thordonotdothat (thordonotdothat) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-08-14 11:33:00 |
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Had anyone ever told Sif that, one day, this would be her life she didn't think she'd have ever been able to conceive a series of events where such was true. However, like so many things in her life as of late, what Sif could or could nor conceive seemed to have no real relevance on the events of reality. She was here on Knowhere, a floating head in the center off the cosmos, which was run by a hound who could speak in her mind, seemingly cut off from Heimdall and Asgard, and with no real answer as to why or how in sight. Add this in with what she had recently come to know, that in another world she had indeed taken to pairing with the Odinson, and what that had ultimately led to, and there had come many a day where Sif was grateful that she had landed a source of income for herself that was able to double as an essential form of stress relief. Otherwise she might have fought the whole of Starlins some days, just to make this whole place make sense. There were upsides, for certain, and not least of them was the very bar where Sif often found herself by days end. She was grateful for the stories she'd been able to make for herself in her time here and, despite her worries about what it meant for Asgard, she'd been proud and pleased to help. She'd had a chance to meet with many of the Avengers, had seen the Hulk finally(something she'd been particularly excited about), and she had met many allies here with whom she was delighted to take company with. Harry, the Wizard, Kara and Diana, and Hawke, just to name a few. Of course then there was Torunn, the spot where her mind had particularly settled while she was instructing one of the locals in what, to Sif, was a very simple form of martial defense. Sif tried to remind herself often that the hotblooded Asgardian love of battle was something she needed to keep in check, to mind the fury in her heritage so she could keep her mind sharp and stay one step ahead of her foes. This, however, was different. This wasn't anger (it was, just not at Torunn), but rather just...Sif didn't know what it was. It pulled at her in all new directions and left her mildly distracted. Not enough that it was a concern for the day as the spars went on, but it was lingering there nevertheless. Distraction was something Gamora was no stranger to lately either. Between the events of the previous months, what it had reminded her of on Con-Ret, and the seemingly endless string of stresses that had culminated in her and Nebula both being reverted to children, She was just exhausted. She wouldn't admit it, she wouldn't tell anyone or let on, but it was there all the same. Her mind was scattered, she didn't know what to make of any of this and, rather than repeat the pattern of lashing out and people when she was confused, she'd had simply removed herself. Gamora kept quiet for awhile now, actually enjoying the stretch of calm that seemed to roll in, if not for the way it caused a ceaseless plague of thoughts to bounce around inside her head. Still, she stayed out of trouble and just generally done her best to take what time she could to think things through. The problem was however, that there just weren't any real answers here. Gamora at least knew there weren't ones she could find by herself and she just wasn't ready to have that kind of conversation with anyone yet. It would lead to questions and, inevitably, more shouting. Gamora didn't want to have another fight right now. She was still bothered by the last one she'd had with Nebula and... She hadn't even noticed the way she'd been clenching her fist so tight while she walked but, when she did, Gamora knew what she needed to do. There was almost always someone working at the Palace and she knew a fair share of them had fighting style and skill comparable to her own. She knew it was there she could find someone, could pay someone to spar with her. At least then it was probably someone she wouldn't have an opinion on, wasn't someone she'd be distracted by, and she'd be less likely to hurt them -- or, to be more honest, she might not feel as badly in that case. That alone was unsettling to think and it was why, instead of immediately hunting out someone to train with like she might have, Gamora set herself up opposite one of the training dummies and began working through a series of forms and strikes designed to give her focus. She focused on the feeling of knuckles hitting surfaces, on the sound it made, she tried to work her hands into a rhythm that almost sounded like music (Blame Peter, she couldn't get enough of the stuff now), and to just try and find an outlet for all the things that needed somewhere to go before she could safely engage someone in a spar. Confusion seemed to be the running theme lately and Matt Murdock was neither a stranger nor immune to the current tide of it. Most of his life had been some form of confusing or another, but Matt was the kind of person who had faith in what was coming. Even being up here, supposedly in space, surrounded by people who came from Universes other than his, where things happened he couldn't possibly begin to explain, that faith remained unshaken. Sure, he didn't have the answers and he wasn't at all certain what he should do with people suddenly knowing his dual identity. Sure, Matt had no clue what to do with himself professionally, since Knowhere clearly had little use for a Lawyer. Sure, there were multiple versions of people here and people who remembered things very differently from how he did, but to Matt? Well. Keep alert, stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong. It was hardly the first time Matt had found himself in a position where he needed to just relax his mind to find the thought that would center him again. Matt could argue that he'd not really been that courageous during the invasions here, but that was largely because his best was never quite enough for him -- at least not when people were getting hurt. It had been largely the same during the Reaper invasion. At least when it had been the Chitauri, Matt hadn't felt as hopelessly outmatched. Yet, with everyone working together, they'd managed to drive everything back and...against the norm...seemed to have managed to earn themselves a spot of quiet. Matt had absolutely soaked it up. He'd take routine tours of Knowhere, both in his civilian clothes and in costume. He'd had coffee. He'd gotten the lay of the land and started to find some sense of rhythm to his day to day life. Ultimately though, whether Matt could admit it or not, the quiet got to him. The questions that came with the quiet, and the guilt that came with the stillness, was finally what drove him out of his bunk tonight. It pulled him somewhere private where he could slip into his Devil persona, and drove him to the usual high roofs of the place that he could reach. It was that Matt had hung his legs and simply listened. It was something he often did when he'd been back in New York on the quiet nights. He'd just listen for things that he might be able to help with, crimes he might be able to prevent and lives he might be able to save. It wasn't as easy to do here in Knowhere. The basic sound to the air, something most people probably never paid attention to, was louder than he was used to. It had always been harder to pick out individual noises in a place that buzzed like it did here, but Matt was slowly learning. Night by night and layer by layer he'd figure out how to peel back the sound and isolate out simple things he was trying to hear. It was good practice for him and, once satisfied, he'd normally just go change and then make his way back to stashing the outfit and call it a day (presuming he didn't decide to go but Tony or Natasha). Tonight however, was different. Tonight he seemed to have accidentally made his way near the proximity of a place where people were...fighting? Matt's ears instantly tilted toward the noise. Flesh hitting wood. Metal collaiding with Metal. Rhythm. Steady hearbeats. Not fighting. Training. He hadn't been into a gym since Fogwell's, since New York. He hadn't trained really, at least not physically, since New York. How long had that been? It didn't really matter. He was dressed for it. He was ready for it and, if he couldn't consider himself courageous, at east he could work at making himself stronger. Surely it was something that would serve him well for however long he was here. The sounds of what she assumed were fights and the scent of the place had made Laura steer clear of the Palace for some time now. It reminded her simply of too many things that were...not things she wanted to be reminded of at all. However, time and curiosity had teamed up on her tonight. She'd been on Knowhere for awhile now, she'd taken a look around at most of the places of interest (though the things she'd heard about the Collector made her give that area a wide berth) and places where people seemed to congregate. Even the Hovel, with as loud as it tended to be, had seen her make an appearance once or twice, though always as a passive observer. Even Starlins had seen her slip in once just because she couldn't help but follow the tug of her mind in the direction toward the unknown. Tonight though would make her first time venturing inside the Palace. Unlike a lot of places Laura tended to wander, Laura immediately felt a sense of being observed. If she'd been more thoughtful about what she was doing, that should have made sense. She knew people tended to regard her with some kind of innocence in respect to the things she was often doing. It was like they just couldn't understand why she would and, in turn, Laura often struggled to understand why it was they were so confused about the necessity that life had foisted upon her. She should have expected some of that here, there had already been some evidence of it with others she'd met, but it simply hadn't occurred to her. And it seemingly continued to not. Certainly Laura knew people were watching her but, as her intention was simply to investigate what was going on in what appeared to be a public space, Laura appeared to pay it no mind. She simply kept her ears bent toward what her eyes couldn't see as she looked around. There were people here she recognized from the network and people whom she'd never seen before. There were training supplies and smaller rooms off to the side, each of which would see Laura peek into them provided they were unoccupied. More than any of the details however was the fact that the familiarity she had expected from the scent of the place was completely removed. She had expected an environment much more hostile than that which she'd arrived in. She'd expected a room where failures in matters of skill would see the doling out of harsh punishments. She expected a space where power and precision were the things that were rewarded, She had expected to find a place where she might better understand the function of it all and she honestly could not have been more wrong. In fact, seemingly of all the places she had been in Knowhere, it was the Palace where she suddenly found herself feeling the most out of place out of anywhere she'd been. So, Laura did what she always did, she watched. She watched as people lined up in front of practice dummies. She watched as others gave instruction on things. She was always careful never to let her gaze linger obviously for too long (according to her) so as to not seem like she was interested. She didn't want anyone getting the idea that they should be coming up to talk to her for she was certain that would come with some kind of lecturing about how she did not belong here. Even if they were probably absolutely correct in that assessment, it was never something Laura liked to hear. So much of her life had been painted in by others in terms of where she should and should not go, the last thing she wanted to do now was hear more that. Finally though, after watching several people come and go from standing in front of one of the training dummies, which was arguably one of the only familiar thing about the room in terms of equipment to her, Laura stepped in to take their place. She studied the thing for a long moment. It was obviously built for people taller than her but that was no surprise to her, most things were. She could see the spots where it had been struck most often, scuffed and weathered by friction. She saw from watching others how it was supposed to work and what the point of it was and there was a very careful moment of consideration where Laura seemed to line herself up before she slowly began to mimic the movements she'd seen others make. Her form should have been cleaner than it was, even at the snail's pace she was using to brush her small hands up against the thing. Very slowly the pace would increase and the intensity with which knuckles connected with it increased only to reach a plateau where she would seem to falter for a moment and the whole thing would stop. Finally, after several short rounds of this, Laura peeled off her jacket, very carefully folded it up, and reached up to hang it on one of the 'arms' of the practice dummy that hung above her head. It was then that she would drop herself into a fresh stance, this one looking much more practiced and confident, before her eyes narrowed in to a single point of focus in the dummy's center. It was there, as Laura had done so many times in life, she'd start all over again. She'd try to find a rhythm that fit her, try to find a space that was hers, and, if that didn't work, well, at least she had a safe place now to let out her frustrations where maybe people wouldn't yell at her if something got broken. |