WHAT: Gamora goes from being thrown off a cliff to landing in Thor's fish barrell WHERE: New Asgard WHEN: Backdated to Thursday, Feb. 9th WARNINGS: Not really STATUS: Complete
Then falling, and falling, and falling. Gamora’s fallen before; the ground crumbling beneath her feet as the core of a sentient planet collapsed into itself, and whether or not she’d survive that had been up in the air.
But there was no chance this time. Gamora kept falling, and falling, and while she had been surgically modified to withstand more than most around her–she couldn’t survive this impact, because this meant sudden death. Thanos watched with tears spilling from his eyes–even far away, she could see it, it angered her, this isn’t love–and she didn’t want him to be the last thing she saw. She didn’t want him to be her last thought.
Gamora’s eyes squeezed shut. For the last few seconds she had breath, it was Peter she would think of. Then, she would hit the–
Squish. Squelch. Her back made an impact with something; enough for the air to be knocked out of her lungs, for her bones to feel the jolt of an ache. There was a splish and splash (water?), and something slimy touching her skin, and there was this scent of seawater and–
Fish.
Gamora was dead, and the afterlife smelled like fucking fish.
It wasn't every day that it rained people. But Thor would be hard pressed to say it was unexpected at this point in his lifetime. Even before Vallo, his life had a way of throwing the most unlikely scenarios at him.
So for a woman to fall out of the sky and into the comically large barrel of live fish he was transporting through New Asgard wasn't really unexpected. Surprising? Sure. But in the grand scheme of things, he should just forget about having a "normal" day.
His instincts pegged her falling toward him from above, causing him to react just enough to cushion her with the fish. Fish and water went everywhere with her impact and Thor placed the barrel on the ground with a resounding thud. Peering cautiously into the vessel, he nudged the woman whose green hue was all too familiar to him.
“Gamora?” He asked, startled, but pleased by the appearance of a Guardian. Especially this one.
Gamora should not be concerned about how everything felt disgusting since she was surely dead, shouldn’t her insides and green blood be splattered in Vormir anyway? But then someone said their name with strange recognition, and her eyes snapped open to be greeted with clears skies that didn’t spell out the ominous doom rule of a soul for a soul, a face she hasn’t seen before, and… actual fish.
There were fish in here.
Revolted, she climbed out with an incoordination that didn’t suit her. Her movements were always precise, with grace–and right now she felt clumsy, confused, unpleasantly wet and slimy. “I don’t know you,” she forced between grit teeth. “This isn’t–what realm of the dead is this?”
Bemused by the lack of recognition from her, it took Thor a minute to remember that many of the Avengers and people of his universe were not used to his face for the Thors that they knew. “Ah,” he said, in understanding as he scratched the back of his neck. “I may not look like the one you know. But I am Thor, Son of Odin, and you’re not in any realms of the dead.” At least not right then, she had just missed Lucifer’s version of Hell. “This is New Asgard in a realm known as Vallo. It seems like you just arrived.”
And from the words of her question, he knew approximately when she was coming from and a part of him hurt for her.
“Can I take you back to my cottage to get cleaned up? I doubt you’d want to smell like fish while you get your bearings.”
Thor. Thor. Rocket’s Pirate Angel. Gamora remembered Thor, obviously–they parted ways not long ago for his journey to retrieve a Thanos Killing Weapon, while the rest of them went to Knowhere–but he didn’t look like this. The muscles, however, looked the same.
Falling into an offensive stance that showed her body was ready and wired for a fight was an instinct she hardly fought against, though she actually paused this time around. His words, you’re not in any realms of the dead–they gave her hope. Gamora needed that hope.
“I won’t hesitate to cut your throat if this is a trap,” she bit out, squaring her shoulders as she looked up at him with hardened, skeptical eyes. “And if this isn’t a trap, then I’d like to thank you for the offer because I’m taking you up on it.”
Thor remembered upon their first meeting that he had enjoyed her personality. Not willing to take any shit from anyone and logical, unlike most of the other Guardians. He tried not to smile too obviously when she threatened to cut his throat, only nodded and gestured in the direction of the still fairly new cottage, having been rebuilt since the year before last’s Thanksgiving holiday disaster.
“I expect nothing less from you, Gamora. But I still welcome you to my home so you can get fresh and caught up on what’s going on.” Thanos could suck it, it was a good thing to see Gamora alive and well once more.
Gamora tried not to breathe in too deeply–fresh air might do her good when it came to soothing nerves but the fish smell was a deterrent, and her stomach wasn’t in the best place. It felt like it was high up in her body still, like she hadn’t stopped falling even if her feet had ground to firmly plant on. She dutifully followed Thor, and while experience taught her to never take her eyes off someone you don’t trust, they also wandered.
They looked around, searching, half-expecting the warp of blue powers with a purple monster stepping through it.
“What,” she began, perplexed, “kind of sorcery even brought me here? What is this place? Why are you here?” Looking like–well, she guessed appearances were the least of her problems. “You had a mission. Tell me you succeeded. I need some good news.”
“This place, Vallo, has a magic of its own. Uncaring for our world and universe and how the rules work there. Beyond that, not many understand the intricacies behind its logic to bring people here. But this place is made of its native, who are just as clueless as us to the reason why we’re here and what we call Outlanders, those of that were plucked from our universes, without a care to what we were doing at the time,” Thor explained, as he picked up the stupidly large barrel of fish she had landed in with ease.
Walking in the direction of his cottage, he steadied his nerves and turned to look at her as they moved. “We ultimately succeeded, but not without losses and sacrifices.” He swallowed. “Your Guardians, they remain whole, but it was a complicated journey. But Thanos is gone and most of the universe was restored.”
Thanos, gone.
Most of the universe, restored.
The breath she let out was of relief. Gamora hadn’t a clue what the missing details were–the complicated journey, like Thor said–but the end game was what mattered. The Guardians were okay. That part may have selfishly mattered a little more to her.
“Do you have time to fill me in on what made it all complicated?” she asked, sizing him up. “I know I literally crashed here–and you were in the middle of something. Fish things.” There was a piece of fish gut she had mushed still stuck to her leather top; she plucked it off with a mild grimace. “If the universe was restored, that means he succeeded at one point. He got the Soul Stone, then, so that also means–”
I died.
That didn’t surprise her. The outcome did–because that was not love, but he was given the stone anyway?
“Do you have something I can drink?”
“I have plenty that you can drink and I will do my best to fill you in and answer your questions,” he promised, as he nodded at the cottage that was coming up on their right. “That one is mine. No one else should be home at the moment, but don’t stab anyone if they are.”
Thor had spent enough time with Gamora to know how quick she was with her weapons. “I will take the fish to where they belong and join you shortly, but you can make yourself a home and clean up in the meanwhile.” He smiled warily. “The liquor cabinet is yours to go through, but avoid anything with a blue label. That’s Asgardian strength.”
Asgardian strength liquor. Could she handle that with all her modifications? Gamora thought about it briefly, but decided it was best not to turn that into a full-blown experiment. Thor had a lot to tell her and she needed to be relatively sober for it.
“Thank you,” she expressed, the furrow of her brows softening with a little gratitude. Tension wound up her bones–that wasn’t leaving anytime soon–but she at least knew this territory with Thor was neutral. Perhaps safe, though she’d need more than just a few minutes to make that judgment. “I’ll consume whatever’s in your cabinet with moderation.”