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for the record: adora uses the username grayskull on the network, and can be reached at that id. assume all replies come from the same unless stated otherwise. she makes no effort to hide her identity in the slightest, so feel free to handwave knowing it's her.
for the record: adora uses the username grayskull on the network, and can be reached at that id. assume all replies come from the same unless stated otherwise. she makes no effort to hide her identity in the slightest, so feel free to handwave knowing it's her.
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[ She'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. When Catra bares her teeth, Adora does it right back — then remembers that it looks much less intimidating coming from her, and settles for a scowl instead; refusing to be budged from her spot. ]
Why are you always so frustrating? I try so hard to keep you safe, and this is how you react? Like I'm doing it just to annoy you?
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'cause you are! [A small mercy for Adora, her best friend Catra doesn't immediately use violence like her enemy Catra would. When shoving her away from the door fails, Catra throws her hands up in frustration and steps back; glaring her down.] You're driving me crazy! Ever since you found that stupid sword, that's all you've been doing!
[Sure, Adora can punch craters in the ground now, and haul things around without breaking a sweat, and cleave stuff in two with a sword that apparently never rusts or dulls or breaks -- so what. It doesn't make her this incredible, invulnerable princess like she thinks it does. It doesn't make her any stronger or more capable than Catra -- except, of course, for all the ways that Catra is keenly aware that it does.]
You're always going on about keeping me safe, or protecting me--- [and how dare Adora continue to speak those intentions aloud. They're fine when they're background knowledge, when Catra knows that she always has Adora to count on, but when it's put into words it's insulting.] --like you're the only one who can?! News flash, Adora: being She-Ra hasn't made you that much better than me!
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No, it doesn't make me better. But I have a duty. Responsibilities. You have no idea what that feels like.
[ Not that it's anything new. Adora never had the option of showing up late to training, or skipping class, or backchatting Shadow Weaver. One wrong move, one mistake, and things would have been over for her in the Horde. Over for the both of them. Just like they will be now, if she ends up like Mara, snapping under the weight of the world on her shoulders. She's trying to make the best of something she never asked for in the first place, and Catra...
... is being Catra about it. ]
I need to be a good She-Ra, and use my powers to help everyone. Which is a lot harder if they won't listen to me. [ And if they waste their time worrying about her. She puts a hand to her head in exasperation. ] Why can't you understand that?
[ Catra is the only one who won't accept her good intentions. Who she can't lie about being fine to. Who won't even try to compromise, and just wants to argue. But then, what did she expect? When has Catra ever behaved the way Adora, or anyone else, wanted her to? ]
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Why should I listen to you? You're not a Force Captain. [Bitterness drips from the title, and Catra means for the reminder to hurt. Because as far as she's aware, being Force Captain is still something that Adora wants; she just doesn't want the rest of the Horde that comes with it.] You're not even a real Princess! You've let this whole 'magic' thing get to your head, but guess what, Adora - you're still the exact same person you've always been!
[So: until she starts being reasonable, Catra is not going to listen to her.
She wants so badly to deliver a parting shot, and then escape out to simmer in anger that's only slightly dampened by the satisfaction of getting the last word in, but Catra is effectively trapped - and she hates that.]
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[ Not anymore. She's been trying to figure it out, to put together the pieces of an identity she never had in the Horde. Who she was before Shadow Weaver took her in; if she was ever important to anyone as just Adora, not an obedient soldier, or She-Ra. ]
The sword chose me. I'm the first person in a thousand years who can use it. Don't you think that matters? [ Doesn't it give her a purpose — a real one? A good enough reason to exist? She's not a real Princess, but she's something, and she can't (won't) let Catra take that from her. ] ... People change. Maybe I have, too.
[ They've both changed. Catra just doesn't remember it, and Adora's starting to wonder how long that will even make a difference. How long until everything falls apart, and she has to watch it happen again, reaching out to someone who would sooner cut off her hand than take it.
Her shoulders sag, and she frowns, moving so she isn't blocking the doorway completely. To let Catra leave if she wants to, and Adora won't stop her if she does. You must let go. ]
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...They kind of die when Adora's shoulders drop.]
--Of course I know who you are. [The conversation's changed, now, and suddenly Catra's on the wrong foot - something like desperation tingeing her tone. Because she's been kind of wondering the same thing, lately, and Catra doesn't want to admit it. She thought freedom would be good for Adora, but instead either it or the sword have made her weird. She's convinced that Catra's going to get hurt, she thinks she's the only one who can help anyone - more than that, she thinks it's her job to help them. Like there's nothing else she should be doing at any given time.
And rather than blame their sudden new surroundings, Catra's more inclined to pin it all on the sword. Adora said it herself, not a few seconds ago: she has to be a good She-Ra. And She-Ra is the sword, ergo...]
Nobody changes that much. [She's trying to convince herself here, too.] You're just -- you're going through some stuff, Adora. And you won't listen to me about any of it!
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[ At least, nothing Adora cares to hear. It's not Catra's fault; Adora is the one keeping her in the dark about this, about everything, but what would change if she told her? What difference would it make? Not a good one, that's for sure. As bad as the lie is, the truth is much, much worse. ]
I need to cool off. [ Not thirty seconds ago, she'd been forcing Catra to stay and talk. Now, Adora grabs her jacket off its hook beside the door, picks up her sword from beside it, and steps out of the room. ] You can stay here, and keep secrets from me, since I guess that's what you do now.
[ Adora does, too, but she has good reasons. Catra doesn't. Catra keeping secrets is dangerous; a sign things between them are coming apart, and that Adora should get away from her before she says something she'll regret. ]
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It's fine when Catra leaves to go sulk at the top of tall towers, letting out aggression in every powerful lunge it takes to get up there -- but a sort of panic grips in Catra's gut when Adora makes to do the same. Last time she left her, she disappeared. She found a magic sword, got cursed into being a sometimes-Princess, and made the biggest decision of their lives by herself. What if this time, Catra doesn't find her? What if she decides to leave her behind, where she'll be 'safe', and go in search of the Rebellion on her own?]
I'm keeping secrets?! [She should backpedal, simmer down, try to get Adora to stay. If she puts what's causing the quick and alarmed whipping of her tail into words, the tone of the conversation might change.
But Catra's the one who argues. She's the one who ramps up the tension, not the one who diffuses it. That is supposed to be Adora's job, just like it's always been.] What about you, Adora? At least I'm not the one they care about! [She never is. Catra's not the important one: it's always Adora. But that's a lingering resentment that Catra knows is nonsensical here, because she doesn't want to be the one being watched by whoever They are.
Catra can't simmer down, but she can reach desperately for Adora's arm; trying to keep her from taking another step away.] I just want to help you. [--The injury in Catra's tone is real, almost pleading. A few weeks ago, this sort of argument would've been unthinkable. Adora hiding things from her would've been an impossible concept. But it's not too late. If Adora just -- stops letting the sword control her so much, then they can still go back to that unwavering trust and belief in each-other.] Why won't you let me?
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[ Not with this. Not even if she knew. The only people who could aren't here, and she feels like she's going crazy without them; like she's stranded without Glimmer's support and Bow's jokes and Light Hope telling her what to do. Catra used to be her closest ally, her best friend, but they're not the same as they were. They might not ever be.
She looks down at Catra's hand on her arm, and her expression softens. She's angry (angrier than she thought she'd be; at Catra, at herself, at everything), but she's not immune to her best friend's pleas. Even once far worse things happen to both of them, she still won't be. The part of her that cares won't ever stop, not when Catra's reaching out to her, instead of hurting the people she loves. ]
... Hey. I'll be back, okay? [ She's not going somewhere Catra can't, won't, follow, this time. ] I just need some time to think. Alone.
[ And to hit things. Mostly hit things. ]
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She says you can't help me, and Catra's lips press tight, feeling the words sting deeper than Adora seems to realize.]
You don't know that! You won't even let me try.
[And she would try. For her best friend, Catra would try everything. And Adora's admitting it, isn't she? That she does need help. Who's going to give it to her, if not Catra?
She doesn't want to let go, and so Catra doesn't. If anything, her grip tightens as she steps into Adora's space, rallying herself. If she'd let Catra leave when she'd wanted to, she wouldn't need to be the one taking off to 'think'. She could just stay in their room, where Catra knows she is, and think it all over with that stupid cat decoration she'd brought home.]
Leave the sword here. [The demand is a little abrupt, but Catra needs it. The collateral. Because she can't trust Adora's words any more, but she knows that she will come back for the weapon.] --You're just thinking, right? You don't need it for that.
[Unless she's lying again.]
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No, of course she can, she just won't. She hasn't let the sword out of her sight since what happened at Princess Prom, remembering how useless she'd been without it, right when her friends needed her the most. It's the first thing she looks for in the morning, the last thing she checks on before she goes to sleep, the only proof (besides the scars on her own body) that she's not crazy. That the past year happened just like she remembers it did.
Their house is simultaneously the best and worst place for the sword to be, if she did leave it behind. The best, because she knows where it is; the worst, because Catra knows where it is, and Catra is the problem. Potential problem. (She shouldn't think of her that way, but she can't help it. If Catra's memories ever come back, if whatever's been done to her undoes itself, and Adora doesn't have She-Ra...)
She pulls her arm free, and steps out of reach; ignoring the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. ]
I'm sorry. You'll just have to trust me. [ And maybe there's some bitterness in her words, because Catra isn't trusting her now, but neither is Adora, and it's all— a mess. A mess she doesn't know how to fix. She takes another step, and another, telling herself that she's not running away. ] I should be back before dark, but don't stay up waiting.
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Oh. That cracking isn't the ice that Adora's on after all. Turns out, it's just the sound a heart makes when you can't trust your best friend any more.But what did she expect, really?
...Not this, somehow. She'd thought - she'd hoped - that Adora would do it, that she'd be able to let go of the sword for a few hours and entrust it into Catra's care. It was the last opportunity for a show of faith that they could've given each-other, and Adora's refused it. Refused her.
The hurt sticks on Catra's face as Adora pulls away. For the second time, she's leaving: and it doesn't matter if she comes back, because even if she does - Catra's not going to promise that she'll be here. She's not going to stand and watch Adora choose the sword, choose She-Ra, over her. And she's not going to sit alone in an empty room, or curl up on an empty bed, or stare at the wall and try to sleep while she waits for Adora to come home.
With teeth grit against the stinging welling in her eyes, Catra turns on her heel; slamming the door to their room behind her.
At least this way, it feels like she's the one who's made the choice to leave. It makes the rattling slide of the window when she shoves it open feel cathartic, and the cool air welcome when she shimmies out of it, making her way shortly onto the roof.
She's not watching where Adora goes. She's not. She's deliberately turning her back to the front of the cottage, crouched in preparation to spring off somewhere. A spiteful action in case Adora looks back when she leaves, just to show how much Catra doesn't care where she goes.
And meanwhile, with that pain burning in her chest, Catra pitches her own comment onto Light's post. See how Adora likes it, when she's the one being left in the dark.]