abraxaslogs | (no subject)

Well, yeah. Gives us more of a reason to make fun of 'em, don't it?

[ Rocket's toothy grin comes off as slightly menacing, but he shrugs nonchalantly. He's got no love for actors either, but at least they do their job decently enough. These guys are trying to do something, and they're doing it badly. You can't even give 'em credit for that kind of laziness.

But he hums now, partially in agreement to Nebula's next statement, but also ... weirdly appreciating the truth in it. He's thinking along the same lines that she is — about how the majority of these people would never stand a chance against some of the nittier, grittier parts of their home. And that's kind of nice. It means they were never subject to that kind of harshness; they were never victims of that pain.

It kinda makes him freakin' jealous, but he wouldn't wish what he'd been through on anyone, animal, plant, or person. ]

Hmm.

[ He takes another sip of his own drink. ]

They do look like they're making the rules up as they go. Seems like a pretty stupid game, if you ask me.

I'd rather stab my own eyes out than watch that.

[ Nebula... Well, given that her eye color has changed to the original Luphom lilac maybe there's some real details to play in there. Or maybe it's just Nebula being wryly dramatic over having to watch a performance (it's both). ]

[ She downs her drink in consideration before offering: ]

It is. So why are we watching them again?

[ Because when they came in they thought it would be fun. Now. There's some hollow ache she feels in her bones - longing. She wants to be back on Knowhere. It's a good thing she just finished the drink or she'd be doing it again, instead she tips the cup on its side with a metallic finger and rolls her eyes. ]

I dunno. Thought it'd be funny.

[ There's no drama here, no stupid banter, no tension or a bunch of spoiled, shitty, rowdy players with aggression issues about to get into it with each other over something trivial enough to be hilarious.

There's no typical bar fight.

Rocket should be above this kind of thing, and he mostly is, but maybe sometimes living this new life where things are calmer than they've ever been (aside from all of the weird god shit in the background, of course), where he hasn't set foot on a new foreign planet, hasn't been in a spaceship, hasn't flown ... it's got him feeling itchy. It's a low hum of pent up energy wanting to be free. And the kind of adrenaline rush he gets here ain't anything like being a Guardian of the Galaxy.

He exhales. ]

Turns out it's just boring.

[ She didn't think it was funny, not in the same way Rocket did. It was... amusing to watch them scramble, surely. Always had been or so she thinks. She remembers more than a few times in some planetary gambling ring or even among groups - like the Ravagers - where she could roll her eyes at the shenanigans and hope that someone really did stab the other. It was often a disappointment, but not always. It was more fun with Rocket, if there was time for it but Nebula always seemed to have a list. ]

[ The list was remarkably small today as it felt it had been for a while. Solvunn offers too much time, in her opinion, and her own energy is restless. She thinks they're the same as she finishes off her drink as she watches a man fail horribly at a bluff. Nothing happens other than a little swearing and pushing over of some pieces. She breathes a laugh. ]

You can say that again. Wanna get out of here?

[ She casts him a look. The question has a double meaning in her heart, because she's tired of this planet. She's tired of feeling trapped - perhaps doubly so, because from the moment she arrived she hadn't felt like herself. The memory issues that had persisted in the last month while the battles had fought just showed her more... So, she realizes that double-meaning, and punctuates it with: ]

We might find some scraps in that crafter's area. I think I'm done drinking.

[ Ain't no one gotta tell him twice. Watching the guy flub up what he thinks should have been a winning hand if he'd pulled another underhanded move would have been more entertaining. As it is, it's just a stupid game with stupid rules and he doesn't care who the hell ends up winning in the end.

He downs the last of his drink with intent, letting it slap back against the table's top with a solid sound, and then he pulls back from his seat and gets to his feet.

He doesn't think about how much her question could apply to more than just this situation, this afternoon, this boring event. He's passed that by this point; he's come to (mostly) accept it. ]

Yeah, let's definitely get outta here.

[ He meets eyes with the bartender and gives him a quick wave as the other man nods in turn. Weird not having to pay for this shit with coin, but there are always other ways to compensate. He's probably gonna be fixing some broken fence or a squeaky door hinge in a few days. ]

Got something in mind?

[ Nebula waits, just to see, before nodding and moving. She rolls the shoulder with the metal arm in the motion. Exiting the gambling den back to the streets of Nocwich she scoffs a laugh. ]

Enough parts to make a blaster would be nice, but that's not happening.

[ They hardly have the right equipment here. At least she can satisfy herself with the small amount of melee weapons she's acquired, but it's Nebula. She'll never have enough. He probably agrees, though he's more into guns. She shakes her head. ]

Just figured at least we might find something useful. Worse case, a big enough piece can be melded into something else. [ She's not sure what - she just feels antsy, like she needs to do something. And she hates that. ]

Even if we could, we ain't gonna be able to bring it back to Solvunn. They got rules about that shit.

[ They're stupid rules, but they're rules nevertheless. And yeah, it makes him a little bitter and a little mournful, and it also means his Horizon's gonna be chock-full of guns and blasters and guns and guns and guns once he's finished with his ship, because it's the only place he really gets free reign.

Even if none of it is really real. ]

Yeah, you got a point. I could never turn down a good scavenge anyway.

If it's in parts, not like they'd know. Strange rules aside, it's not like I don't keep finding weapons.

[ Her spear... Now, the sword that's back in her room. How does she keep finding them? She can't really say, but she does and they feel right. The spear's never even needed sharpened- ]

[ She shakes her head, weary. Flexes her hand - the metal one - instinctively. So much of this planet's metal looks and feels like scrap, especially in comparison to it. Even this much feels like an idle waste of time, something to do than not... ]

It might be our lucky day. [ Grumbled, ] Not that I've seen much luck lately.

Yeah. Depends on the weapon, though. Guns ain't gonna get us any goodwill with the people, believe me I've brought it up once or twice.

[ The Solvunn locals would rather deal with pitchforks and knives, and that's ... well, it's gonna get 'em all killed one day, he's sure of it. But Rocket has lived here long enough to actually care (heaven forbid) about not getting shunned out of the commune now. This is what happens when you find a place you don't mind living in, huh? You start to think about consequences.

Gross. ]

We make our own luck. Remember?

[ Trusting in some greater universal force is stupid and it's pointless and it leads to disappointment and expectation of something you should work on for yourself. Besides, any time he ever used to rely on luck or the forces beyond him has wound up with him getting shit-all. Usually the death of someone he cared about.

And now as they continue in the direction of a pile of scrap-metal bundled behind shoddy fencing, he doesn't turn around to speak, but he asks: ]

That hand doing okay?

[ She scoffs a breath that's almost a laugh - certainly more noticeable to him than to others. ]

That's because they've never seen one. They also think they'll always be safe.

[ "As long as they have their gods," goes unsaid. She swallows back the more ready thing, the thing that'd been settling on her shoulders in the interim. War wasn't a far off thing. Her earliest memories included the massacre of her people, her family. She doesn't - won't let - want Solvunn to come to that. Even if, unlike Rocket, she doesn't want to stay there longer than necessary, doesn't feel quite at home in it - she still cares enough to not see that happen. ]

[ She doesn't say it, but maybe he feels it enough in the way she steps down as they turn into the crafting area. Her mouth tugged downward as she shakes her head: ]

You make plenty of luck. I've never had much of it, given or made.

[ It's true enough. Brute forcing things had never worked in her favor and what - didn't her attempt to kill Thanos end in being tortured and Gamora killed? Didn't her mere existence in the past make things worse? She's the sole reason Thanos was able to return, afterall. It only makes sense that the same luck plagued her now.

And of course she has to fumble, because Nebula's never been good at lying as she shrugs her shoulder and turns away. ]

It moves, so it's fine.

[ not helpful nebula ]

I think they've seen 'em and they don't like 'em. [ And while Nebula doesn't have to say it, Rocket does. ] They think they can rely on their gods for help when it comes down to it.

[ Which is equally as stupid, but one raccoon ain't gonna change the minds of hundreds-year-old traditions. And he's tried. He's thought about smuggling all manner of weaponry from Nocwich, but Wanda had given him that warning real early on and surprisingly, he's abided by it.

He spares the crafting stations for anything useful or particularly shiny, or anything that might catch his attention.

And during that time, he shrugs in response to Nebula brushing his innocent question off. ]

Uh-huh. You know, I haven't looked at it in a while.

Yeah, and we've seen enough planets who've made that mistake.

[ Mumbled, idly. Plenty of people think they're safe until they're not. Too many rely on gods or something else. It's that why the Guardians existed, to defend those who couldn't? ... Not that she's a Guardian anymore, is she? ]

[ Her mouth is dry as she folds arms across her chest. ]

I haven't done any heavy-lifting. What am I going to use it for, shearing sheep?

[ She has, of course, not used it at all. ]

Well, do you wanna shear sheep?

[ Look, he wouldn't begrudge her of that choice if it's what she wants to do. New times, new lives, etc. etc.

He's working in the freakin' hospitality sector now, while tinkering with shit in his spare time like a regular 9-5er.

Anything's possible. ]