

Gently, in an even voice, ]

Whoa, hey, come on. We're not gonna hurt you.

[ And he glances back at Gamora. Slightly more pointedly, ]

Are we, Gamora?

[ Despite the fact that the birds have made no move to attack, even when perceiving a threat, Gamora is still hesitant to abandon her weapon. But with that pointed look from Peter, she sighs in resignation, returning Godslayer to her hip and taking her hand off of it. ]

No, we won't.

[ The bird closest to them seems to settle, slowly and hesitantly, and the fear in its song eases back into curiosity as it steps closer. It extends its neck – and Gamora suddenly realizes how long it is – to coo at Peter again. ]

... I think it likes when you talk to it.

[ Peter tenses as the bird eases itself closer, as its neck stretches out like some weird telescope. But it's looking at him with interest – and considering how often he's had creatures and people alike look at him like they were sizing him up for their dinner tables, Peter thinks he might be something of an authority on the matter.

Its coo is answered with a soft, pleased sort of laugh, and Peter's winning smile goes lost behind his masks' faceplate. ]

Of course it likes when I talk. Everyone likes when I talk.

[ If by "everyone" Peter means "Peter Quill and only Peter Quill," then he's not wrong. ]

It's about time something on this dumb planet finally likes me.

[ Focused as Peter is on the bird, he probably doesn't notice the pronounced roll of Gamora's eyes. Ugh. ]

Maybe it thinks you have food in your pocket.

[ Clearly that's the only reason the bird would be so eager for Peter's attention.

But the more he talks, the happier the song from the strange raptor becomes, and it keeps stepping closer to Peter, a little bit at a time, until it can reach out to try and nudge Peter with its beak. ]

[ Peter huffed out a sigh, turning to look at Gamora over his shoulder. ]

What, a weird, random bush-bird can’t just like me for— whoa—

[ It nudges him, and Peter rocks back, a hand resting against its beak to catch the bird... thing... as it tries to get his attention. It goes in for another nudge, and Peter laughs a little. ]

It’s kinda cute, isn’t it?

[ Gamora isn't going to call something cute, but— ]

Its feet look like it could eviscerate someone.

[ But the bird isn't trying to nip at Peter or rip out his innards, and instead, rubs its beak up against his hand with that unceasing trilling. Its beady eye watches him, a lid blinking quickly from the side as it cocks head to look him over.

A few of the other birds continue to make curious noises, but they're much more shy about approaching. ]

[ Well, at that pleasant observation, Peter glances down and—

... It’s not an inaccurate assessment.

But the dino-fern-bird doesn’t seem all that eager to rip him to shreds, so Peter takes it as good, for now. ]

I mean, so did the wyvern, though, and it had teeth for days, and we rode that thing.

[ He gives the trilling creature a fond little pat on its beak, and he glances back at Gamora. ]

C’mon. Take it easy. It’s friendly.

The wyvern was domesticated.

[ ... Ish.

Mostly, she doesn't know what this thing is or what it wants, and in survival, it pays to trust nothing in her surroundings.

But the beast looks particularly pleased by the attention it's receiving from Peter, continuing to coo and chirp at them both, and she finally sighs and lets an ounce of tension slide from her shoulders. ]

If these are the only creatures in the area, this might not be a bad place to stay until daylight.

[ If Peter wasn’t wearing his mask, Gamora would be enjoying the full force of his skeptical look. But she relaxes, if only a little, and Peter gives her a quick, approving nod.

He gives the bird-like creature another little pat on its beak, and at Gamora’s suggestion, he glances around at their surroundings again. It’s nice enough, he guesses; and with the waterfalls feeding into the pools, he has to assume the water is fresh. The rest of the... flock? Of alien birds are still keeping their distance, so hopefully they’re likely to leave him and Gamora alone for the rest of the evening. ]

Might not be a bad idea.

[ And he steps back, away from his new friend, who continues to chirp and trill at him. ]

We’re gonna have to figure out something for dinner, though.

[ Gamora's eyes wander over towards the pools, where the birds are pecking at some spiky plants. ]

Those should be edible, if we cook them.

[ Otherwise, they might have to forage for a few other things. She didn't exactly pack overnight supplies, but the wyvern had taken them so far out that by the time she realized where they were, they weren't within walking distance of the city. ]

[ The cactus gets a dubious look, but, well, the birds seem to be doing well enough with them. They’re... probably not toxic? Or maybe the creatures evolved in certain ways to eat them?

... Yeah. He’s gonna have Gamora try it first.

He casts around again, pointing out to a clearing some distance away. ]

We should probably set up over there. If we build a fire too close by, it might spook these guys.

[ Gamora nods in agreement, and in order to start doing exactly that, she steps around the bird. It cocks its head at her for a moment, chirping, and then goes back to nudging Peter hopefully for attention.

Apparently, it's convinced it made a friend.

Along the way, Gamora gathers up some pieces of kindling, any stray wood that looks mostly dry, to start a little pile for their fire. The rest of the flock watches her move, not advancing, but curious with coos and whistles directed at her.

... They probably aren't investigating because Gamora isn't responding to them the way Peter had. ]

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