[open] eyes on your goodbyes

[firstroar]

Date & Time: Dec 5 - 20
Location: Moonbase
Characters: Blue, you
Summary: Can't shake those watcher ways (DEETS)
Warnings: ? notify me


While some rushed, leaping at the chance to leave, Blue lingered with the hesitant and stubborn who held back for a time. It wasn't for lack of curiosity; the artificial intelligence had given him the footage of life back in Exsilium, the possibility of life and continued hope. Fresh hope, even; who knew who was waiting for them below?

But after the whirlwind of conflict and mounting frustrations that suffocated the hold wall to wall, Blue longed for the chance to breathe again. And, in the same way one finds relief in opening the window of a stuffy house, Blue's mind and heart could feel refreshed...and itself again. It was easy to get lost in the emotions of others, so packed together and so heated; he needed time to recollect himself.

Recollect and reconsider. Collette had been right; it was time. And Gamora was right, too – there was too much chance for sinking back into the stagnant routines, broken up only by more disaster. He had a window of opportunity to consider, and it wasn't one to keep to himself.

The air of hope that came with the exodus bolstered the notion, and Blue, more himself again, could turn outward once more and consider these strange and fascinating people around him. It would be more on them than him, truly. He knew that. But he didn't know them.

So, by lingering as others prepared to leave, he gave his attention to the swirl of changing moods and thoughts, to the passing conversations and dreams around him – all the things within the reach of his mind. A little further than that, to those he deemed friends; their well-being mattered more than his, after all.

Comments

[firstroar]

Do you remember what it was like? [looking at her.] Death.

[gamora]

Yes.

( her afterlife might have been different than others thanks to adam and the soul gem. surrounded by love and happiness, at once completely aware of everyone that found themselves with her. the history of each individual, every thought and feeling.

how are you supposed to come back to a world without that? )

I doubt it's the same for everyone.

[firstroar]

[he lightly drags his fingers across his forehead, rustling his bangs.]

I don't remember it. Dying.

[gamora]

( that gets him a look and a raised eyebrow. )

Could have sworn they're memorable events.

( there's a an undercurrent of tell me how you died and i'll tell you how i did to her tone, however, because she hasn't met someone from a different universe who'd died and returned to life before coming to this one. )

[firstroar]

It... [frowning faintly, closing his eyes.] It's in a place in my heart I can only see pieces of. Some other world. More strangers, pulled from their homes, stuck together...

[he lets his hand drop away.] The memory isn't wholly mine. It's a dear friend's guilt tied to it. He blames himself for it, but I... [his head shakes faintly.] I'm not sure.

[gamora]

There's other places like this?

( That's... not particularly comforting, but if Gamora had been alive for Secret War she wouldn't find it so weird. )

Spend more time around him. Which past is the one I know happened to me depends on who I'm with.

( The farther she is from the memory of the Magnus, the more she remembers that the Badoon killed her family. But that's debatable and some days she's just sick of two timelines that merge into one. )

[firstroar]

[his mouth stretches, somewhere lost between a grimace and a smile before it fades again. his brow furrows. warm...heavy, behind his eyes. how–?

he takes a heavier breath to combat that feeling, and the sound of his exhale changes as his face finally settles on a smile. a pained one, but all the same.]

How could you hope to endure that? The past shifting so loosely...like sand. I couldn't...

[gamora]

( Gamora gives him a long look, face surprisingly blank of any of her usual disdain and contempt. it's as neutral as Gamora comes. )

I just do.

( she doesn't have a choice - it's that or start a slippery slope downwards into self loathing and self destruction; Gamora has come too close to that enough times in her life to do it again.

so she continues on, no matter what life throws at her. that's what she's always done, that's what she'll always do. )

[firstroar]

[just do.

the smile ebbs, leaving Blue to watch her with mixed feelings. very mixed. it feels unbearable, what's implied in all this talk...and she must be stronger than he's given her credit for before. and he's just...

he looks away slowly, staring ahead, his face still twisted up with discomfort and concern.]

It– [unsteady, already trailing.] Seems...

[he loses the thought and any sense of the moment for seconds more, his eyes squinting hard, seeing a shape reflected in the window. he can't hear himself make a sound while an unpleasant pressure and heat floods from his head throughout his body, buckling his knees and sending him down.]

[gamora]

( it's a reflex action, catching him, because gamora has really good reflexes and he's falling - one arm goes under his knees while the other grabs him under the shoulders, easily picking him up in her arms bridal style. )

Next time I'm letting you crack your skull open.

( it's not that she cares or anything like that. )

[firstroar]

[b-baka.

the friendly remark is muffled sound, overtaken by an awful, piercing tone that rises and falls almost in tandem with the wave that sent him toppling.

he looks confused, trying to blink back his focus out of the swirl. seeing Gamora at this angle is weird, isn't it? that wasn't what it was a second ago.]

What...?

[gamora]

( SIGH )

Never mind.

( and she's just going to start walking back to their room, because he's clearly in no state to just stand around staring at the stars. )

[firstroar]

[it takes a bit to understand the being carried part in relation to the moving part, with his body tensing up while he struggles with it...and slacking again as he understands and realizes he's got little chance to avoid this.

the humiliating part isn't being carried – it's having to be carried at all.

bleak, quiet:] I'm sorry. [he hates this.]

[gamora]

Don't mention it.

( she can make a stab at guessing what he's feeling, however, because Gamora knows how much she loathes other people assuming she's weak or in need of aid. lucky for her and unlucky for him, she's not the type to need it - but she won't think he's weak because of it.

just old.

but not mentioning this ever again will do wonders for them both, gamora thinks. )

[firstroar]

[maybe not bringing it up again, but this is staying close to the forefront of his mind. the absence of disgust or pity, particularly. Gamora doesn't have to even try to be admirable.

there's a lot on his mind besides this, and a debate on what to even say, should there be anything said at all. he's thinking about the pleasant notion that flickered by when Gamora spoke on dying. thinking about the guilt Koltira carries from the City on his behalf.

the closest he gets to saying anything, being set down at last, is holding onto her arm for a second longer, squeezing, but ultimately letting it go – words, too.]

[gamora]

( why bother say anything - his meaning is clear. she doesn't look back at him until she reaches the door, and only then it's a slight nod in his direct that she's not certain he sees. )