Peter Quill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nostalgiabomb) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2018-08-24 07:35 pm
nostalgiabomb) wrote in riverviewlogs2018-08-24 07:35 pm
[ open; ] the city streets are empty now
who: Peter Quill & open!
what: Quill is coming back from a canon update, which includes four years and the events of Infinity War. So he's going to be a little off his game.
when: August 24th and onward
where: All around Riverview & a bit outside the walls
warnings: none, aside from Quill having a pretty rough time
i. the sun always shines on tv;
[ Peter wastes a couple days, sitting in his apartment, staring at a wall. He catches Mantis hovering around, sometimes, and occasionally, he tries to send her a small, reassuring smile. Something that says, It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need a second. Groot doesn’t fully understand why Peter is so— weird, but the kid still recognizes that there’s something wildly wrong. And as the days drag on, Groot just drags over the Zune while Peter stares, offering Peter an earbud.
It’s on the third day that Peter realizes he can’t just— do this. He can’t keep moping. Because Mantis and Groot are clearly worried, and— what if the others show up? Peter did, after all. And Mantis and Groot are still here, hale and whole. So maybe the others will arrive, too. Any day now. And if they find out how completely useless he was while he waited, he’d never hear the end of it.
So he scrubs his face and announces that he’s going to take Groot to the beach.
Of course, about ten minutes after they arrive at the banks of the river for a day of fun in the sun, or whatever the hell Peter’s calling it, Groot immediately wanders away, slipping through the legs of the various beachgoers as he chases down one of those alien sugargliders.
Predictably, Peter panics as he works to shove past the crowd. ]
Groot—
Groot, get back here!
ii. new york groove;
[ A day or two later, Peter’s back at work. Unwise, considering he’s still injured, but the four walls of his apartment were quickly becoming suffocating.
His job with the Perimeter Guard, such as it is, is to scout the area, to map it out, to uncover valuable goods buried in the dirt or left abandoned in reasonable condition, and most days, he’s good at it. He’s agile and clever and does one hell of a job avoiding the monsters that lurk in the abandoned areas.
But today, he seems to be attracting trouble – though truthfully, he’s seeking it out, though he’s unconscious of it. Rather than veer out of the angry looking creatures’ way, he stumbles headlong into them. And for a while, he’s forging a decent path, shooting out huge, burning chunks of them and leaving the corpses to rot in the woods.
And then he’s not.
Peter never played Dungeons & Dragons as a kid, but if he did, he’d instantly recognize a Bulette when he sees one.
Or more accurately, he’d recognize a Bulette as it’s leaping at him, all gnashing teeth and sharp claws and hard armored plates. Peter manages to dodge out of the way, but only barely, and he goes tumbling and rolling across the jungle floor.
Little help? ]
iii. yesterday once more;
[ Peter was in the middle of wandering the aisles of Blu-Rays and DVDs in some electronic goods stores. In his arms is a stack of movies, old favorites and new ones he had picked out based solely on how interesting he found the covers.
The criteria for his current selections: Would the other Guardians like these? So far, he has picked out The Wizard of Oz for Groot and The Dark Crystal for Mantis. Along the way, he picks up Predator for Rocket and Rambo for Drax, because, well, they're going to be here eventually, right? And the films would be decent ice breakers, once they arrive
And he was in the middle of reluctantly looking for something for Nebula (would she have a good enough sense of humor about it if he picked up Robocop, or would she just threaten to sew his face to his balls like she usually does?), except right now, he's frozen in front of a shelf, completely zoned out while he faces a copy of Footloose.
Sorry if he's in your way, fellow patron. ]
iv. turn to stone;
[ It's been over a week since he's been back, and Peter's out on a very, very late night grocery run. He's been putting off getting them various odds and ends – paper towels, boxes of cereal, various snacks – and apparently he's decided tonight's the night—
(because the bed is too empty, and the atmosphere in the apartment is too fucking heavy, and Groot and Mantis are so fucking sad, and he can't stay in there, he really can't, not a single minute more, because shouldn't the other Guardians have been here by now? Shouldn't Gamora have come back with him, since they left together?
Why isn't she here?)
—because he's trying to be productive.
He's also decided, apparently, that baskets and carts are completely unnecessary. So here he is now, a former thief turned Guardian of the Galaxy, juggling his items in his arms as he stands in the refrigerated dairy section. He shuffles things around and reaches for a jug.
And fumbles it.
The plastic bursts open as the jug lands, milk splashing across the floor. It pools around his boots, and for a second, he just stares at it all before he lets out a helpless laugh, scrubbing his face.
One might think that life in space would have erased Peter's love of Terran idioms, but it hasn't, really. He used them whenever he could. Phrases like "killing two birds with one stone," or "letting the cat out of the bag," or going the "whole nine yards" were pretty common from him as he grew up on the Ravager ship.
There's another Terran saying that Peter uses sometimes: Don't cry over spilled milk.
Guess who's trying desperately not to do just that? ]
what: Quill is coming back from a canon update, which includes four years and the events of Infinity War. So he's going to be a little off his game.
when: August 24th and onward
where: All around Riverview & a bit outside the walls
warnings: none, aside from Quill having a pretty rough time
i. the sun always shines on tv;
[ Peter wastes a couple days, sitting in his apartment, staring at a wall. He catches Mantis hovering around, sometimes, and occasionally, he tries to send her a small, reassuring smile. Something that says, It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need a second. Groot doesn’t fully understand why Peter is so— weird, but the kid still recognizes that there’s something wildly wrong. And as the days drag on, Groot just drags over the Zune while Peter stares, offering Peter an earbud.
It’s on the third day that Peter realizes he can’t just— do this. He can’t keep moping. Because Mantis and Groot are clearly worried, and— what if the others show up? Peter did, after all. And Mantis and Groot are still here, hale and whole. So maybe the others will arrive, too. Any day now. And if they find out how completely useless he was while he waited, he’d never hear the end of it.
So he scrubs his face and announces that he’s going to take Groot to the beach.
Of course, about ten minutes after they arrive at the banks of the river for a day of fun in the sun, or whatever the hell Peter’s calling it, Groot immediately wanders away, slipping through the legs of the various beachgoers as he chases down one of those alien sugargliders.
Predictably, Peter panics as he works to shove past the crowd. ]
Groot—
Groot, get back here!
ii. new york groove;
[ A day or two later, Peter’s back at work. Unwise, considering he’s still injured, but the four walls of his apartment were quickly becoming suffocating.
His job with the Perimeter Guard, such as it is, is to scout the area, to map it out, to uncover valuable goods buried in the dirt or left abandoned in reasonable condition, and most days, he’s good at it. He’s agile and clever and does one hell of a job avoiding the monsters that lurk in the abandoned areas.
But today, he seems to be attracting trouble – though truthfully, he’s seeking it out, though he’s unconscious of it. Rather than veer out of the angry looking creatures’ way, he stumbles headlong into them. And for a while, he’s forging a decent path, shooting out huge, burning chunks of them and leaving the corpses to rot in the woods.
And then he’s not.
Peter never played Dungeons & Dragons as a kid, but if he did, he’d instantly recognize a Bulette when he sees one.
Or more accurately, he’d recognize a Bulette as it’s leaping at him, all gnashing teeth and sharp claws and hard armored plates. Peter manages to dodge out of the way, but only barely, and he goes tumbling and rolling across the jungle floor.
Little help? ]
iii. yesterday once more;
[ Peter was in the middle of wandering the aisles of Blu-Rays and DVDs in some electronic goods stores. In his arms is a stack of movies, old favorites and new ones he had picked out based solely on how interesting he found the covers.
The criteria for his current selections: Would the other Guardians like these? So far, he has picked out The Wizard of Oz for Groot and The Dark Crystal for Mantis. Along the way, he picks up Predator for Rocket and Rambo for Drax, because, well, they're going to be here eventually, right? And the films would be decent ice breakers, once they arrive
And he was in the middle of reluctantly looking for something for Nebula (would she have a good enough sense of humor about it if he picked up Robocop, or would she just threaten to sew his face to his balls like she usually does?), except right now, he's frozen in front of a shelf, completely zoned out while he faces a copy of Footloose.
Sorry if he's in your way, fellow patron. ]
iv. turn to stone;
[ It's been over a week since he's been back, and Peter's out on a very, very late night grocery run. He's been putting off getting them various odds and ends – paper towels, boxes of cereal, various snacks – and apparently he's decided tonight's the night—
(because the bed is too empty, and the atmosphere in the apartment is too fucking heavy, and Groot and Mantis are so fucking sad, and he can't stay in there, he really can't, not a single minute more, because shouldn't the other Guardians have been here by now? Shouldn't Gamora have come back with him, since they left together?
Why isn't she here?)
—because he's trying to be productive.
He's also decided, apparently, that baskets and carts are completely unnecessary. So here he is now, a former thief turned Guardian of the Galaxy, juggling his items in his arms as he stands in the refrigerated dairy section. He shuffles things around and reaches for a jug.
And fumbles it.
The plastic bursts open as the jug lands, milk splashing across the floor. It pools around his boots, and for a second, he just stares at it all before he lets out a helpless laugh, scrubbing his face.
One might think that life in space would have erased Peter's love of Terran idioms, but it hasn't, really. He used them whenever he could. Phrases like "killing two birds with one stone," or "letting the cat out of the bag," or going the "whole nine yards" were pretty common from him as he grew up on the Ravager ship.
There's another Terran saying that Peter uses sometimes: Don't cry over spilled milk.
Guess who's trying desperately not to do just that? ]
IV
All she wants to do is grab a few food items so that she can indulge in her favorite new pastime of eating junk food. Of course, she still loves her customary glass of milk after a long performance and there is none in her personal fridge in the communal housing floor.
When the gallon of milk hits the floor, she feels a pain at the waste until she sees the person responsible for such a horrible travesty and finds herself feeling sorry for him.]
It's a shame there aren't like ten cats at the ready to help you with this mess.
no subject
But he freezes when he hears a voice nearby. He turns, eyes a little glassy, and a guilty expression on his face. ]
Uh, yeah.
[ His voice is slightly thick before he clears his throat. A little more dryly, ]
Although having a bunch of cats in a grocery store is probably some kinda health code violation.
no subject
She's not even sure if there is making this better.
Maybe that's why Lady M never let her get too close to people back home.]
Perhaps, but I won't tell if you don't. Besides, where I'm from, the cats are part fish, so no violation, right?
no subject
But he pauses, frowning a little as he adjusts the items still in his grip. ]
... The cats are part fish.
[ And he echoes it back, part disbelieving, part curious.
He's imagining like cat mermaids – cats on top, fish on the bottom. ]
no subject
Yes, well, Ragna is a world that is mostly water. So, even the people have gills and webbing between their fingers sometimes. One of the members of the flying squadron that is attached to my group back home is from there originally. He and his siblings have displays as merpeople with the mercats with them. It's rather cute.
Although, there's nothing like watching a mercat jump out of the water to snatch a jellyfish out of the air.
[See, Peter, you're right.... And it's weirder than you thought.]
no subject
... Wait. Why are the jellyfish in the air—
[ ... No. Maybe that's not an important question, but the topic has certainly arrested him in his downward spiral.
He scrubs his face again, eyes gritty from exhaustion, before he breathes out a laugh. ]
That's definitely one of the weirder things I've heard.
[ And Peter lived in space. That's saying a lot. ]
no subject
[Hey, he's not about to cry and he's starting to laugh. It's all been worth it in her book.]
But, to be fair, I still think the residents of Voldor were a bit strange. They were cat people.
[Mikumo is also from space. Her space is just extra, okay.]
no subject
[ And he says it automatically. He'd seen advertisements cropping up, here and there; the odd flyer for the movie nights and romantic dinners, the themed desserts and candies, the decorations cropping up in the streets and stores.
The one he celebrated last year had been... nice, when he didn't think it would be. As a kid, Peter spent a few Valentine's Days with an empty basket attached to the front of his desk, with a card from his teacher and maybe a box of conversation hearts. When Dragosta rolled around in Riverview, he didn't take much stock in it.
Now, though, he frowns a little, gaze growing a little distant before he shakes himself, meets her gaze again. ]
I think the weirdest I've got is a talking tree as a teammate.
no subject
[Also, she never put much stock in love festivals... Since she's never had so much as a strong crush on anyone.]
A talking tree? Really?
no subject
[ By which he means, the kid specifically can say, “I,” “am,” and “Groot.” ]
He’s asleep back in the apartment. He’s—
[ He pauses before letting out a quick laugh. ]
He’s kind of a menace.
no subject
[Just imagine what she could do with this information to Freyja. A talking tree. Or Makina.]
He can't be worse than an 18 year old boy with no common sense trying to fly a fighter jet.
no subject
[ But there's fondness in his voice, at least. Groot is absolutely a monster, but he's their monster.
After a second, he rouses himself shifting the items in his hands, poking at the broken remains of the plastic carton at his feet. He takes a rallying breath, glancing around the store. ]
I should... probably go pay for all this.
no subject
[But she can tell that he loves the talking tree, even if he doesn't say it aloud.
She watches him and feels more sympathy for him. It's obviously difficult for him, whatever he's going through.]
Perhaps, but I think you forgot your plant food for you tree. Terrible plant parent.
no subject
He mostly subsists on a diet of sunlight, the bugs he finds on the sidewalk, and shitty cereal.
[ And while he’d normally give the box a demonstrative little shake, his arms are currently full with the things he plans on buying. He instead just nods toward it, where it’s tucked against his side. ]
We’re good.
no subject
Well, I will pass on the bugs, but I think I'll help you take this milk to the front to avoid any other lamentable cat-less escapades.
no subject
But when she provides that explanation, he freezes for a second. Just— kind of stares at her, completely taken aback. He wonders, for a second, if she's just that nice, or if he looks just that bad.
Either way, he recovers, taking a quick breath and putting on a small, brittle sort of smile. ]
I'm sure the clerk will appreciate not having another mess to clean.
[ A beat, then, a little uncertainly, ]
... Thanks.
no subject
While the door is open, she gets her own gallon and gives him a soft, quiet smile.]
You're welcome. You seem like you could use the help and I could use the karma.
no subject
Well, just as long as we're both getting something out of this. Hate to think I'm just a charity case.
no subject
Oh, well, I could always put you to work in return for this. I'm sure that my club could find a use for a handsome man like you. Creepy Tree Parent or not.
no subject
[ he repeats it back flatly, eyes narrows and mouth twisted to one side in distaste.
But, considering he's out in some random grocery store, shopping in that weird hour between "way too late" and "way too early," admittedly looking like some lost kid in a giant shopping mall—
Well. The shoe kind of fits, doesn't it? ]
It's Peter Quill, by the way. Just so we can avoid making "Creepy Tree Dad" a thing.
no subject
For the record, I was talking about your talking tree, not you. You just seem....distracted. But I'm Mikumo Guynemer. [She puts one of the gallons down on the conveyor belts and takes a step back so that he can go first. He has more items.] I perform at the club, Element. You should come watch. With or without your tree.
no subject
Element? [ He repeats it back. He's pretty sure he's seen it, but Peter almost exclusively haunts Riverview's dives. Mostly because they tend to be cheaper and a little more familiar. ]
Yeah. Maybe I'll come take a look.
[ He gestures toward the carton of milk as it moves down the line. ] And I'll try not to break anything.
no subject
Yes, it's one of the more packed nightclubs in this area. If you decide to come, you should come a little earlier in the night to get a table. Otherwise.... Well, I hope you like being packed back-to-back.
[Like sea spiders in a can.]
Just make sure that you take care of yourself and your goods. Otherwise, you'll just be back here, staring at the dairy cases in despair.
no subject
[ This, a little airily, in a way that's clearly forced. (A guy having an existential crisis in front of fridges isn't likely to shake it off that quickly, after all.)
The clerk rings him up, and Peter sheepishly explains the mess he left, happily paying for spilled milk he left in the aisle. That done, he scoops up his bag, mindful to keep the bottom of it supported so he doesn't lose any more goods on his way out. ]
I, uh. I appreciate the help. It was nice meetin' you.