open post;

[zenwhoberi]

go insane, go insane
... leave off the glitter pls

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[zenwhoberi]

[in some ways, she thinks, she and rocket may understand each other better than anyone else here. there's a certain ugliness they know that the others don't, the kind that comes with being made into something against one's will. the kind that breeds a certain pragmatism and a willingness to exercise it, no matter how dirty hands may become in the process.

gamora, though, isn't willing to bet more lives than she has to. that's the difference.

an explanation, he says, as if this is something simple, and her eyes flick upward, narrowing slightly when they land on him. for now, she otherwise doesn't move, letting the silence fester between them as she considers. it's a whole minute, maybe more, before she speaks again.]

For not telling me, or for shooting me? [her tone is measured, even, like she's simply recounting fact — only there's an edge to it, too. a subtle, dangerous edge.] Or for leaving one of our own to die on an exploding planet?

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket recoils slightly, as if slapped, but it only takes a second before he's on the defensive.] For shooting you, actually. That was a dick move, but I knew I wasn't gonna be able to talk you down.

[He bares his teeth, hoping to bite back the raw emotion.] I did it 'cause he asked me to. I wasn't gonna leave him or Quill, but we didn't have a choice. Someone had to make the call.