[ Nebula already knew without question that she was one of the universe's favorite chew toys. She told herself again and again that it was fine — at least unlike most people she could take whatever it threw at her and still remain standing. She'd been forged in cruelty and violence, there was nothing that could shake her... At least, that's what she told herself again and again as she ignored the soft underbelly of what her nature really was. ]

[ That nature that was so much more delicate and desperate that she'd ever be able to vocalize. Nebula had always wanted a home and again and again the universe took it away from her. First her home world, then any believed sisterhood with Gamora, then gaining that and losing her (Gamora), losing that small family that had let them in, nearly losing Rocket, losing the rest again... And now, the space she had created here could not be hers - would never be. A fake life forged for a person who would be more at home with who they were and how they existed than she would ever be. ]

[ It's not her home - the Horizon. But it sure as hell feels a lot like losing another home, another family. And she is so damned tired of loss after loss after loss. Especially when it feels like this was so much greater than it should have been, that something important slid from her grasp. ]

[ Now, she's in the Horizon and after deciding that what was here previously had been too personal... She didn't want people to know so much about her, especially if any relationship was so stupidly fragile... Now, now her space in the horizon has become the inside of a ship - ]

[ It's a decently sized craft, but it's not meant to hold a lot of people. It hosts a dedicated piloting/flight area and crew area. A singular bed, simple and not built for comfort, and a wall dedicated to being decorated in weapons. While there are other spaces - the maintenance room, a simply kept bathroom - this ship is kept neat, tidy, and with little more going for it. If anyone knew - and all of one person might - it was the very ship that Nebula had once spent four years alone in trying to hunt her father like a dog. ]

[ The main view - the draw of the ship - is that the large windows give the view of a sea of stars in all directions. A nebula - not this nebula - bursts and colors in the visual distance. ]

[ Nebula can occasionally be found leaning against the balcony overlooking part of the pilot's area - one elbow against a rail why the other nurses a cup of something (your guess!). If she hears someone's footsteps, she only inclines her head in their direction with an ill-amused kirk of the lip: ]


Sorry. All out of fuel.

[ It's a bad joke to say there's no going anywhere - even in this ship. But if only the other person knew how literally she had that experience once, in a ship dead in space with nowhere to go and no oxygen. Her mouth twitches at the thought, she looks away: ]

Stupid joke.

[ It's half an apology she doesn't fully utter - she goes back to downing her drink. ] I shouldn't have said that.

[ Closer, not quite. She doesn't explain herself. ]

[ But if that's not a good enough option: Feel free to explore the ship! Question how someone can live like this. You can even notice that a table seems to be a makeshift ping-pong table... lacking the ping pongs. But there is a folded up shiny paper football. Maybe she's not all work and no play? ]