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introlog #3; guerrilla forces

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gamora;

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[ Simulation or no, the fact that she may have been bested by a floaty plant, or whatever, is still going to be a source of some amusement for him. But knowing Gamora, and her hatred of looking foolish, he tries to wrangle his grin into something more muted. ]

So what do they look like? I like flying as much as the next guy, but not that much.

i have arrived u nerd

[godslay]

[ It's a good thing Gamora isn't too irritated, because otherwise, the ship would surely start reacting; as it stands, the most is a vague flicker of one of the displays. ]

They look... fluffy.

[ That is both the worst and only way she can think to describe them. ]

The seeds are long and white, and easily detach from the plant.

prompto;

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Oh, I dunno.

[ And his voice is bright, unconcerned, as he gets to his feet, heading over to join Prompto at the skull-cave's wall. ]

I think it's got a kind of rustic charm. A cozy kinda fixer-upper.

[punshots]

[ Prompto laughs gustily at that. ]

Dude, if you wanna make a home outta this place? It's aaaaall yourself. I'd just, uh, be careful. In case the guys who drew these come back anytime soon.

[ From all the bones, it doesn't seem like this place has been used in quite some time, but still. Prompto indicates one of the pictures, where there is definitely a handful of bodies being laid to rest. ]

Spooky.

mantis;

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[ He frowns at that bit of information, swallowing it down like a bitter pill. ]

... I really don't remember any of that.

[ Which, well, isn't exactly news by now, but it sucks. Months of time, just— gone, and he doubted he was going to get them back.

But, okay, no point in dwelling about stuff he can't do anything about, so he huffs out a sigh, moving to shift the topic of conversation. ]

You two have a place here, then?

matt murdock;

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Your guess is as good as mine.

[ ... actually, maybe not, because Peter's current guess is, "Maybe a giant creature wanted to carve itself a really awesome helmet, the likes of which would be best suited for the album cover of a metal rock band, and so it did and it was." ]

Maybe someone just, you know, really liked skulls.

diana cavendish;

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[ don't be silly he totally loves... Earth history......... can't get enough of it........ . . . ]

Yeah. Maybe they just had a change of heart and were like, "You know that ritual murder thing? Weird, right? We should probably stop doing that."

[ it's nice to dream. ]

I guess we can ask someone in the town. Big thing like this so close to a city, I've gotta imagine someone knows what's up with this thing.

cole;

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[ A pause, and Peter turns to look at the kid again. ]

You sure you don't need sleep?

[ Because based on the way he looks, all pale skin and bruised eyes, he definitely looks like he does. ]

You could wait back at the boats, if you wanted.

kaden;

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[ The change in the guy's demeanor is almost funny, and Peter bites back his initial urge to laugh. Instead, he casts a quick smile up at the guy, where he's perched on the teeth. ]

You were so adventurous just a second ago. What happened?

angel;

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[ Peter, for his part, is used to the sudden thrust of a ship coming to life, to the quiet shift of artificial gravity kicking on, so when they escape from the station's artificial atmosphere, he's already throttling back on the thrusters, slowing the ship down.

He casts Angel an almost apologetic look – almost – but then the ship judders a little. He frowns down at the controls. ]

... That was weird.

[ And he flips through the ship's system diagnostics. ]

Seatbelts, by the way.

[ A mild, distracted sort of reminder. ]

maya;

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I guess it would be interesting, if this turned out to be some kind of to-do list. "Fold laundry. Tidy kitchen. Return Jebediah's scythe."

[ Is that sarcasm? It's absolutely sarcasm.

But even having said that, he continues onto the next rune, then the next. ]

What's your name, by the way?

bellamy;

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"For"?

[ He echoes it back distractedly, working at the console. He glances over, pointing out a switch on the other guy's side. ]

Hit that for me, would you?

[ And he returns to his own controls. ]

I don't really pilot for anyone.

[ Not anymore, anyway. Sure, he worked with the Ravagers – more specifically, for Yondu – but more often than not, he was taking the Milano out for joyrides, for some much needed personal space. ]

Aside from myself and my team, anyway.

rocket;

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Ugh.

[ And in spite of the annoyance in his voice, it’s drowned out by that same feeling of amusement – that particular delight of talking shit behind someone’s back. Then again, if Drax were here, the two of them would still gladly do this in front of his face, so apparently not much has changed. ]

Bastard nearly wrecked my ship.

[ And only Peter is allowed to do that, thank you very much.

The ship’s flight seems to smooth out, the interior lights and the lights on the control panels finally steadying. Peter’s attention flicks over to the screen, and the warning lights have seem to have shifted to a pleasant, happy green, signaling that they’re finally harmonizing, whatever the hell that means. ]

senren;

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[ Peter wisely decides to express that his own luck is basically the same – it seems far too much like tempting fate to say as much, after all, and a couple of these serpents was already two too many, in his eyes. ]

That was magic, then?

[ Well, okay, it was obviously magic, but Peter has to make allowances. He's seen some tech that might as well have been magic, but it turned out to just be some complicated machinery at work. ]

mini event; olympia-wyver holiday ball

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gamora;

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[ He huffs out a bitter laugh at that, lifting his head to cast her a flat look that his mask hides.

He wants to argue and remind her how seriously pitiful that display had been, how much of a chicken-shit he must have looked like, but he can't dredge up the effort for it.

Instead, he shakes his head, and with a bare hint of humor he doesn't feel in the slightest, ]

All this crap for some dumb mushrooms.

gamora; again.......... . . .

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[ Even if he recognizes the threat as an empty one, even if he knows that Gamora isn't heartless enough to leave her (possibly very drunk) friends in a lurch, Peter still sighs a little, holding up a hand in surrender. ]

No, hey, c'mon. Don't go anywhere. I'll try and behave.

angel;

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[ The criticism, light as it is, doesn't seem to bother him much – in fact, he just smiles brightly in the face of it.

He does tend to err on the side of recklessness. ]

Peter Quill. [ And he supplies it smoothly enough. ] Folks call me Star-Lord.

[ No, they don't. Unless they don't know any better. ]

mantis;

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[ He takes the napkin, glancing up at her to remind her that, like, water is wet or something, but he pauses when he sees that weird, twisted expression on her face.

Mantis might not take well to whatever further complaints Peter might've had – not like Rocket, who probably would've snapped back at him, or Gamora, who would have blandly informed him he should have moved faster to avoid it – and drunk as she is, there seemed to be an equal chance of her fluffing up like a pissed-off cat, as she had with the Olympian dude earlier, or getting really, legitimately upset.

So he huffs out a sigh instead. ]

It's cool. [ This, as he's dabbing at the damp spot on his sleeve. ] No harm done.

You should probably drink some more water, though.

introlog #6; city of secrets

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gamora;

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Or—

[ And he breaks off, hesitant. He takes a second to gather up his thoughts, then, ]

Or we could just... stay in Nadril.

Stay out of all the weird as hell politics while we have the chance, you know?

bucky;

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Well, in that case—

[ Peter is definitely pouring out a second glass for his new best friend – nothing insane, obviously, just the same amount he poured for himself. He slides it over to Bucky, as he lifts his glass, tipping it toward him almost in toast. ]

Bottom's up.

[ Aaand Peter figures that whatever the hell this stuff is – and it smells awful by the way – can't be any worse than some of the shit he's had out in some of the shadiest, dive stations out in space. He's pretty sure he chugged down something brewed specifically for cleaning engines, at some point, and took at least a case of it back to his ship, once.

So this shouldn't be anything new. He offers the contents of his glass one last dubious look before he slams it back—

—and immediately regrets it. To his credit, he does keep it down, but only barely, and once he swallows it, he coughs and gags into the crook of his arm, eyes watering.

Once the fit passes, he offers up a strangled, ]

... Not bad.

[ in a voice that's at least two octaves too high. ]

clarke;

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[ Peter similarly gives the guy a look, though it's nowhere near as loaded or pointed. It's something that definitely says, You better get going before she makes good on that, buddy.

Thankfully, the guy takes his leave, grumbling to himself. He's definitely bitching about tourists, though not in so many words.

As the dude shuffles off, Peter snorts out a laugh. ]

You might wanna, like, jump in on a game, otherwise you're gonna get more weird shit like that. I'm pretty sure the dare he just gave you is mild to these guys.

thor;

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[ Yeah, okay.

Admittedly? This is a little better, warmth-wise Not that Peter's liable to admit that aloud, with his words. Better to pass this all off as a joke, because like hell is he going to tell the dude that he had a decent idea.

But Peter isn't a hug-y kind of a guy. Tactile, sure; an arm thrown around someone's shoulders, or a companionable clap or punch on someone's upper arm, but hugs are... weird. It's why he holds himself a little awkwardly, a little rigidly. ]

I'm, uh. Peter, by the way. Peter Quill. Folks call me Star-Lord.

[ no, they do not. But Peter's still trying to make it happen. ]