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So what? I'm not scared of you.

[ She says, and almost believes. She's stronger than Shadow Weaver now, she's sure of it, but what about Catra? Her housemates, her friends? Shadow Weaver knows the best way to keep Adora in line is through the people around her; that's why she dangled Catra's safety over her head for all those years, like her best friend's life was a string that could be cut at the first sign of Adora's disobedience. The first sign of her being a failure, anything but the golden child she was expected to be.

It could happen here, too. She can't be with Catra all the time, and it wouldn't take long for something to happen. Would take even less time to hurt someone else. Already, there's a threat behind her words, and Adora opens her mouth with a denial on her tongue, then closes it again, her glare boring into the back of Shadow Weaver's head. ]

... We're not having this conversation where other people can hear. [ Especially when Catra's followed her before. It's a risk, stepping into what passes for the sorcerer's workshop, but Adora draws some confidence from the weight of the sword strapped to her back. ] If you don't have anything to hide, let me in.

The front door has been open this entire time.

[Shadow Weaver doesn't hesitate, turn around, or even glance over her shoulder. The subtle emphasis on front door implied she wouldn't put it past Adora to crawl through the window.]

Oh. [ ... She is actually a little disappointed at the lack of breaking in required, but. ] Okay, then... I'll be right back. [ Sternly: ] Don't. Move. A. Muscle.

[ She's cautious with the door, expecting some sort of trap, but it opens without issue. Once she's inside, she looks around at the dirt-filled pots, the pure mundanity of it all, and can almost feel herself becoming hysterical. It's so hard to blend what she's seeing with the Shadow Weaver in her memories; the fearsome sorceress who always seemed to loom so large over both her and Catra, who had eyes and ears in every corner of the Fright Zone. Who still manages to send a chill of fear down her spine just by being alone in a room with her.

(If something goes wrong, there's no Glimmer or Catra to save her — but nobody to get hurt trying, either. It's better this way.) ]

Is this a joke? You think you can just garden, after everything you've done? Like you're not a monster? [ No. Deep breaths. She didn't come here to make accusations (at least, not the gardening kind). ] You're lucky we have bigger problems right now.

[ Adora has bigger problems. But they're Shadow Weaver's problems now, too, because she's making them her problems. Without waiting for a response, she starts to rant, furiously gesturing with her hands as she paces back and forth across the room. ]

This place did something to Catra. I thought she just didn't remember, that someone [ Shadow Weaver ] wiped her mind, but it's more than that. It's like none of the past year ever happened for her. Everything since I left the Horde — She-Ra, fighting against the Rebellion, all of it.

[ And I need to keep it that way, is the implication. It's the only reason she's here, desperate enough to make a deal with one of her worst nightmares to stop another from coming to pass. ]

You're the magic expert. I know you have some idea about why this is happening, and you're going to tell me. Without mentioning any of this to Catra.

[If it weren't for the sheer indignance, Shadow Weaver would have greatly enjoyed the raw irony of Adora's rant.]

[Peace is what she offered them. Peace, and space, time and again; her wards were volatile, after all. Yet, time and again, they sought her out to harass her. The sorceress's patience was running so very thin. With her back to Adora, her ward couldn't see the way her fingers curled into the potting soil with her tamped-down anger—but no, anger would not serve her best here. Anger would tip her hand.]

[As difficult as it was not to remind Adora of exactly who she was.]

I don't need to mention it to Catra. You're doing well enough of that on your own.

[Brushing the dirt from her fingers, reaching for a dirt-dusted hand towel, Shadow Weaver turns to face Adora as she non-clamantly picked soil from under her clawed nails.] Are you even sure you want her to remember, Adora?

[ Adora flinches, both at the question, and the insinuation behind it. ]

That's none of your business. [ Which, in and of itself, is awfully close to confirmation — something she seems to realize, and backtracks a little. ] I mean, of course I do. Eventually. But right now, it'd just — confuse her.

[ She doesn't know if she's done enough to convince Catra to stay. She doesn't know if there is such a thing as enough, once she realizes the truth; worse, that Adora's been lying to her about it. Their relationship is on borrowed time, and all she can do is try and mitigate the fallout when it happens. If it happens.

Frowning, she turns her head to the side, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. ]

I'm doing the right thing. [ She says, unconvincingly. ] So if you want a new life here, then help me. Help Catra. You owe her that much.

[ Trusting Shadow Weaver is a fool's errand, she knows, but... despite herself, she still has hope. She has good memories mixed with the bad; Shadow Weaver teaching her how to read, how to write, praising her the first time she defeated a bot in single combat. Telling her all about the grand future she was destined for in the Horde, if she had the strength to grasp it. Even if the other woman never cared about her as more than just a pawn, there has to be something in there she can appeal to, that hasn't been wholly swallowed up by evil. ]

[A new life. How laughable.]

[She does not answer immediately, still as a statue and peering at Adora from behind her dark glasses. What more help could she give Catra, beyond what she already has deep under Etheria?]

You want me to restore her memories, even knowing what that will bring. And yet, you will not speak the truth to her. You are only asking me to do what you are too afraid to do yourself.

Holding onto her like this will only cause you both further pain, Adora.

[To think, not long ago, that "like this" wouldn't have even been in that sentence.]

I'm not afraid. [ No: she's terrified. ] But what am I supposed to do? Just let her make the wrong choice again?

[ The worst part is, she knows exactly what she should do. What she should have done, months ago, when she had the chance, when she hadn't started to lie and lie and lie until there was no going back. Adora knows she'd be furious, finding out things were being kept from her — isn't that the whole reason she left the Horde in the first place? — and yet she's doing the exact same to Catra, the person who saved her from having her own memories overwritten. Controlling her, almost, the same way Shadow Weaver used Adora's ignorance to manipulate her.

But this, it's different. It's for the greater good. For Catra's own good, even if she doesn't realize it yet. She's only keeping things from Catra temporarily... and besides, Adora's not the one who created the situation in the first place. (Only used it to her advantage, time and time again, because she's too weak to let go.) ]

You're the reason she stayed. You got in her head, just like you tried to get in mine, and made her think the Horde was a better option. [ That's how it must have happened. Catra was always so strong, so capable, even if nobody else but Adora ever saw it behind all the slacking off. Being a Force Captain gave her discipline, made her an asset to the Horde. To Shadow Weaver. ] So I'm not asking. I'm telling. If you don't do this for me — for us — I'll make sure people know exactly who you are. There won't be anywhere left for you to run.

[Orders. Threats. How cute. ]

The end result is the same. Whether she comes to the same conclusion or she remembers makes no difference.

[She steps forward, hand reaching for Adora's face.]

Adora... you aren't being rational.

[ She flinches away from the outstretched hand, and instantly hates herself for it. She's supposed to be a powerful, legendary warrior, not a scared child fearing that Shadow Weaver's anger would one day turn on her. Almost wanting it to, if it meant protecting Catra, but knowing too well the only way to do that was to stay in their mentor's good graces, and practically beg Catra to do the same, all so Adora wouldn't lose her forever. Because Adora wasn't strong enough to help her, to stop her from being hurt, except by playing along as best she could. ]

Don't touch me! [ Under her jacket, the mark on her shoulder burns, and she claps a hand over it. ] It's... it's not safe. Even for you.

[ Pathetic, that she'd rather admit to being infected, than to being afraid. But one makes her a danger, the other makes her weak, and the Horde would far sooner punish the latter than the former. Maybe it'd even be a good thing if she could make Shadow Weaver scared of her for once. The fact she's so tired of hurting the people she used to care about, even the awful ones, is another thing she pushes down, because she's a soldier in a war. A truce is one thing, but she can't let old feelings get in the way.

(Unless it's about Catra, but that's... complicated. Different. She's a good person, not like—) ]

And stop telling me how I'm supposed to feel, or what I should do. We're past that. [ How can Shadow Weaver walk over her threats like they're nothing? They aren't nothing. They can't be nothing. Frustrated, she grips her jacket tighter, feeling the fabric bunch under her fingers. ] When it comes to this, [ to Catra, ] I decide what's rational. Maybe that means listening to you, maybe it doesn't. But right now? You haven't said anything worth hearing.

[ Because Shadow Weaver isn't telling her what she wants to hear. ]

Oh?

[That... is unusual. Less Adora's flinch, and more that particular qualifier. Shadow Weaver's head cants to the side a fraction, her eyes narrowing behind the dark lens. Her hand hovers in the air for a brief moment before it falls back to her side, then both hands clasped together before.]

Then I cannot help you, Adora.

[She turns around, walking back to her soon-to-be plants.]

You are extraordinary at so many things, but lying is not one of them. You might even be the worst liar I've ever seen. Your charade is over—no, has been long over, I could see that even when you dragged me into that pitiful clinic. You are the only one clinging desperately to it.

I will not tell her the truth, nor alter her mind with magic. The result will simply be the same, and I will not be the scape goat for what you cannot bring yourself to do.

You're wrong. [ She says, more out of stubbornness than anything she actually feels. ] Catra still believes me. And I don't want you touching her, either. I want you to figure out what's happening, and let me take care of it.

[ Somehow. She can barely heal even minor scrapes and cuts, let alone whatever's wrong with Catra's memories — if those memories are even there for her at all, yet, going by what the Admin said. It makes Adora's own head hurt, not having someone to just... explain things to her. Someone she trusts, anyway. Shadow Weaver showing up made the blame game so much harder, when it's clear even to Adora that she isn't the one responsible. ]

... You were never going to help me, were you? [ It can't be her that's wrong. No matter what she said, no matter what she asked for, Shadow Weaver would have been Shadow Weaver about it. ] I thought being in the Horde was what twisted people, but this is just who you are. I don't know what I expected.

[ What she hoped for. ]

I cannot help someone that does not want to be helped. You are an adult now, Adora, and I will not coddle you, no matter how much you wish to avert your eyes from the truth.

[Her patience thinned. Adora could always be dense, but this wasn't unlike talking to a wall. The sorceress pulled an empty pot to her, starting to filter soil into it.]

I have made my offer of aid. And my parting advice is that you stop letting fear rule you, Adora. I thought you knew better than that, by now.

[Disappointment hangs in her words.]

[ Oh, that's — she can ignore Shadow Weaver's attitude easily enough, or at least convince herself that she can, but the disappointment stings. It's not that she cares about disappointing Shadow Weaver anymore (she doesn't, right? isn't it a good thing?), but the other woman doesn't get to talk to her that way. Like she's a child, even as she dismisses her as an adult.

Shadow Weaver said it herself: Adora's extraordinary. She can't just be dismissed. She won't be. ]

You didn't offer anything, Shadow Weaver. [ Nothing Adora would actually accept, which is the same thing. Making threats isn't natural to her, so her voice is forced, stilted, but the words still come easier than she expects. ] And just so you know? You're the one who should be afraid, because this place can change us, too. I don't know how, or why, but it's not always good. So maybe, you should be a little more careful from now on. [ A pause, as she worries she hasn't gotten her point across. ] ... About what you say. [ Another pause. ] To me.

[ It's not a good threat, given that Adora was the one to warn Shadow Weaver away from touching her a moment ago, but it's something. She-Ra is too much of a known quantity, not like the mark that pulses almost appreciatively at her words, filling her with instant regret. Too late to back down now. ]

Oh? [But there's something plainly performative about the way Shadow Weaver stretches the curious sound. Yes, child, she's been warned. Been changed. The soil warms subtly under her fingertips.] It can, can it...?

[But Adora's been changed too, hasn't she? That is what that strange feeling is, that faint... something, crawling over her senses. It was like that collaboration of information on the phones said. One way the island changed you was dangerous, and the other kind of change was the dangerous' prey, was it? Perhaps she should be careful.]

I'll keep that in mind—as a favor. [Her voice takes on a light, chiding lilt.] Really, Adora. All those years with me and you never learned to deliver a half-decent threat...

[And to salt the wound, she chuckles.]

[ Adora mockingly scoffs, half at the word favour, half at the insult. (And wholly to protect her already bruised pride from further injury.) ]

It's not a threat. It's a warning. [ Technically true, even if the intent was definitely the former. But heroes don't make threats, and Adora doesn't do things she's not instantly good at, so obviously, it's Shadow Weaver who's wrong. Obviously. ] I'm nothing like you, and I don't need the evil things the Horde taught me anymore. End of discussion.

[ Except for the way she clings to them, to logic in the face of what still feels so unfamiliar, both here and in Bright Moon. What the Horde teaches is practical; can be learned, by anyone, in ways that magic can't, and doesn't rely on charging or runestones to be effective at navigating or causing pain or getting information. Adora might not be a perfect She-Ra yet, but she's an excellent soldier, and that part of her identity is important to her, will likely always be, even with her edges softened. ]

[A hand lazily rises from the pot, making a loose shooing motion. Even with her back to Adora, the girl's tones were expressive enough]

In that case, you are familiar with the door.

[End of discussion, right?]

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