( gamora isn't one to usually show weakness. but this isn't exactly the typical situation she finds herself being a part of. for one, she can't seem to recall what kinds of typical situations she gets into and for another, she's concerned about what's in that place. it's foreign to her and yet it's supposed to be the establishment that she's the most safe in: home.
as he approaches, she feels herself getting apprehensive about the situation as a whole. she's not really sure who he is, not really, but at least he's the only person she's spoken to thus far that's made any sense. giving a slow nod, she turns toward the house as though having to collect herself before she heads inside. which she does have to. whatever's in there might be make or break for her already utterly lost mind. )
... I would appreciate that, thank you. ( more than she's likely to admit. she take some few strides toward the door and when she reaches it, hesitates. she drops her gaze to the sapling. it feels important but she can't remember why. no matter. setting her hand to the knob, she takes out the key given to her by the sheriff which he said had been among her belongings and unlocks the door.
admittedly, it looks lived in. once she's past the threshold, she takes in the house and ... finds herself drawing blanks. many of them. she sighs, but heads through the house. it feels as though it's familiar though she can't place everything. or much of anything at all. as she wanders through the house she notices stairs that lead to another floor and a bedroom on the bottom floor. peering through the door into the bedroom, she tilts her head. there's a photograph of herself and a man. ) ... is that real? Or am I seeing things?
( cautiously, she heads into the bedroom and looks around some. she picks up the picture of herself, smiling, with a man she has a vague sense of remembering. but another catches her eye. the pair of them and a younger boy. she frowns. ) ... why can't I remember these people? They're my family, right? That's... why people take photos. Isn't it? ( her head is throbbing anew. )
sorry for word vomit.
as he approaches, she feels herself getting apprehensive about the situation as a whole. she's not really sure who he is, not really, but at least he's the only person she's spoken to thus far that's made any sense. giving a slow nod, she turns toward the house as though having to collect herself before she heads inside. which she does have to. whatever's in there might be make or break for her already utterly lost mind. )
... I would appreciate that, thank you. ( more than she's likely to admit. she take some few strides toward the door and when she reaches it, hesitates. she drops her gaze to the sapling. it feels important but she can't remember why. no matter. setting her hand to the knob, she takes out the key given to her by the sheriff which he said had been among her belongings and unlocks the door.
admittedly, it looks lived in. once she's past the threshold, she takes in the house and ... finds herself drawing blanks. many of them. she sighs, but heads through the house. it feels as though it's familiar though she can't place everything. or much of anything at all. as she wanders through the house she notices stairs that lead to another floor and a bedroom on the bottom floor. peering through the door into the bedroom, she tilts her head. there's a photograph of herself and a man. ) ... is that real? Or am I seeing things?
( cautiously, she heads into the bedroom and looks around some. she picks up the picture of herself, smiling, with a man she has a vague sense of remembering. but another catches her eye. the pair of them and a younger boy. she frowns. ) ... why can't I remember these people? They're my family, right? That's... why people take photos. Isn't it? ( her head is throbbing anew. )