The ground holds memories, she thinks.
Not of hers, of course. Never of hers.
Shiveringly familiar, though, enough to make the green-colored skin on her body prickle up, the short hairs standing on end.
This time, it’s the joint effort of the snow combined with the rocky terrain that brings her nerves to the surface.
A solemn tone, weathered by the high winds and almost silenced by it, rings softly in her ears.
“In order to take the Soul Stone, you must lose that which you love. A soul…for a soul.”
She hears her own laugh then, recognises the broken and drained way in which she speaks.
Whirling around, she looks for the source of the voices, her breath stuttering as she struggles to compose herself for a ghost of her past.
“All my life, I dreamed of a day… a moment when you’d get what you deserved.”
Her heart tugs insistently in her chest, and she falls to her knees, the ground meeting her in a rush.
How those words resonated with her. How she’d wished upon every shining light in the glittering cosmos for Thanos to meet his end, not caring how or where.
But, she supposes, knowing how this universe’s Gamora was absent from it now, she wonders the price of such things.
“...You failed. And you know why? Because you love nothing. No one.” She hears, the voices sifting through her mind like the black sand that coats the rocks.
The silence between the voices stretches out, and she flinches when Thanos speaks.
“...No.”
“St–stop it,” Gamora strains out to the violet sky. It’s a pitiful sound, and she’s never felt so vulnerable before. This isn’t even her.
She hears the desperate scream stop abruptly. Hears herself slamming into the ground as she clutches onto the intrinsic carvings of the summit and shuts her eyes as far and as hard as they can shut.
When she wills them open by some force of nature, she is no longer on Vormir.
Her eyes widen at the one poised in front of her, a gold sheen to the figure that she knows but does not know.
“How…” She asks, her mouth parted open in shock.
The other Gamora does not answer, only looks at her, smiling through the tears in her eyes.
And then, and then, the older Zehoberei’s arms wrap around her in a tight embrace.
All she can hear are quiet sobs, the kind that grips her other form’s body in a fit of shaking.
Eventually, the older Gamora detaches from the newcomer, and she opens her mouth to speak.
She cuts her off. “Do…do I really belong with them? As a Guardian?”
The young woman’s voice hinges on pleading before both eyes meet.
Older her answers before Gamora’s tears reach the shallow water.
“...I wish you could stay.” A wistful gaze down at their feet, where one of them hovers just above the water, never quite touching the surface. “I wish I was still here. So many things that I’d wish for.”
The soul in front of her shifted, taking Gamora’s cold hands in hers.
“But you are your own soul, Gamora.” she reiterated. “Please be kind to yourself.”
The earth rumbled ominously, and the spirit’s last words to her reverberated across the dull land before the chime of the bells from her home on Zen-Whoberi sounded, the noise building to a crescendo until she was forced to snatch her hands back, and up to her sensitive ears.
And she felt the cool press of Vormir’s winds once more.