ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟɪᴇsᴛ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ (weaponizing) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-02-02 10:12:00 |
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Handling a little human in their infancy wasn’t part of Gamora’s job description - it wasn’t part of anyone’s aside from Regina and Killian’s anyway, considering they were the respective parents - but there was involvement here and there, considering the center of operations for the once evil regal’s design services was in her very own home. It worked well, all things considered - they didn’t have to rely on an outside babysitter, and Regina was a mistress of organization and multitasking capabilities. Although it meant she was typically in bed before nine, in which Killian would take the reigns of child caring afterwards. Things got easier as the weeks turned into months, and Meara transitioned out of that newborn phase. It meant consistent naptimes that developed into an expected schedule, thus allowing more of a routine into her work life once again. But as always, interruptions were to be expected, babies were demanding creatures (especially when not feeling well), and when there were constant diaper blowouts and spit up accompanied by feverish tantrums - Let’s just say Gamora covering any phone calls and client visits was godsent. “I don’t think I’ve ever wiped so much crap off her before,” she sighed, in the confines of her office with Meara sprawled on the width of her desk. Instead of the surface occupied by account files, her laptop, binders of paint samples, there was the baby blanket Hades had brought over. Wet wipes, rash cream, a package of diapers, and swirling around in a telekinetic sway over her daughter’s grumpy face were an abundance of basic office supplies to keep her sufficiently distracted. It worked with Henry in the dreams, and it seemed to be working with her too - and yes, she had tried keeping her close to the bosom, rocking her, snuggles and love, but sometimes it took the strangest things to soothe them. “Did you finish putting in those tile orders? That vendor was supposed to shave off processing costs after he screwed up the last shipment.” Gamora’s form-fitting knit black dress was professional, so were the ankle boots, and the bright green rhinestones in her ears a nice pop of color - but she was still fully prepared to get stained while working in a house with a very small baby. It just seemed inevitable. Like now. During the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. She’d just walked in with an update for Regina, one that actually did have to do with the tile orders, and clutched her notebook and folders to her chest in horror when she saw the spray of actual shit and a squirmy baby. “Yes,” those mocha-amber eyes were wide in a state of surprise straight out of an anime flick, and she attempted to rein in her shock. “He tried to say you never discussed the costs, but I...kindly reminded him otherwise.” Or hissed like a feral cat, and threatened his balls until he caved. “I also updated the room layout specification manuals - do you need any help with her?” The question was tacked on there, since Regina seemed flustered and office supplies were floating in the air as likely a last act of desperation. Gamora ought to make herself useful, she thought. It certainly was an act of desperation. One that at least worked. Meara’s sea-colored eyes were fixated, brows less furrowed and fussy noises quieting - the angry kicking of her feet slowly ceased, and her fingers clenched and unclenched in the direction of a floating stampler. Probably not the best thing to distract her with because, yes, the next thing she needed was for her child to screech until the windows cracked because her mother wouldn’t allow her to staple herself. That would be a hurdle to hop over later. One could argue that she could tap into her witchy side and cast a sleeping spell, but Regina was strongly against using some kind of manipulative magic on her baby. Little Starfish was experiencing some discomfort, and was merely communicating it the best way she could. “I think she’s settling down, somewhat,” Regina sighed, wiping her brow with the back of her wrist before dumping that excessively soiled diaper into the trash bin, tenderly cleaning the rest of that messy bottom, and changing her into a dry and clean set of ‘nappies.’ There was no point in dressing her; she’d be in pampers all day until this passed, otherwise the laundry would be endless. “Thank you, by the way, for taking care that - she’s in a bossy mood today but she’s not feeling well, and even if she’s been resistant in my arms the moment I step away she’s bursting into tears.” Those office tools kept spinning around above them like a mobile, slowly. Meara seemed to coo a little. A positive sound from her, thankfully. Queen Mommy looked relieved. “In a minute I might need you to watch her while I use the bathroom, if you don’t mind?” “Of course, no, I don’t mind,” Gamora replied, and it was just so sad to see such a tiny person so upset. Not feeling well, with some sort of stomach bug, was definitely no picnic. And all Meara could do was cry and fuss to express herself. “Though she is handling being sick better than many men do?” It was a joke, with the alien babe’s mouth quirking upward slightly into a half-smirk, half-smile. She set down her pile of folders and pulled the pencil she had from behind her ear, using it to twist and turn into ebony locks until there was some semblance of a ‘bun’ hairstyle going on. “The magic shows are also...interesting.” Gamora had never seen staplers and rulers float before. But she was rapidly learning that people in Orange County had many talents up their sleeves, that it came with the territory. “You’re not wrong in that assessment,” she replied, a huff of a laugh with it - at least Meara wasn’t the stubborn one to insist on putting a sock on while ill, and then practically faceplant on the ground during Orange County’s yearly plague. “I’ll need to take out the trash, and make this office smell less like baby waste -” There. A flick of her finger lit a scented candle from on one of the decorative end tables. Instead of exercising her magic skills to fight fairytale foes and break curses, she was using it to her advantage when it came to being a mother. They were all difficult challenges. “As for the magic show, it can be useful for the more mundane aspects of life - it’ll be good to have her get used to the demonstrations early on,” Regina continued, and picked up the sniffling, grumpy baby for a little jiggle-bounce in her arms. So far so good, no waterworks, but it still broke her black cold heart knowing only so much could be done. “I know you’re not getting paid to specifically help with her but I appreciate any hand you’re willing to lend. And it’ll prepare you for one of your own someday, perhaps?” Meara seemed ready for transport from her arms to Gamora soon - she wasn’t shrieking as she was slowly pulled from her mother’s bosom, and Regina could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel (which was the bathroom, in this scenario). Yes, with a mother who was a skilled witch (is that what Regina was? Gamora was not sure of the official term, though she didn’t associate it with anything negative in this case), the demonstrations would likely be something to get used to. Entertainment as a baby, as a toddler, as she grew - though even adults must find that type of magic to be whimsical and fascinating. Admittedly, Gamora did. “I don’t mind helping with her at all, it’s a lot of work - just from what I’ve seen. And you don’t even get paid at all,” a smile flickered on her face - yes, the pitfalls of parenthood. It was such a thankless job, and those who embarked on that journey did it for free. Or to eventually find themselves a lackey who would do all their dirty work for them, such as the case with Thanos. But no, Gamora was not bitter. Not at all. The question about her own spawn someday made her blink in surprise. “Maybe. But I cannot have children.” It was said bluntly, as Gamora usually tended to be. “It’s something I’ve known for a few years. I don’t know why. I don’t think the doctors do either.” But she had never really demanded answers - at the time, it didn’t really matter to her much anyway. Ah. Regina felt dumb now. Really, she did - because it wasn’t like she hadn’t been at the end of that question before, having to offer the same answer. It was always rude to outright assume, but with her own little bundle - despite the means of getting her - she didn’t even think about her own…issues in that department. Her hand patted that diaper-cushioned bum for a second, Meara finally settled, and that’s when she handed her over with care. “I had my own issues,” she said, crossing her arms. “In the dreams I ruined my own womb to spite my mother. Immature and stupid, I’m completely aware, but in this life I just - I could conceive, but not keep.” Turns out not everyone was born with a perfect uterus, but she’d made peace with it after some time. “Do you think it’s something you would have wanted?” “Maybe - I never really thought much about it,” Gamora admitted, carefully taking Meara and holding her oh-so-gingerly at first. Like she was a bomb, or like she had soiled her diaper again so soon after the last blowout. But then she gradually relaxed into it, because a baby’s cuteness was too compelling to resist. Especially when they were so soft and sweet and gurgly with those contented snuffing sounds they made at being gently rocked back and forth. And look at her little face. The small feet, the fingernails, the rosebud mouth and cotton candy pink cheeks - yes, Gamora was smitten. She continued to gently sway with the baby, soothing her and watching for any sign of distress. Or if Meara was suddenly going to poop again. “But I might want to someday. I cannot in my own dreams - “ It was still strange to talk about those as a thing that existed; she was getting there though. “Because my father added many enhancements to me, cyborg upgrades. I am an alien robot,” she chuckled darkly. “My insides do not work properly. Why did you want to spite your mother?” Meara seemed smitten as well. Could also be that she was exhausted from all the crying and pooping she’d done, but at the moment she was content to be held against someone warm. Regina didn’t want to jinx their luck but at the moment, the worst of it seemed over - at least for the next hour or two. “There’s a couple aliens around here, actually,” she replied, pensively. “I always found it comforting to talk things out with people of similar situations - magic users in my case.” There was some skepticism in whether or not she’d get along with a certain space commander with cybernetics, but the woman did have an alien for a close friend. Regina made a note to see if they can get them introduced; it was very possible that Gamora could go through some interesting physical changes. Her mother, though. There weren’t enough bottles of wine in the world to discuss Cora. “My mother was…” How to really describe the woman? “The Queen of Hearts, in the dreams. I shoved her through a looking glass into Wonderland. Our relationship became especially volatile when she killed the stable boy I was in love with just so she could marry me off to a king and have me become queen. Every aspect of my life she tried to control, and to keep her from controlling anything else about me - including my womb...” All it took was a special potion. At the time, there was nothing more satisfying to see the look on Cora’s face when it took effect. “Anyway, it was my choice there. It brought me to my adopted son so I can’t say I regret it much, but I take it what your father did to you wasn’t your choice?” Gamora’s eyebrows lifted at the mention of other aliens being in their midst - her curiosity was piqued. Maybe it would be nice to meet others who hailed from other planets besides Earth. Maybe it would even explain why, the more she dreamed (even the repeats), the more she literally felt like an alien, like she was not even human in a human world. It was very strange. “I would enjoy meeting others,” she mused. “If we are meant to become who we see, then I will...turn green. With certain facial markings too, but the green skin is very noticeable.” To say the least - how she would get from Point A to Point B remained unknown. Doubtful she could just write it off as ‘fashionable.’ But that was a concern for another time. Perhaps she wouldn’t even change at all. “No, it was not my choice for my father to upgrade me - he wanted strong daughters, soldiers for his cause. Which was dominating the galaxies, of course. He wanted to control me and my sisters too.” Thanos wanted to control everything, because he was a power-crazed psycho. And Gamora was tired of washing blood off her hands because of him. Regina was sure she could wear the color better than her sister, if even that could be considered a silver lining - those existed among the crud, they really did. It was a matter of realizing that they were there, but that transition from who they were as a person before the dreams to who they became after... It wasn’t seamless. There were consequences sometimes, some that could be overcome and some that couldn’t. She’d been there enough, and the dreams had yet to be over so there was more to endure, but she was at least used to it. Gamora was starting out, and already realizing those awful parallels that could exist. “Your story’s just starting out, so I hope down the line you break free from that,” she said, leaning against the edge of her desk. “With how things bleed over, it can get…ugly. Killian woke up to a bloodbath and a missing hand, hence the prosthetic. Some kind of batshit insane fae crossed over the line and impersonated his sister - it can range from so many things. But the best you can do is take it a day at a time, and let people know if you need help. I suppose that’s the beauty of the network.” Oh, it hurt to say that. There were very little good things she would say about the network, but it was a good way to keep in touch with others of the same affliction. Right, the network. But Gamora wasn’t too proud to ask for help if need be - however, she’d limit her asking to the few people she trusted. Which so far meant Peter, Rocket, a couple other friends she made through that forum. It was nice of Regina to indicate that she wouldn’t mind helping either (after all, she’d already offered some sort of....glamour. If that was a thing Gamora would need, and she had a feeling she would). Meara was getting sleepy; the paranoid adult holding her was almost afraid she’d do the wrong thing and jostle this precious package the size of a loaf of bread. So far so good, though. She’d just keep rocking the baby and keeping her all close and warm. “I assume that saving the galaxy - as we are trying to do now - will not be so simple,” she smiled wryly. “There will be...something bleeding over. I just don’t know what. But the dreams end, and what happens?” She just wasn’t sure what the point of all this was. Good question. Regina bobbed her head from one side to the next, thinking that one over, and it ultimately ended with a shrug of her shoulders. “As someone who’s still going through the motions of over two years later, I can’t really answer that - but I imagine it as a lesson. We watch our mistakes in another life and we’re faced with the choice of going down that path again, or doing something else. I could have very much turned into the villainous bitch I saw myself as in the very beginning, and it was...tempting.” What? She was only human, after all, and dark magic - magic in general, really - could be an addictive force. If someone looked at the Evil Queen the wrong way, snap went their neck with a wave of her hand. Sometimes it was tempting when morons tried to talk to her while she was trying to run errands (why people stopped you in the middle of a grocery aisle while contemplating pancakes was a mystery she’d never have solved), but then there was the whole thing of having people she didn’t want to disappoint. Hard to be friends with someone when they were having Darth Vader tendencies left and right. “Ultimately I suppose it’s also up to you,” she went on. “They say if you leave they’ll stop, but why not finish what’s already started? Without them, I wouldn’t have the family I have now. I wouldn’t have Killian, and I wouldn’t have her.” In the end she’d do it the same way if it brought her to what she had now. She went from having only her career to having it all, even if it was a struggle to maintain sometimes when things went awry. How strange. Gamora still wasn’t sure what to make of everything, but it was happening to her and it was something she had to deal with. At least she didn’t have to do it on her own, which was always a bonus. “I moved from Hawaii and just thought it’d be a good way to forge my own path far from my father,” she shook her head in disbelief. “But never would I have expected all this to happen.” She was glad, in many respects. Because without that little nudge to take the steps necessary to change her life, obviously she wouldn’t be here right now either. And she was...satisfied. Being so far from Thanos helped with that. Mostly it was just she was looking forward to see what would come next, and looking forward to making her own choices about her own life for once. “Anyway, I should not prevent you from getting a bathroom break,” she laughed quietly. “Go ahead, I’ll hold down the fort here.” There was the matter of her protesting bladder, yes, on the verge of bursting, but Regina was a lady and had the dignity to not enact the ‘potty dance’ squirm. And speaking of potty, there was a trashcan full of shitty diapers she had to remove elsewhere so she pulled it from the bin and tied the plastic shut to cease the baby poo fumes and save their nostrils. It was a surprise they still had nose hairs with all that. “Expect for nothing to ever go the way you think it will,” she advised, patting the woman on her arm. “You can handle whatever’s thrown at you. You’re probably not going to like it, but remember I have an entire cabinet for vintage wine for ‘special occasions.’” Tequila too, somewhere in there. Typically that was a drink shared between her and Hans but she didn’t mind spreading it around - she’d have a shot in her brother-in-law’s honor, always. First, the bathroom. |