riverviewlogs | ( closed ) but never break.

Entry tags:

( closed ) but never break.

who: Gamora and Peter Quill
what: Soulmates Shenanigans
when: September 5th-8th (maybe)
where: ?????
warnings: People who are frustratingly bad at feelings.

[ Gamora has discovered two things since her encounters with that new flavor circulating around the city. One: Peter Quill takes up a lot of space in a very small bed. And two: she happens to like sharing that very small bed with the aforementioned Peter Quill.

Not that she's said that to him. Or mentioned the nights spent in his bed. Or done it again since – though that doesn't mean she hasn't been tempted to do so; there have been evenings when she's paused by her own bed, looking over to Peter's and considering crawling under the blankets before he comes in for the night or, on later evenings, nudging him over again to demand a spot on the bed.

But she doesn't – as much as it soothes her, as comfortable as it had been, and as well as she'd slept; she doesn't know how to mention it. Because the first night had felt like a fluke, and she's not entirely sure what had come over her. The second time she'd been affected physically in that odd, cold way, and— maybe she had encountered something, like that pollen that took Peter's memories. Or maybe it was that additive that had been in her coffee and the treats.

On the other hand... it had been so nice, hadn't it? She hadn't been opposed to sharing so much space with him, to being that close, and she'd been content. Beyond content, she'd been happy. And Peter had impressed her with how he'd handled it and the way he treated her, and she liked it.

But does that mean she's going to bring it up?

Probably not.

However, that doesn't mean she isn't thinking about it, which happens a lot in the following week. Actually, it's hard not to think about it, because the city itself seems to have been wholly overrun by a new festival dedicated to love.

What convenient timing (or possibly inconvenient, given it forces Gamora to keep running into all sorts of different romantic things throughout the entire week).

About halfway through the week, Gamora is still preoccupied with that... thing with Peter. Their months in the city and the time before they arrived, and that Unspoken Thing keeps looming over her, now with even more bits and pieces to consider. Finally, finally, she allows herself to be stopped by one of the vendors on the streets on her way home from work. He plies her with potions – which she immediately and adamantly refuses, because she has no interest in swallowing something she doesn't trust – and eventually, offers her a tiny jar with a red thread inside of it.

This, she looks at more seriously. Apparently, all she has to do is tie the thread around her finger, and an identical thread will appear between her and her "soulmate."

That sounds utterly foolish, because it's a silly idea on its own, but... what harm is there? She doesn't actually believe the claims that it will "help her find love," but considering how much she's struggled with her feelings recently, why the hell not?

She accepts the bottle from the vendor with the small string inside of it, and once she's headed down the street, she opens it up and pulls out the thread and note.

... Well, the note is useless, but the thread she ties around her pinkie finger.

Almost immediately, the thread begins to glow, and the light trails out and away from her hand, long and red and disappearing into the crowd. People walk through and over it with hardly any problems, so she has to imagine the vendor wasn't kidding that only she and one other person could see it, but she still tugs experimentally at it, watching it move and wiggle like normal string might.

Frowning, she unties the thread, and—

Ah. The light is still wrapped around her finger.

... She also realizes she forgot to ask how long this would last.

With some measure of reluctance, she starts to head through the crowd, following the thread to at least see where it leads. ]

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[ She nods in agreement, stepping closer to Peter. The thread shortens as she approaches, until it no longer coils on the ground, instead stretching in the space between them. ]

It doubt it will affect anything.

[ She touches it for herself, sliding her fingertip from the knot and along the string, that bit of uncertainty in the press of her lips. ]

I should have consulted you before messing with any of this.

[ ... But why should she have? ]

[ Apparently Peter is just going to be in a near permanent state of confusion, because he frowns at her. ]

Why would you—?

[ ... Except Gamora already kinda said, right? "It's for this useless festival." Which is all about love and romance, and all the vendors are trying to sell these potions and shit to help folks find their true loves or whatever.

"I should have consulted you," she said, while some weird red string hangs between them.

Peter slowly lifts his head as that revelation dawns on him, and he feels himself starting to smile.

But he's just as quick to temper that giddy spike of excitement, because, well, she got this from some dude off the street, if he's understanding her right. So how effective could it really be? It could just be some weird fluke, right? Could be that the magical effect just latched onto the person she knew best, or the person she's known the longest, or the person she was thinking of at the time she tied the string around her finger.

—although that last one is also a pretty good sign, really. Because if Gamora picked up a magic vial that was meant to point her to her soulmate or whatever, and she was thinking of him? That's gotta be good, right?

He clears his throat. ]

It's, uh. Fine. [ Yep. Totally playing it cool, here. Just ignore the nervous sort of strain in his voice. ] I mean, you know. No harm done.

[ She doesn't miss the smile that starts to appear, but she also doesn't comment on it as he fights for his composure.

(And considering he abandoned that line of questioning, she's not going to answer it.)

Trying to parse for herself what the string means is already an insurmountable feat, but there's a part of her, small though it may be, that finds an odd comfort in knowing it led her right to him. And maybe all it did was lead her to someone she hoped it might, maybe it was directed by her own feelings, but—

That does mean there are feelings. Things to motivate it. Something for it to latch onto.

But she's acknowledged that to some degree already, hasn't she? Offered it in small part in every light step forward she's taken with him, but...

It's the discussion they haven't delved into.

This thread feels like another piece of it. ]

You were already finished with work, weren't you?

[ As in: she's hoping she didn't interrupt him while he was still on duty. ]

Yeah, we're good. My shift ended a while ago.

[ Man, the idea of him flipping out in the ruins is almost funny, but that could've also ended kind of badly, so he avoids thinking on it for too long.

He lets the thread fall from his fingers, though he keeps examining it, studying how it seems to pick up the slack of its own accord, like a spool of measuring tape winding itself back into place. ]

So we just— let this one run its course, huh?

[ She nods, though she doesn't look too convinced of it. ]

I assume it should disappear on its own. And if it isn't physically affecting anything... it's harmless.

[ The string isn't catching or tugging, after all, and it's not like it's yanking either of them around.

It's just... there. ]

If it stays longer than a day or two, I'll go back to that vendor.

[ And demand to know how to get rid of it. ]

[ Peter huffs out a mirthless sort of laugh. ] Assuming he's still there. There's every chance the guy packed up and got his ass out of town.

[ He's all too familiar with the tactic. Some of the Ravagers like selling shit they stole – regardless of whether or not said items actually worked. ]

It's... fine. I mean, it's not bothering us, right? It'd be different if we had to be attached at the hip, but—

[ He gives an experimental tug on the string, lifting his hand up and away, and while the string goes taut for a half-second, it soon stretches to accommodate the distance. ]

—seems okay.

[ He has a point. It seems the worst case scenario is simply that it makes itself known for a while, but it should reasonably fade, she assumes. It was designed to point her towards her... soulmate, and if she's already found him (or, at least, the end of the thread), then it shouldn't be permanent.

Maybe it lasts as long as the festival itself. ]

It should be fine.

[ She raises her own hand, watching the thread lengthen and stretch between them. ]

He said it can stretch or tangle, but... "never break."

[ He presses his lips into a line at that. ]

... I almost want you to use your sword and see how true that is.

[ mostly because Peter is the kind of guy who likes taking things to extremes. ]

[ Gamora gives him a flat look, because that seems a little over the top (but when isn't Peter over the top?), but after a moment of pause, she reaches for Godslayer.

Instead of drawing the sword itself, she detaches the dagger, flipping it once in her hand to hold it properly, and then bringing it up to the thread.

Shockingly, the knife makes contact with the thread, and instead of slicing through it, the thread just bends around the blade. She tugs up, and the string slides along the edge like it's no sharper than her finger. ]

... I'm not sure what I expected.

[ He clicks his tongue, almost disappointed. ]

That went about as well as I thought it might.

[ He lets his hand fall to his side, stretching his fingers out one last time before letting them relax. The thread isn't much of an inconvenience, odd as it is, and it's not really hurting either of them. Maybe if it was making them act weird, he'd be more concerned, but he feels the same as ever.

Although he feels like something small has clicked into place – a single, tiny piece of a partially completed puzzle. It feels like progress, even if a voice in his head demands that he not get his hopes up. ]

Hope he didn't charge you much for this thing.

[ She shakes her head as she returns her dagger to Godslayer, letting her hand (and the thread) fall to her side. ]

Everything in this festival is cheap – though they offer more specials for couples.

[ Like that chocolate from the woman before. ]

[ He looks at her thoughtfully for a second. Then, that small smile creeps its way back onto his face, curling at his lips. ]

... Maybe we ought to take advantage of some of that stuff, huh?

[ Gamora lifts an eyebrow pointedly at him. ]

What, exactly, are you suggesting?

[ She's not dense, of course, but she wants to hear Peter say it. ]

I mean— there are a couple of events going on, right? Might be fun if, you know, we... went to one. Like. Together.

[ "As a couple?" she almost asks – but she refrains.

Instead, she seems to think it over for a while, cocking her head as she thinks about it. ]

Which one do you want to go to?

[ The first words that crowd into his mouth are, "Anything, if you're there."

But wow, Quill, he thinks. Pump the brakes a little, huh? He needs to play it cool, needs to time his shots, and he doubts dumping his hand on the table right now is going to do much more than scare her off. While this weird thread hanging between them has shifted the lens a little and put things into a slightly better focus, they're not quite there yet. Another step closer, but they're by no means at the finish line.

Pushing too hard, too fast, will only send them stumbling apart.

He clears his throat, tries to think of what a normal, sane date would be – which, of course, means he casts back to his repeated viewings of TV sitcoms and movies, trying to think on what sorts of things the romantic leads would do to get to know one another better. ]

Dinner, maybe? Or dinner and a movie. Or— or whatever you feel like doing. I'm easy like Sunday morning.

Those movies in the park sell tickets for dinner along with the show.

[ And the fact she knows that means she bothered to pay extra attention to the advertisements for the events. She's read pretty clearly what they're offering for the movies and a great deal of the other goings-on. Most of it had seemed silly, but... there had been some that seemed like things Peter might enjoy too.

Not that she would openly say that's why she knows. ]

We could do that, and go through the gardens on our way back to the apartment.

[ To end the night.

The gardens feel like... a place for them now, as foolish as that may seem.

... It's sentimental, she realizes, and that's strange on its own, too. It inspires something warm that bubbles in her chest, and she's spent so long shunning any shred of sentimentality that the kind she's found with the Guardians, with Peter, is unfamiliar but... not unwelcome. ]

[ And his smile widens a little, and maybe the way he nods is a little too enthusiastic, but there it is. ]

Yeah. Absolutely. We could do that. If you want, obviously.

Would I have suggested it if I didn't want to?

[ She doesn't say it harshly; if anything, there's a small quirk of amusement at her lips because of how genuinely enthused he seems to be. ]

Well, I dunno, maybe you were just talking about it in the abstract. Like how some folks talk about needing a vacation and then never going through with it.

[ He rubs at the back of his neck with his untied hand, shifting his weight from one leg to the other – not nervously, of course, because Peter Quill is never nervous. Ever. Obviously. ]

So, uh. You want to?

[ She could let him dangle a bit more if she wanted to, but that might be cruel. ]

I do. Tonight?

[ Since they both have the evening off, and she'd otherwise planned to head home, so she'd hardly mind fitting in that movie. ]

Yeah. [ And that smile threatens to grow into a full-on grin, but he wrangles it as best as he can. ] Yeah. Tonight's good for me.

Then we should catch the tram, if we're going to make it to the movie.

[ Because she's apparently quite serious about this. She wants to go – dinner, movie, gardens, and all.

The string feels something like an afterthought now, but it's still light and there, and when she reaches up to brush her hair away from her face, the string trails with her. ]

[ He flashes her a thousand-watt grin for a second, though it softens as he catches sight of that weird thread, thin and barely there. Those earlier thoughts bombard him again, remind him that this was a holiday about love, that whatever magical thing Gamora used pointed her to him, and—

That's good. That's really good. He never really had any doubts about where they stood, as far as how they felt about one another, but he still has a million questions about what it means, where this is going, and what they are to one another. Are they a thing, like a couple? Or are they just— going where this feeling takes them?

(This huge, terrifying feeling that swells in his chest, leaves him warm and aching.)

Now, though, he thinks maybe those questions can wait, because at least this is something. It's a tiny thing, but it feels huge, and— you know what? He'll take it. Gladly.

He holds his hand out to her, the thread swaying with the movement. ]

C'mon, then. We should be able to catch the next one if we hurry.

[ That grin has no business stirring up that warmth in her chest all over again, and not for the first time, she thinks how much she likes it (because it's genuine, bright and open, and that's the Peter Quill she enjoys the most). Those feelings tangle and flutter, even if she can't give a name to them, and this time, she doesn't try to stamp them out as quickly as possible.

She lets them be.

But his hand is offered to her, and she looks down, momentarily taken aback. She realizes she could brush the offer aside with ease, simply walk right past him and disregard it, but there's his hand and that thread linking them together, and... she doesn't want to pass up the opportunity.

Somewhat tentatively, she reaches out in turn, lacing her fingers with Peter's and letting the threads shorten to the connection of the small knots on their pinkies. ]

We'll only miss it if you are too slow.

[ And with her hand nestled in his, she uses the connection to drag him off and away towards the station. ]

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