Hot Summer Time! Does she stick out like a sore thumb? More than a little, given that she is fully dressed, head to toe. With annoyance written on her face, Gamora has taken a seat near the beach. For a moment she almost wondered if someone would try something now and she would need to defend herself (and a part of her hoped that it would be), but nothing happened. This whole experience was odd, to say the least, and more than a little frustrating. She has never taken well to strangers, and suddenly finding herself somewhere other than where she had been in a rather large juxtaposition. Whatever this game is, she has no time for it.
Her lips pursed as her eyes scanned, first left, than right, taking in everything that she can. She hardly looks inviting, although she's actually not actively trying to portray such an emotion. Rather it is the frustration at the entire situation that simmers on her features. There was nothing that gave away what planet she was on, given that she doesn't simply just trust the information that had been given to her. Therefore, she would find her answers if she had to tear the whole planet apart one piece at a time. Alert and wary, Gamora turned back to the water, eyes constantly moving. She needed to find Peter, to find Drax and to find Mantis.
Arguably, it shouldn't be too hard, as all she would likely have to do was go to where the biggest racket was coming from... Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly. She didn't know what was going on, but one way or another, she was going to find out. Her eyes do flicker, and if she catches someone's expression, Gamora speaks out.
"What? Never seen a Zehoberei? Take a picture. I'm told it lasts longer."
Explore the city! Luck is not something that Gamora would place her faith in. Rather, her own skills and prowess are traits that she would draw towards. They are something that she knows and trusts, even if her reputation may be of slightly ill-regard back where she is from. Gamora is well aware of the negativity that is placed within her own name, alone and both in connection with Thanos, but it is still something that she desires to change, that she has been changing.
Still, some things seemed to have fallen in to place just a little too easy, which had started to make her suspicious. It doesn't help that she tends towards that emotion anyway, but knowing her history, it would explain many things. Little by little those chinks are being chipped away as time passes, but here it does put her own edge.
It is a strange restlessness that consumes her this day, that has her pacing around the city like a caged animal. She supposes in some ways that she is, seemingly like to many others here, and yet she cannot help but note that others seem to fit in better. Perhaps not happily, and being green and sticking out like a sore thumb is nothing new to her, but it is that heat that continues to grow, that spreads across her, that makes her walk faster, wanting, wanting... It is a frustrated noise that comes from within her throat, taking a deep breath and feeling her breasts strain against her top.
Her eyes scan as she strides, until like a creature on a scent, she singles out an individual.
"You. Training grounds. Are there any?"
It's a way to spend that pent up energy, isn't it? At least it is something that Gamora can understand better, even as her tongue darts over her lips, eyeing the individual with a look that could well be constructed as predatory.
Visit the spaceships! Now this? This is far more interesting. There is a keen expression on Gamora's face as she looks over the spaceships, eyeing them up as one might a race beast that one wished to bet upon. Yet... Many of them appear to not be functional, at least at first glance. She stalks along with, eyes roving, measuring, weighing. Some manner of crash, and not that long ago, she would guess. Just what does it mean though?
Scanning back and forth, she does eventually settle for one that seems less damaged than the others, eyeing the door as it opens in invitation. There is a wave of fondness over her, although not for this ship. No, it is another that she has in mind, which... Well, they'd have to work out the whole entire ship thing eventually after everything that had just happened. It's not like they grew on trees, and they were trying to, more or less, stay out of any real trouble. Some days it seemed like a backward battle, especially when Rocket kept putting his thieving hands into places that they shouldn't be.
She is trying to figure something out, a means to depart this city, although she has been unsuccessful so far. Perhaps, with some work....? Patience is a virtue that Gamora can have, when she wants to, as she had waited for an opportune moment to leave Thanos after all those years under his thumb. It still rubbed her the wrong way, but she would find some answers, even if she had to spend every waking hour looking for the solution. Yet, somehow her mind keeps turning, drawn.
Gamora cannot say that she had ever really been one to stop and admire things for their artistic merit, unless one would consider a weapon to be such a thing. Then she may well. A ship though? It is not something that she had grown up putting much study in to, not even before what had happened on her planet. After? Art wasn't exactly something that Thanos collected, let alone spent time regarding. Training, training, and more training. If one wasn't the best... Gamora had been. Her face turns, features sharp and focused, not yet entering, as if it may be a trap as well.
"Perhaps... With some work."
[NETWORK] [She does perhaps make a sight, for a number of reasons. The first is that her skin is green, even if she is humanoid in appearance. The bone structure of her face is slightly different mind, although it's not overly noticeable, but enough to draw a second look anyway given those silver markings. Her face is framed by strands of hair that are ombred, starting one colour and fading to another. Her expression is... less than impressed, although with Gamora, that tends to be a typical state of being.
She has that hard expression, lips pursed and dark eyes roving. She appears to be resting against a wall, alert, wary, and ready. A long look from beneath her lashes as she regards the feed, before talking.]
Of all the idiotic things I have heard, this has got to be up there, and that is saying a lot.
[Not that she can deny having arrived here. And being stuck here was not going to help the galaxy. Thanos... She knows that he looms on the horizon, a bomb waiting to go off. Yet one that won't, if she has anything to say about it.]
I seek several individuals. They... might have gotten in to trouble already. One goes by the name of Star-Lord, or Quill. He has a strange fascination with music and other Terran- Earthian- Human things. Another is Drax. He is- [Where does she even begin with him.] Hard to miss. Mantis is a third. There may also be a furry creature by the name of Rocket who has an obsession with weapons or one who calls himself Groot. If you've knowledge of them, I would speak to you.
[A pause.]
Or to any who know of a means of departure. I've elsewhere to be.
Gamora | MCU
Does she stick out like a sore thumb? More than a little, given that she is fully dressed, head to toe. With annoyance written on her face, Gamora has taken a seat near the beach. For a moment she almost wondered if someone would try something now and she would need to defend herself (and a part of her hoped that it would be), but nothing happened. This whole experience was odd, to say the least, and more than a little frustrating. She has never taken well to strangers, and suddenly finding herself somewhere other than where she had been in a rather large juxtaposition. Whatever this game is, she has no time for it.
Her lips pursed as her eyes scanned, first left, than right, taking in everything that she can. She hardly looks inviting, although she's actually not actively trying to portray such an emotion. Rather it is the frustration at the entire situation that simmers on her features. There was nothing that gave away what planet she was on, given that she doesn't simply just trust the information that had been given to her. Therefore, she would find her answers if she had to tear the whole planet apart one piece at a time. Alert and wary, Gamora turned back to the water, eyes constantly moving. She needed to find Peter, to find Drax and to find Mantis.
Arguably, it shouldn't be too hard, as all she would likely have to do was go to where the biggest racket was coming from... Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly. She didn't know what was going on, but one way or another, she was going to find out. Her eyes do flicker, and if she catches someone's expression, Gamora speaks out.
"What? Never seen a Zehoberei? Take a picture. I'm told it lasts longer."
Explore the city!
Luck is not something that Gamora would place her faith in. Rather, her own skills and prowess are traits that she would draw towards. They are something that she knows and trusts, even if her reputation may be of slightly ill-regard back where she is from. Gamora is well aware of the negativity that is placed within her own name, alone and both in connection with Thanos, but it is still something that she desires to change, that she has been changing.
Still, some things seemed to have fallen in to place just a little too easy, which had started to make her suspicious. It doesn't help that she tends towards that emotion anyway, but knowing her history, it would explain many things. Little by little those chinks are being chipped away as time passes, but here it does put her own edge.
It is a strange restlessness that consumes her this day, that has her pacing around the city like a caged animal. She supposes in some ways that she is, seemingly like to many others here, and yet she cannot help but note that others seem to fit in better. Perhaps not happily, and being green and sticking out like a sore thumb is nothing new to her, but it is that heat that continues to grow, that spreads across her, that makes her walk faster, wanting, wanting... It is a frustrated noise that comes from within her throat, taking a deep breath and feeling her breasts strain against her top.
Her eyes scan as she strides, until like a creature on a scent, she singles out an individual.
"You. Training grounds. Are there any?"
It's a way to spend that pent up energy, isn't it? At least it is something that Gamora can understand better, even as her tongue darts over her lips, eyeing the individual with a look that could well be constructed as predatory.
Visit the spaceships!
Now this? This is far more interesting. There is a keen expression on Gamora's face as she looks over the spaceships, eyeing them up as one might a race beast that one wished to bet upon. Yet... Many of them appear to not be functional, at least at first glance. She stalks along with, eyes roving, measuring, weighing. Some manner of crash, and not that long ago, she would guess. Just what does it mean though?
Scanning back and forth, she does eventually settle for one that seems less damaged than the others, eyeing the door as it opens in invitation. There is a wave of fondness over her, although not for this ship. No, it is another that she has in mind, which... Well, they'd have to work out the whole entire ship thing eventually after everything that had just happened. It's not like they grew on trees, and they were trying to, more or less, stay out of any real trouble. Some days it seemed like a backward battle, especially when Rocket kept putting his thieving hands into places that they shouldn't be.
She is trying to figure something out, a means to depart this city, although she has been unsuccessful so far. Perhaps, with some work....? Patience is a virtue that Gamora can have, when she wants to, as she had waited for an opportune moment to leave Thanos after all those years under his thumb. It still rubbed her the wrong way, but she would find some answers, even if she had to spend every waking hour looking for the solution. Yet, somehow her mind keeps turning, drawn.
Gamora cannot say that she had ever really been one to stop and admire things for their artistic merit, unless one would consider a weapon to be such a thing. Then she may well. A ship though? It is not something that she had grown up putting much study in to, not even before what had happened on her planet. After? Art wasn't exactly something that Thanos collected, let alone spent time regarding. Training, training, and more training. If one wasn't the best... Gamora had been. Her face turns, features sharp and focused, not yet entering, as if it may be a trap as well.
"Perhaps... With some work."
[NETWORK]
[She does perhaps make a sight, for a number of reasons. The first is that her skin is green, even if she is humanoid in appearance. The bone structure of her face is slightly different mind, although it's not overly noticeable, but enough to draw a second look anyway given those silver markings. Her face is framed by strands of hair that are ombred, starting one colour and fading to another. Her expression is... less than impressed, although with Gamora, that tends to be a typical state of being.
She has that hard expression, lips pursed and dark eyes roving. She appears to be resting against a wall, alert, wary, and ready. A long look from beneath her lashes as she regards the feed, before talking.]
Of all the idiotic things I have heard, this has got to be up there, and that is saying a lot.
[Not that she can deny having arrived here. And being stuck here was not going to help the galaxy. Thanos... She knows that he looms on the horizon, a bomb waiting to go off. Yet one that won't, if she has anything to say about it.]
I seek several individuals. They... might have gotten in to trouble already. One goes by the name of Star-Lord, or Quill. He has a strange fascination with music and other Terran- Earthian- Human things. Another is Drax. He is- [Where does she even begin with him.] Hard to miss. Mantis is a third. There may also be a furry creature by the name of Rocket who has an obsession with weapons or one who calls himself Groot. If you've knowledge of them, I would speak to you.
[A pause.]
Or to any who know of a means of departure. I've elsewhere to be.
[ooc; I will match any format]