pedalbike | 2nd Event: Choices We Make

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2nd Event: Choices We Make

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Arrival

Not all characters (known as Wickie, singular or Wickies, plural) arrive at the same time, surprisingly enough! That’s life for you. Some Wickies find their way to the island at a pivotal (or very mundane) point in their life, or even after or during their death.

Wickies who were standing or walking often find themselves entering the town South Sister, located on Lighthouse Isle, through an open doorway. Those that were laying down, or sleeping, tend to be found lying prone in beds, bathtubs, showers, couches, and similar places within the cottages on Cottage Row. There’s no rhyme or reason to it all! To Wickies familiar with the era, they will realize that everything looks as if it’s come from the ‘90s.

The house which a Wickie finds themselves within could already be occupied. This includes walking into a fellow Wicke, waking up in the same location, or accidentally scaring a room full of people with their sudden appearance.

Oops.

C-C-Changes

Thankfully the fog has gone down to what it was before, a slow creeping crawl over the ground. And too, the monsters of before are gone, leaving the town much like it was before. Well...close to what it was before.

For now the season's have changed, from a lingering summer to a cooler fall.

There’s new foods to try, even if some things like lattes cause people to slip into warm boots and tie up their hair, and soups make people curl up under blankets on the couch. And it also means decorations of all sorts, made of the leaves from the forest, orange, yellow and red things and...we can not forget...

Pumpkin overflow

Pumpkins! They're everywhere. Wickies will find pumpkins infused into all sorts of things, like coffee, ice cream, even spaghetti options! It's wild.

There’s also many jack o'lanterns. They have been placed everywhere in town, outside homes, and even small ones have been made into table decorations. The Jack o lanterns have very cheerful faces, and seem to watch Wickies every single move.

That is, until a Wickie bashes or otherwise abuses a pumpkin. That's when it changes- there seem to be more of them. Their expressions change to that of anger, sadness and disgust. None of them attack- yet. But their faces become more and more horrifying, as they follow the Wickie more and more- outside of the bathroom perhaps, or found on top of them as the Wickie wakes up in the middle of the night.

It shouldn't matter right? They're only pumpkins.

What a ride

Funny enough, with the pumpkin invasion, there also comes a dull colored horse wandering about the island. Its head is drooped, and it looks depressed and lonely. The horse is tame on approach and will accept pats and treats, even from those who are obviously not human.

But it also wants something, for all that it seems to be begging for attention. It wants someone to ride them, seems to even be begging for it with its big eyes. The horse will help Wickies to figure out how to mount; it will even stand beside the Town Center benches, rocks, or even go down in order to make it possible for the Wickie to get onto the horse’s back.

That’s when it changes. The Wickie is immediately wrapped in chains from their barrel to the Wickie’s waist. The horse turns a coal black and the Wickie’s clothing changes into that of a soldier's uniform, with a hand either holding a whip modeled after a human spine, or a jack o'lantern.

The Wickie cannot get off the horse on their own, no matter how much they struggle. As the horse moves throughout the town, they will go anywhere from a walk to a full canter, seemingly impervious to any magic or physical attacks. The same cannot be said for their unfortunate rider.

If the rider is hit, or simply in pain, the Wickie will feel an impulse that grows and grows until they scream a name of someone in town, someone they know.

And the named will drop, paralyzed. Paralyzed wickie are likely to die within minutes, more so if they are too close to horse and rider. The horse will happily trample anyone on the ground to death.

Even without the impulse, should the Wickie rider use anyone’s name, that person will drop, paralyzed, and unable to breathe.

There is only one way to possibly save the rider: scatter golden objects in their path. The horse will shriek, and promptly buck the rider off, before running away. Just make sure to catch the rider, or at least cushion their fall: they have no way of saving themselves until they hit the ground.

Heart game: confession

Current residents of the island may remember this particular beeping alert, and how it doesn’t go away, no matter what they do! That is, unless they open up the Heart Game, and answer the question.

Welcome back everyone! It’s so good to see you again! Now let’s play that game, Confession! And the question isssssss…

How do you celebrate the changing seasons! Don't be shy!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Arrival

[Catra thought she was prepared for whatever they were going to encounter on this mission to Thaymor, but it turns out that all those training simulations? Are totally nothing compared to the field. None of them prepared her for the moment the controls of her tank vanished around her, although the rest of the last five seconds were -- actually, kind of what she expected from Princesses.

Princesses that Shadow Weaver did not warn her would be here. So, like. Excuse Catra, but she's a little bit twitchy; and the moment she registers somebody else nearby, she's whirling on her heel and stepping rapidly backwards, her knees bending, clawed hands rising, and feet sliding apart in preparation to dodge an expected attack.]

Who are you! [She's not scared, okay. She's just hyper-aware that Someone has obviously strong magic, and she's not an idiot who's going to just rush them.] Where've you taken me?!

[But still, answer fast. She's not the patient type.]

a gourd-awful time

[Whatever these lanterns are, they're creepy and Catra does not appreciate them. She doesn't like that they were grinning at her when she accosted someone inside a wooden-walled room, she doesn't like that they were on the roof when she scampered up there, and she doesn't like that however she moves, it feels like they're watching her.

But she does like the satisfying way they smash when she nudges them off the edge of the roof, their orange shells splattering against the ground and onto anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. Don't expect any sort of apology from her, no matter how near any of come to landing on anybody's head. In fact -- the nearer a miss it is, the louder her snort of laughter becomes.]

in general

[She hasn't forgotten the rescue mission she's been sent on. It's been at the forefront of Catra's mind the entire time. Even if she believes this isn't Etheria any more - and... she's a little inclined to, given the shining lights in the sky and the surprising shortage of moons - that doesn't change her best friend's situation. Adora's missing, kidnapped by the rebellion, but Catra is... pretty sure she can smell her somewhere nearby. Problem is, everything here smells so weird and unfamiliar that it's hard to pick her out from the mess.

So, like, don't mind Catra when you see her sniffing the air, her tail lifting up curiously as she tries to sort it all out. Or if you find her scowling skeptically at a hot mug of something she's been told is soup, but which looks and smells drastically different to anything she's ever seen before.]

Edited 2020-09-24 11:45 (UTC)

I haven't taken you anywhere!

[ yikes. yikes yikes yikes yikes!! he's in big trouble isn't he?! and this time he didn't even do anything to deserve it!

actually, catra may realize that flat's clothes are stained with blood, with a couple of tears the size of some decent sized holes. ]

D-did you just get here?! I did too! I've already been injured enough for a while!

[Oh man, the blood's definitely not helping his case. Catra doesn't feel injured, but he doesn't seem to be acting like he is. So, what, that's someone else's blood entirely?

That's not a reassuring thought when Catra's best friend is AWOL.]

Listen. You have no idea who you're messing with here. [Or maybe he does. Either way, Catra's claws extend to their full length with a twitch of her fingers, and her tail lashes with aggressive anxiety.] I'm gonna give you one more chance to answer me. Where. Are. We?

[ flat would have been far more worried about the fact that he's basically being threatened if it weren't for the fact that-- ]

Wait.

[ he looks absolutely serious. ]

Are those cat ears? And claws? And a tail, too...

[ safety be damned. flat isn't even thinking about his life right now. what he's thinking about is-- ]

Woah. You're just like a cat. Cool.

Edited 2020-09-25 02:52 (UTC)

--What?

[That's. So not what she was expecting. Catra's visibly taken aback, before rallying herself.

Which, mostly means pouncing forward with a growl; aiming to grab him by that bloodied shirt to slam him into the wall. If she does get her hands on it, those claws might well be contributing to the holes he's already got.]

Shut up! [Smooth, Catra.] Enough stalling. I'm not gonna ask you again. Tell me where we are, now!

[ oh she can grab him. the blood on his vest and shirt is still damp, and she may feel that when she grasps him. ]

Woah! That was a close one!

[ so why is his mouth not moving when he talks? why will he sound like he’s farther away to the side?

catra may notice it quickly, but it’s because flat has jumped back to the side, hands raised against his chest in a plea of non-agression. the excited smile, however, is still very much on his face. ]

That was amazing! I mean, unfortunately I seriously have no idea where we are so I’m just as confused as you, but that reaction was incredible! I’ll call you Chat!

[ Adora has been having a bad day. It's her own fault, really, for letting Bow and Glimmer convince her to rest before she'd had a chance to make sure every last Horde soldier was gone from Bright Moon. Obviously, there had been a second phase to the attack; a plan to infiltrate the castle and capture She-Ra the moment her guard was down. No wonder she hadn't seen Shadow Weaver anywhere on the battlefield.

Not that she's seen her since arriving, either — which is strange, because Adora knows how much Shadow Weaver loves to gloat. Strange, too, that she still has her sword, isn't strapped to a table somewhere in the Fright Zone, about to have her memories erased. Maybe it's already happened, and this is just the aftermath, trapped inside some grand illusion like in the Crystal Castle. Maybe this is what Beast Island really looks like, even if she hasn't seen any blood beetles or knife trees yet.

Maybe she's already lost.

... Or maybe one (cat) person in particular just wants her all to themselves, away from anything else that might interfere. ]

Oh, of course, [ she mutters darkly, catching sight of Catra sniffing the air near one of the houses. Of course Catra would be involved with any plot to capture her, or torture her, or break her, somehow. At least this way Adora can keep an eye on her, and maybe force her into revealing something about the Horde's — or her own — plans. (How, exactly, she intends to do that is up in the air. Catra has had the same interrogation training as her; those tactics won't work here, even if she had the stomach to try them on her ex-best friend.)

Over a decade of experience has taught her that sneaking up on Catra is almost impossible, so Adora maintains her distance, calling out from across the street with her sword gripped tightly in one hand. ]

Hey, Catra. [ Her voice isn't playful, the way it would have been a year ago. It's angry, and harsh; the still-aching scratches on her back the only fuel she needs. ] Looking for someone?

Adora! [Catra's ears perk immediately at Adora's voice, twitching towards her before the rest of Catra's head can even turn. The look of relief that washes across her face is clear, and she's quick to start towards Adora on the balls of her feet, her tail waving excitedly behind her; but then Adora's tone registers, and Catra's face scrunches in disbelief before furrowing into an irritated scowl as she draws up short.]

Oh come on. [She's folding her arms instead of grabbing Adora eagerly, like she was going to.] You're not seriously mad about this, are you? It's not my fault you went and got yourself kidnapped. [Don't. DO not. Mention that Catra is also, at this moment, kidnapped. At least she was with an entire squadron, rather than chasing after imaginary swords in the Woods on her own.] I found you as soon as I could, so -- come on. [So much for those indignantly folded arms. She's reaching out for Adora now anyway.] We gotta find our way outta here before everyone goes back home without us.

[ Seeing Catra run towards her, not with narrowed eyes full of hate, or smirking at the pain she's about to inflict, but an expression of relief, makes Adora freeze in place. It's a trap, her instincts scream, but it can't be — because she knows Catra too well. For all her ability to lie, to manipulate people (to manipulate Adora, especially), she can't fake that happiness. Wouldn't need to, if she was the one in control here. If she just wanted to torture Adora, there are other, more efficient ways to do it; ones that don't involve humiliating herself in the process by pretending that they're friends, without any sign of her usual mocking attitude.

It's only when Catra reaches for her that her reverie breaks, and she takes a step back, her own eyes wide with shock. The sword acts as a buffer between the two of them; not pointed directly at Catra, but stopping her from getting close to Adora again. ]

What are you talking about? [ Catra sounds so oblivious, like Adora being here isn't (probably) her fault to start with. Even if she somehow is innocent of that particular accusation, the Catra she knows now wouldn't react so... warmly to her presence. Not unless Adora was bound and helpless at her feet, which would at least give her a sick sort of satisfaction, the kind that makes Adora's gut twist in a knot to imagine. ] Of course I'm mad. You—

[ Attacked Bright Moon. Hurt her friends. (Hurt Adora, but that barely matters in the scheme of things.) Kidnapped her, or maybe not, but either way they're both here, and they should be enemies, but Catra is looking at her like she hasn't for almost a year and, and— ]

Just stop it, Catra. Or Shadow Weaver, or Light Hope, or whoever you are. [ If this is a training exercise, or a mind game, she's failed. She's totally, utterly failed, and she can't even try to fight back against it; so-called hero that she is. ] Haven't you done enough already?

[ Can't she have one single day to feel good about herself? To be safe? Tears already pricking at the corner of her eyes, she bites her lip in frustration, tasting blood in her mouth. Maybe this is the lesson, her punishment for being selfish, for thinking that her victory meant anything at all. Next time, she'll do better. She'll be better. But not now. Not with Catra in front of her, wanting to take her to a home that isn't Adora's to go to anymore, and never will be again. She just stares, and waits for the hammer to fall. ]

[She doesn't expect Adora to back away from her, refusing the hand that's reached out for her - and the look that crosses Catra's face is stricken, something stabbing deep in her chest.

Something's wrong, clearly. Catra's gotten here too late; the Princesses have done something to Adora's mind. She's talking nonsense, sounding hurt and defensive with tears building in her eyes, and Catra glances around quickly; checking for anyone who might be waiting to take advantage of her weakness. She wants to put her hands on Adora's shoulders; wants to gently crowd her towards a more secluded area, where it'll be safer for her to have whatever breakdown she's going through - but that sword, the one Catra hadn't noticed before because she was so excited to see her best friend's face, is between them.]

Hey. Hey. [Adora won't hurt her, she tells herself; stepping forward cautiously, both hands raised in placation. She's never seen Adora so upset before, and it's -- distressing, and it's upsetting Catra. Just what have these Princesses done to her?] I just got here. Whatever it is you think I've done, it's all in your head. [And she's reaching out again, slowly, with one hand. Her eyes and tone beseeching; asking Adora to trust her.] They're messing with you, Adora. Can't you see that? I've been covering for you in the Fright Zone this whole time. There's no way I could've done whatever they've told you.

[Shadow Weaver, on the other hand -- yeah, Catra wouldn't be surprised if she'd tried to encourage Adora home in her own creepy, messed-up way before sending Catra out after her. Probably better not admit that she's the one who tracked Adora down, just in case that adds fuel onto the anti-Catra fire.]

No, no, no. You're just trying to trick me. [ She laughs derisively, the noise tearing itself from her throat. It sounds like she's trying to convince herself more than Catra; to claw her way out of a hole filled with dread, not realizing she's only burying herself deeper. ] Did Shadow Weaver put you up to this? Even for her, that's low.

[ Catra's own voice rings in her ears — you know nothing's too low for me — but she knows that isn't true. Hopes it isn't true, even when she's already seen Catra sink lower than she ever thought possible. But she's right about one thing: Adora definitely won't hurt her. Not intentionally, at least. She only ever fought to defend herself against Catra, or to stop her from hurting others, but no more than that. Adora never wanted to see Catra cry out in pain, the way Catra wanted Adora to. More than once, she held back from what could so easily have been a finishing blow, or stayed focused on her task while Catra tore shreds into her skin.

And yet, the look on Catra's face is almost worse than whatever She-Ra could do to her with a weapon. It reminds her so much of Thaymor, and she can already feel things spiraling in the same direction, all while she's helpless to stop it from happening again. Is that what she needs to do? To let go, this time without Catra forcing her hand, but with her forcing Catra's? To prove that she's capable of it?

Because she isn't. Not here, alone, without even Bow and Glimmer to rely on, staring at the one person missing in her life. At Catra, reaching for her again, and Adora can't even bring herself to move away again, finally lowering her sword in defeat — while at the same time, a chill of realization runs down her spine. No part of the Horde looks kindly upon failure, and Shadow Weaver even less kindly than most. So when Catra lost the Battle of Bright Moon... what happened to her afterward? ]

Catra. [ Her voice is urgent, but filled with a deep sadness. ] What's the last thing you remember? You said you were covering for me, but for how long? How long have I been gone?

[ She hates herself for asking, for wondering if Catra could have suffered the same fate Adora herself narrowly avoided... and worse, if it might be a good thing. Is there a price too great for her happiness, even if she doesn't remember paying it? (Of course there is. Anything involving Catra and Shadow Weaver is too much, but if it's already happened, wouldn't it be kinder to fix her past mistakes, instead of repeating them? This time, she can look out for Catra, too, the way she always should have.) ]

[That is noooooooooot a good laugh. Catra's tail twitches tensely in acknowledgement of it, but she's still not deterred despite the accusation of tricking her. It's usually a fair call, Catra is usually up to something, but that's not the case here. Or, well. She's not up to anything that's to Adora's detriment, okay.

Adora's letting her touch her now, and she's lowering her sword, letting Catra move into her properly. She wastes no time putting the re-permitted freedom to use, hands settling first on the sides of Adora's arms and then sliding down to her elbows, pressing her fingers in firmly in comfort.]

Uh. [And that is not the question Catra expected, but maybe she should have. In any case, she's taken aback by it.] Long enough. You've got everyone out looking for you. [An exaggeration, it's only been a day and it's technically just a small squadron. And, yeah, it absolutely is Shadow Weaver who's put her up to this rescue mission. Catra's still not dumb enough to confess that, with the weird mood Adora's in. She'll just let it slide by.

Besides, it's pretty validating to hear Adora actually blaming Shadow Weaver for once. She can keep at it, Catra's not going to stop her on that one.] So much for not being noticed, people are losing their minds. Nobody ever thought you'd be the one to sneak out.

[Mostly, they can't believe she'd go without Catra by her side. Catra couldn't believe it either, honestly - but still, she forces herself to snicker. It's all becoming clear now, the more Adora goes on. Something must've gotten into her head when they were in the Woods, that's why she was acting so weird. Catra never should've let her out of her sight.]

But, hey, you got your dumb sword, right? [Is it the sword that's screwing her up so much? Or is it just a prop? Catra's going to have to figure out a way to get it off of her and find out, but right now she's focused on Adora's eyes; checking them subtly for any sign of concussion or... or anything that might be a sign of something that Catra can fix.] Is that what you went back for?

Edited 2020-09-25 12:07 (UTC)

[ Adora might be prepared for Catra to touch her, but she still flinches at the contact, waiting for the attack she's convinced herself will follow afterward... and choking down a sob when it never comes, the gesture staying a purely comforting one. She's bulked up slightly since leaving the Horde, from eating real food for the first time in her life, and she hopes Catra doesn't notice the differences under her fingers. (Especially when Catra looks exactly how Adora tries to remember her as, her mismatched eyes still filled with more kindness than anger, and that only makes it hurt more.) ]

Long enough? That's all you have to say? It's been... [ almost a year, she swallows, nearly ruining the lie before it can begin. Because that's what this has to be, if she's going to stick to it. She has to lie to Catra; not just about being gone, but about almost everything, and hope it all doesn't somehow blow up in her face. Has to try and make what happened since then fit into Catra's narrowed view of things, holding back most of what she's learned about herself, and Etheria, and... and Catra.

So Adora does what she's always done, whenever something stopped making sense. She compartmentalizes; pushing away all her doubts, like she did every time the Horde's cruelty threatened to shatter her good-versus-evil worldview as a kid, or when Catra came back to bed with bruises that weren't from training. Catra mentions the sword, and Adora blinks away the tears from her eyes, shifting focus to one of the few things she can actually try and explain. ]

My sword. [ She repeats, numbly. Both hands tighten around the hilt, still nervous about letting Catra near it, after what happened the last few times. ] It was there in the Whispering Woods, just like I remembered. Like it was waiting for me. [ For the first She-Ra in a thousand years. She holds it up for Catra to see better, offering proof of what she's saying. ] Still think I'm brain damaged?

[ The comment slips out before she can stop it, lacking her usual smugness that comes with being right about something, but it's exactly what she would have said if she'd gone back afterward with sword in hand, the way she always meant to. She knows that if Bow and Glimmer hadn't found her first, she'd have become another weapon for the Horde to destroy people with, willingly or otherwise. Catra deserves the same chance she had, and Adora's going to give it to her. ]

... I have something I need to tell you. And it's going to sound crazy, but you have to believe me. Okay? [ She can't keep this part from Catra. Sooner or later, she'll figure it out on her own, and then the feelings of betrayal will start all over again. Adora sucks in a deep breath; staring down at Catra's hands on her elbows, as if drawing strength from the contact. She really, truly, hopes she isn't making an even bigger mistake when she says: ] Catra... I'm a Princess.

[She's hanging on Adora's every word, and Catra wishes she'd finished saying how long she thinks it's been. That way, at least Catra could get an idea of what might've been shoved into Adora's head.

A sword existing definitely does not eliminate the possibility of brain damage, and Catra's unconvinced side-eye of it reflects that. (Speaking of reflecting -- woah that thing's shiny.)

Still, she listens; her ears pricking forward attentively when she nods, minutely. But she's unable to hold herself to it - to the agreement that she'll believe Adora - when that's what she comes out with, and Catra keeps it together for all of a second before she ~~squeaks~~ snorts, huffing the hot air of her laughter into Adora's face.]

Is that what they told you? And you believed them? [She's not saying it meanly, despite her entertained grin; a spark of relief in her eyes as she takes one of her hands from Adora's elbow to tug at her hair poof. It seems like a childish move meant to start a fight, and it kind of is, but more than that it's a way to test if there are any sore spots on Adora's head that she's going to flinch to protect.] Yeah, brain damage is definitely still on the table.

[Catra really shouldn't find this so funny. Her best friend thinks she's a Princess and they're both in a weird and terrible situation, and Shadow Weaver is no doubt going to find a way to blame Catra for everything.

But it's so ridiculous. Adora, a super-powered and out-of-control Princess? She's a lot of things, but that's not one of them.] You've got nothing to worry about, okay? [She's trying to look reassuring, but the crinkle of her eyes and amused motions of her tail give away how much she believes this claim. If this is what Adora's having her crisis about, at least it's something that's so absurd that it should be easy for Catra to shoot it down.] You're nothing like them. I think we'd know by now if you were.

It's not funny!

[ She bats Catra's hand away from her hair, scowling. It hurts, because in any other situation, she'd be laughing right alongside her at the absurdity of it all. Princesses were evil to the Horde, monsters born and bred, not something you discovered you were one day, sword or no sword. Shadow Weaver always said she was special, that she was destined for greatness, and she was right. Just in a way nobody ever predicted.

But Adora can't laugh about it. Not when she remembers everything that came afterward; how the revelation tore them both apart, the way Catra looked at her like she was a monster through the haze at Thaymor. Ridiculous or not, this is her reality, and has been for a long time. It's a matter of convincing Catra to accept that, and she only gets one shot. ]

I'm not kidding. I really am a Princess. But before I show you, I want you to know something.

I'm the same person I always have been. I might look different, but I'm still Adora. Promise me you understand that.

[ She can't transform until she has Catra's trust. She needs it now, as Adora, because she never managed to earn it as She-Ra. Maybe she'll still freak out, or get angry, but as longer as she understands, they can get through it. Together. ]

[Well, no flinching. But the fact that Adora won't let her check her head over doesn't give her much credibility, even if Catra's method of checking is more like rough-housing. Not many people would let her be the one to determine their need for first aid.

Adora's still coordinated enough to land a perfect smack against Catra's arm though, so she lets her off the hook for now. She's pretty sure that what's going on here isn't a physical problem anyway.]

Adora. You're not a Princess. You gotta trust me on this.

[The batted-at hand of hers comes to rest firmly on Adora's shoulder, and Catra does manage to remove most of the amusement from her face. She's trying, okay, to keep a level expression - because Adora's taking this so seriously, and she's so upset by it - but it's really just. It's so dumb.] You've been kidnapped, and they've done something screwy to your head. [Yeah, Catra absolutely shouldn't be making fun of her. But they'll laugh about this together as soon as Adora's better, so what's the harm?] We can fix it [she hopes. It's gonna be awkward otherwise.], so -- let's just go find the rest of the squad and get you home before it gets any worse.

[ Adora grits her teeth, wanting to scream in frustration. Was Catra always this stubborn? (Yes. Yes, she was. Both of them are the type to never back down from their decisions, and that's why she needs to make the right one, this time.) ]

Fine. I'll have to show you. [ She'll have to trust Catra, the way she wants Catra to trust her. ] Just remember what I said, okay?

[ Please. Please, remember. She puts her hand over Catra's on her shoulder, squeezing once before stepping backwards; holding up her sword with a firm expression. ]

For the honor of Grayskull!

[ There's the usual flash of golden light, the rush of power that accompanies every transformation, but Adora can't enjoy herself during the process. She's too busy waiting for it to finally end, the few seconds she can't see Catra's face seeming to stretch out for an eternity, as the glowing around her slowly dissipates — leaving behind not Adora, but She-Ra in its wake. ]

[Woah, no, Adora does not get to break contact again that quickly. Does she not realize how badly she freaked Catra out, with her disappearance? Catra thought she'd gone off willingly, and then when Shadow Weaver told her she was off in a rebel village -- the very worst had come into Catra's mind. Adora had only been gone for a day and most of a night, but that was definitely enough time for anyone to do significant harm to her. To find her in one piece, with just her head a bit confused... that's not something that Catra's taking for granted.

So when Adora moves to step back and raises her sword, Catra's hand flies out after her; gripping tightly around her wrist as she calls out a nonsense phrase--

--and then hisses as light erupts, throwing up her other arm across her face and hunching down over Adora's arm to shield herself. She didn't hear the clatter or explosion of a grenade, but she pulls at Adora's arm anyway, trying to drag her away from it. Only, her hand slips; and Catra realizes, belatedly, that her fingertips are no longer touching around the circumference of Adora's wrist. And it feels rather a bit too smooth and cool to be the white fabric of Adora's shirt.

Ears flattened back against her head, tail protectively close to her leg, Catra squints open her eyes. Only instead of the red of Adora's jacket and white of her shirt, there's the gold of a bracer beneath her hand and bare skin stretched over taut muscles that are -- definitely -- not Adora's.

And neither is the face that she looks up at, cold blue eyes gleaming among floating gold hair, and Catra promptly drops the wrist she's holding and starts backwards with a yelp.]

Catra! [ She yells, stepping forward instinctively, like Catra might disappear if Adora doesn't chase after her. ] Catra, it's me. It's Adora.

[ Not an enemy, or someone to be feared. Adora lowers her sword, trying her best to look as unintimidating as possible, even if that's not the easiest thing in the world when you're practically a giant. The only thing she can think is please don't hate me, over and over again, like a mantra, hoping that she's made the right choice. ]

I heard a voice when I touched the sword. It told me what to say, and then — this happened. [ She gestures at herself with her free hand. ] It freaked me out too at first, but you don't have to be scared. I'm not a monster.

Catra | She-Ra and the Princesses of Power | get in chaps we're giving early s1 a try

arrival

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i cannot believe you've done this

i do it just to annoy you

>confirm eject

that's not even how that game works

>swannies votes for elle

it wasn't me it was swannies in electrical

shut up impostor

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In general (sorry Catra)

oh god

sorry sorry sorry

DON'T BE SORRY

OHOHO~

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