[ A better person probably would have accepted the consequences of disobeying Thanos. A better person would have traded their life readily, rather than continually carrying out the whims of a megalomaniacal power-hungry madman, but maybe Gamora is just enough of a coward to spill others' blood to save her own.
(She doesn't let her mind drift to the horrors of what Thanos demands of her. She has to shut herself down, has to act as nothing more than a weapon, because buried beneath it all is just—
—sentiment.)
She knew the second Peter saw her there, bleeding, it would be the end of this. It's almost laughable that she assumed she might be able to stumble in under the cover of darkness, cut things short civilly the next morning, that she could spare him the gore-laden details of her life, but here they are, at the worst and most ironic conclusion. Distantly, she spares the thought that this is exactly the kind of tactic she could imagine Thanos employing to teach her a lesson about attachment – expose the frightening truth, allow it to change the perception of Gamora, and then watch as it severs itself without Thanos so much as lifting a finger.
That scenario, however, would undoubtedly end with Peter's death, after he walked away.
Gamora is thankful for small mercies.
(Maybe she's trapped, but that doesn't mean there has to be collateral damage. She doesn't want Peter to be caught in the crossfire of her nightmarish life.)
She watches Peter's back head for the bedroom, before she starts trying to push herself up from the lip of the tub. Her arm trembles, threatening to give out on her, but she catches herself on the sink with a short hiss as she gets to her feet. ]
You should—
[ Hoarse, a little strained as she leans against the counter instead to steady herself and the way the room tilts.
Blood loss.
She grimaces, closing her eyes when her vision swims. ]
no subject
(She doesn't let her mind drift to the horrors of what Thanos demands of her. She has to shut herself down, has to act as nothing more than a weapon, because buried beneath it all is just—
—sentiment.)
She knew the second Peter saw her there, bleeding, it would be the end of this. It's almost laughable that she assumed she might be able to stumble in under the cover of darkness, cut things short civilly the next morning, that she could spare him the gore-laden details of her life, but here they are, at the worst and most ironic conclusion. Distantly, she spares the thought that this is exactly the kind of tactic she could imagine Thanos employing to teach her a lesson about attachment – expose the frightening truth, allow it to change the perception of Gamora, and then watch as it severs itself without Thanos so much as lifting a finger.
That scenario, however, would undoubtedly end with Peter's death, after he walked away.
Gamora is thankful for small mercies.
(Maybe she's trapped, but that doesn't mean there has to be collateral damage. She doesn't want Peter to be caught in the crossfire of her nightmarish life.)
She watches Peter's back head for the bedroom, before she starts trying to push herself up from the lip of the tub. Her arm trembles, threatening to give out on her, but she catches herself on the sink with a short hiss as she gets to her feet. ]
You should—
[ Hoarse, a little strained as she leans against the counter instead to steady herself and the way the room tilts.
Blood loss.
She grimaces, closing her eyes when her vision swims. ]
You should— take the clothes.