[ Nebula knows she's guilty of heinous things. Sure, many of her actions could be attributed to her father and his abuse. But not the execution of it. Not the fact she carried them out versus doing something about it - versus what? Death? Hadn't she awaited for it by the hand of Gamora? She'd known she was a tool until death, nothing more and nothing less. And some part of her had longed for that peace. ]
[ It was just never outweighed with the violent need to survive. A thing that's not been stamped out of her, even if her beliefs are no longer the same. Even if now she is firmly on the side of good she wasn't always - And here this man. This kid, she aggressively decides, acts as if he knows more than he does. ]
[ Why? Because he's seen but a speck of the immeasurable pain she lives in? ]
[ She's been nice for so long. She's kept her head low, she's tried (in her own way) to be agreeable and something in the way he speaks - in the way his tone softens to something that feels pitiable even if it isn't swells in her. She does not tense, but she does lunge. She does shove an arm -blessedly the more organic one than pure metal - into his chest as she shoves him into a tree. The sound that leaves her mouth is a guttural, feral growl as she stares into him. Once black orbs, glinting instead in the light of the fire all the brunt of anger and self-hated she's held back. ]
Don't. Pretend. You know a damned thing about me.
[ A different Nebula would go for the knife at her waist - always ready - she doesn't even if her gaze remains hard. Even if she keeps the arm and pressure against him: ]
I didn't choose to be this. [ She didn't. Nebula would never be able to admit it to herself, but her nature would have been far different - Once, she'd been a different person entirely. ] I did choose to do some of the things I've done. If you want, I'll show you.
[ It's low and dangerous - the hint of the assassin who'd once been known as the biggest sadist in the universe. To her own ears, the threat is only half of what it once was. She's angry, but she's not that person anymore. ]
This body is mine. As is it's unending pain. I deserve it and I will make it my own. I don't need your opinions.
no subject
[ It was just never outweighed with the violent need to survive. A thing that's not been stamped out of her, even if her beliefs are no longer the same. Even if now she is firmly on the side of good she wasn't always - And here this man. This kid, she aggressively decides, acts as if he knows more than he does. ]
[ Why? Because he's seen but a speck of the immeasurable pain she lives in? ]
[ She's been nice for so long. She's kept her head low, she's tried (in her own way) to be agreeable and something in the way he speaks - in the way his tone softens to something that feels pitiable even if it isn't swells in her. She does not tense, but she does lunge. She does shove an arm -blessedly the more organic one than pure metal - into his chest as she shoves him into a tree. The sound that leaves her mouth is a guttural, feral growl as she stares into him. Once black orbs, glinting instead in the light of the fire all the brunt of anger and self-hated she's held back. ]
Don't. Pretend. You know a damned thing about me.
[ A different Nebula would go for the knife at her waist - always ready - she doesn't even if her gaze remains hard. Even if she keeps the arm and pressure against him: ]
I didn't choose to be this. [ She didn't. Nebula would never be able to admit it to herself, but her nature would have been far different - Once, she'd been a different person entirely. ] I did choose to do some of the things I've done. If you want, I'll show you.
[ It's low and dangerous - the hint of the assassin who'd once been known as the biggest sadist in the universe. To her own ears, the threat is only half of what it once was. She's angry, but she's not that person anymore. ]
This body is mine. As is it's unending pain. I deserve it and I will make it my own. I don't need your opinions.