(I own nothing and I hope you enjoy. Good day and God bless.)
Nebula sharpened her blade. She drug the rough edge of a piece of iron over a slab of smooth steel over and over again. A repetitive motion she learned through the years.
One way or another, it always came to this, even when she was but a little girl.
When she was anxious, she sharpened a blade.
When she was sorrowful, she sharpened a blade.
When she was excited, she sharpened a blade.
When she was angry, as usual, she sharpened the same blade over and over again, day by day.
It didn't matter what emotion it was. Be it good or bad, it always and only led to the same thing.
Such a repetitive habit followed her into adulthood, as expected but as she grew up and her father began to replace more and more of her with machinery, she began to lose track of the difference and what little emotion she still felt began to blur together.
She could no longer tell what it was she was feeling so she described it as this.
When she felt as though she was losing what little control she still retained, sharpening a blade helped her relieve the stress.
It made her feel dangerous, safe in her own eyes and she preferred it that way.
Even if it wasn't literal, her entire existence seemed to revolve around that simple act.
Every time she felt bad, every time she was hurt, embarrassed, alone, she sharpenbed her mind and body. She made herself more dangerous, stronger, tougher, able to take whatever pain was in store for her.
In other words, when he'd heart got in the way, she sharpened her greatest weapon till all became unclear and she no longer felt.
So she sharpened and sharpened and sharpened away, even as images of her sister flashed before her eyes.
She sharpened away, even as she thought of a body bloodied and broken at the bottom of a cliffside.
The knife blade chipped and broken like dry bread in her hand as she thought of the wretched monster that took everything from her.
Gemora deserved better.
Nebula deserved better.
Thanos would pay.
She would make him pay.
Chest heaving, seething through her teeth.
A single tear fell down her cheek. She didn't even know she could still do that anymore.
Squeezing metal shards in her palm, exhaustion soon filled her limbs and Nebula remembered her pain no more.
So, without further ado, Nebula reached into her holster and grabbed out a second blade.