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pedalbike2020-09-18 07:11 pm
upcyclingmod) wrote in pedalbike2020-09-18 07:11 pm
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2nd Event: Choices We Make
Welcome to the Test Drive Meme.
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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!
>swannies votes for elle
[ 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.) ]
it wasn't me it was swannies in electrical
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?
shut up impostor
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.
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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
squeakssnorts, 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.
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[ 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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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.]
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[ 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.
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She doesn't even hear her name being called, not really. One arm raises protectively in front of her chest when the towering... towering person moves her sword. But it's not the strike that Catra's alert instincts are insisting it'll be, and one ear swivels forward hesitantly, her raised fur bristling further when it's Adora's voice that registers over the shocked pounding of her heart.
The sword. It's the sword. Catra's eyes flick to it with the confirmation, fixating on the blue gem glowing with the same light as - Adora's? - eyes. The rest of the explanation falls by the wayside, the most important information having been received. It's the sword that's the problem. It spoke to Adora, put words in her head, and -- Catra doesn't know how magic works, exactly, but she's pretty sure she needs to get that thing away from her best friend, before whatever this is goes any further.]
Adora-- [her voice wavers when she finds it, and Catra doesn't have time to correct it.] --Doesn't any of that sound weird to you? [there goes her tail, curling anxiously by her ankles.] Swords don't talk to people. Just -- put it down, okay? And we'll figure out what it's doing to you.
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It's not doing anything to me. [ Well. ] Nothing bad, anyway. It might look that way to you, but it isn't.
[ Her shoulders sag, and while it's not enough to make her look small, it adds to the pleading look on her face. ]
I know the Horde says that Princesses are evil, and all they do is hurt people, but can't you trust me? Not the sword, or Shadow Weaver, or anything else. [ Just her. ] Please, Catra.
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[Adora doesn't tower over Catra. Her hair doesn't blow in a non-existent wind, and she doesn't wear a tiara, and she doesn't. glow.]
Of course I trust you, but this is crazy. [Adora's pleading look - so weird and out of place on such a towering figure - is matched with Catra's own.] You're not magic, Adora. That sword, it's -- infecting you, or something. You've got to get rid of it.
[Please.]
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... If I drop the sword, will that help? [ A snap decision, one that yet again goes against everything her head is telling her. If she puts the sword down, Catra can pick it up. If Catra picks it up... no. No, if Adora wants her trust, she can't think like that anymore. ] Here, look. I'm putting it down.
[ Bending down, she places it on the ground between them, then holds out both her hands; showing Catra that they're empty. Larger than they should be, if they were Adora's own, but empty. ]
See? Still a Princess. [ Still She-Ra. ] I'll turn back, but not until you stop freaking out. You need to accept this. We both do.
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The moment Adora's hands are raised, Catra steps forward -- and kicks the sword, sending it skittering away on the paved road.
It doesn't make a bit of difference.]
I'm not freaking out! [Her traitor tail is bushed, and the fur on her hackles is completely raised, and her hair has risen and her voice has pitched up--- okay, maybe she's freaking out a little.] --And why are you so okay with this?! You've been gone for -- for a day, and now you've found a freaky sword that talks to you and turns you into this?!
[do you understand where she's coming from, adora.]
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[ It's just hard to undo a year's worth of acceptance; to act how she did back then, when she's long since come to accept She-Ra as part of her. She's already dancing around one truth, and she's a bad liar at the best of times, something she knows must be making her look suspicious. ]
But I'm the one this is happening to. Don't I get a say in whether or not it's a bad thing? [ But then, what Adora wants has never mattered, not even to herself. She tries to appeal to Catra's logical side instead. ] All it's done is make me stronger, Catra. Think about it. I can protect you.
[ Properly, this time. From Shadow Weaver, and from the Horde, and... from herself, with the knowledge of how Catra really feels about their relationship. ]
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But, hey, good news. If the intention was to make Catra incredulous instead of worried, it worked.]
Protect me? From what? [Her offense isn't as vitriolic as it was in the Crystal Castle. This Catra is still used to having Adora's eyes looking out for her, and to always having Adora at her back.
It's galling, though, to have Adora speak about it outright. It's an open secret, everybody knows how protective they are of each-other. But it's not the sort of thing you say, or call attention to.
Though... the idea of having the obvious strength of this giant on their side is an appealing idea. There's just one problem:]
How you do think we'd even hide this? They're not gonna let a... [she's not a Princess. She's not.] ...eight foot glowing woman lead a squad, Adora. What good's any boost it gives you if we can't even use it?
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We don't have to hide it. Because... [ This is her one chance. Her one chance to fix what she did at Thaymor. ] Because we're not going back to the Horde.
[ We. Not just Adora. Not her accusing Catra of overlooking how evil they were, of being okay with Shadow Weaver's manipulations. They can both leave, the way they should have a long time ago, if Adora wasn't too stupid (and deliberately blind) to see the truth. ]
The Horde hurts people, Catra. They've hurt us. [ And they're going to keep on hurting Catra, if she goes back. ] This is our chance to get away from all of that. We can join the Rebellion, together, and never have to see Shadow Weaver's stupid face again. Or... her mask, I guess.
[ Adora shudders at the memory of what they'd seen as kids, in the Black Garnet Chamber. How hadn't she understood then? She'd heard Shadow Weaver threaten to dispose of Catra, right in front of her. It doesn't matter that she was a child — she should have done something more than just beg her to stop, like a coward.
But she was scared, too. Scared of angering Shadow Weaver, of losing Catra for good. She would have been fine with being hurt instead (preferred it, even, to take all Catra's suffering on herself), but Shadow Weaver never made things that easy; knowing that anything inflicted on Catra would push Adora twice as hard to be better next time. And Adora had excused it, the way she always did, because Shadow Weaver was only punishing them for breaking the rules. It was their own fault. Her own fault. ]
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Except, now it is.
...But it's only there because of that sword. The one that Catra knows, for sure, is affecting her.]
I... [She shouldn't want, as much as she does, to take it. To snatch up Adora's offer quickly and greedily, before she can come to her senses and recant it. She should be shutting her down, dismissing what is obviously the sword's influence on her and bringing her back to the Fright Zone immediately for treatment.
Instead, she's meeting Adora's bright eyes; searching them with her own, still stunned and reeling. After an entire lifetime of talking her up, defending her, praising her wisdom and scolding Catra for being disrespectful towards her--]
...Did you just admit Shadow Weaver's stupid?
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Yeah. Yeah, I did. [ She laughs, a mixture of nervousness and relief bubbling to the surface. Even with her comments to Bow and Glimmer, she's never outright insulted Shadow Weaver before, and: ] Wow, it feels good to say that.
[ Good enough that she's going to say it again. ]
Shadow Weaver is stupid. And a lot of other things, too. Getting out of the Fright Zone really put it all in perspective. [ Great acting, Adora. Not suspicious in the slightest to come to that realization in one day. ] So why go back? I know you don't like her either.
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Buuuut... there's no reason why Catra can't be the one who helps her, right? Shadow Weaver can't be the only creepy sorceress with a penchant for messing up people's minds out there. Catra will just find them another one, and by the time that happens maybe Adora really will have gotten used to how terrible Shadow Weaver is.
Despite herself, Catra's tail is lifting from its harried position. No matter the circumstances, hearing Adora agree with her about Shadow Weaver feels good. Now that Adora's finally seeing things her way, is she really going to force them both to go back?
There's still, Adora's mental wellbeing aside, one big problem:]
Shadow Weaver's not going to let you get away that easily. [And Catra sounds. Just a little resentful. As much as she hopes otherwise, she knows that if it's just her who disappears, it'll probably be weeks before Shadow Weaver even notices.] She's tracking you already. That's how we found you. Even if we go and hide out with the rebels [which -- ha! -- no. They're not doing that. That's where Catra's drawing the line on Adora's delusions.], it won't take long before she sends another squad out after you.
[And Catra knows exactly what their orders will look like. They'll be instructed to bring Adora - just Adora - home, no matter the cost. It's safer for them, for Catra, to go back now, rather than wait for that to happen.]
They're gonna keep coming, Adora. Shadow Weaver is freaking out about this little trip of yours, and she's not gonna stop just because you've decided you don't wanna go home.
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I know she won't just let me go, Catra. [ I've already beaten her once, she wants to say, even though that wasn't the real thing, just her shadow puppets pursuing Adora to the ends of Etheria. She doesn't know how she'd fare against the real Shadow Weaver and all her magic, but she's willing to give it a try; especially with Catra's help, this time. ] That's why we're going to the Rebellion. They've been fighting the Horde for a long time, and they're good at it.
[ ... Sort of. Sometimes. Not that "the Rebellion" was even a thing, then, outside of a few scattered groups. Until She-Ra showed up, it was every Princess for themselves and their own kingdom, with only Glimmer making an effort to bring everyone together — but she's counting on Catra buying the idea of some united front. ]
Think about it. I'm a Princess, so they'll have to let me in. And where I go, you go. [ You'd think she'd have learned by now not to imply that Catra needs to follow after her like some kind of pet, but hey! That's Adora for you! ] Even if they don't [ which she's only saying because she knows they will, ], the two of us can figure something out. What's Shadow Weaver going to do against this? [ She gestures down at herself — all eight feet of her. ] I can take on a squad, no problem.
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Catra's not convinced of Adora's ability to take on an entire squadron though, or of her claim to suddenly be a Princess, and she scoffs. At least right now, in this point of her life, she is used to being Adora's shadow. 'Where you go, I go' is right - except for when Adora takes off in the middle of the night without her.
Yeah, she's still sore about that.]
You're not a Princess. [How many times is she going to have to reiterate that? Catra misses her Adora already. The one that's a normal height, and who has a ponytail Catra can pull on when she's being stupid.] You don't even have any magic powers. What're you gonna do, flex at Shadow Weaver until she lets you go?
[She's getting agitated again, too many absurdities piling up. It'd be easier to accept it if Adora were suggesting the two of them go off on their own, but she's not. For whatever reason, she's stubbornly stuck on the idea of sucking up to their enemy instead.]
What about being Force Captain? Adora, we've worked our whole lives [so many days of endless training and tests, enduring life in the Fright Zone because their goal, together, is to rise up and lead the Horde] for this, and we're finally getting somewhere. You really want us to just -- throw it all away, and go join the losers?
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I mean, I was already good at punching, but— watch.
[ To demonstrate, she takes a few steps back, gets down on one knee, and smashes her fist into the ground. It leaves a crater far larger than just the initial impact zone around her knuckles, huge cracks fanning out for at least a foot in every direction, and Adora raises her hand to show the complete lack of damage to herself. ]
It's not worth it, Catra. [ The suffering, the pain... the whole actually being evil thing, but she knows that doesn't have the same shock value to Catra as it did to her. Maybe they could change the Horde from within, eventually, but it would take too long. Adora can't go back to being a part of that terrible machine. ] We'll still have to take orders from Shadow Weaver. From Hordak. It could be years until we're in charge. Do you really want to go back to that?
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Catra's not proud of how she's wound up on a roof, fluffed out and bristling, and if a single other person has witnessed this then she's absolutely going to murder Adora.
(At least she can stretch out a leg behind her and kick off the lantern that she can feel grinning at her.)]
Of course I don't wanna go back to that, I never wanted to do it to begin with! [Don't mind the indignant pitch of her tone, Catra's just got to channel the someone just punched a crater into where I was standing adrenaline somewhere. (Never mind that Adora was a few feet away. The ground Catra was standing on still has a crack in it, that's enough for her.) Everything they've been taught about Princesses is firing rapidly through her mind. They're out of control, they abuse their powers recklessly, stay with your squad because if you come across one in the field, your only chance is to overwhelm them with numbers. According to their training, Catra should fall back and regroup before the Princess' wild magic eviscerates her.
She definitely shouldn't be scowling down at her with her bushed tail lashing in agitation.]
Why now, Adora? We could've gotten out of there years ago if that was what you really wanted. And why the Rebellion? Is this all stuff your dinky little sword told you to do?
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Yes... and no. [ How does she even explain this? She decides to tell the truth, and just leave out everything involving Bow and Glimmer. ] After I found the sword, I ended up in Thaymor. You know, the village we were supposed to attack? [ That Adora was going to lead the charge against, and that part still makes a lump rise in her throat, imagining herself driving a tank and blasting apart homes— ] I couldn't do it. They weren't insurgents, they were civilians. The Horde just wanted their land for resources, and because it was so close to Bright Moon.
[ She's still kneeling when she holds her hands out plaintively, trying to make herself look less — everything, which loses some impact when she's still kneeling next to a crater she just put in the ground. ]
... I really thought we were doing the right thing. That Shadow Weaver cared about me — about us. That's why I stayed. [ Which she knows makes her sound stupid, and risks making Catra angry again, but she's already risking that with her 'sudden' change of heart. She has to at least explain why she's having it. ] The Rebellion is our best chance to fix all of this. Even if we could get by on our own, I don't want to run away. I want to help save Etheria.
[ And you, she adds silently, but she already knows what takes priority if she has to choose. That's what makes this next part a lie; because she's done it before, will do it again, if Catra doesn't agree, but the selfish part of herself that she denies, denies, denies, is desperate enough to try, one last time, painting it as all for Catra's sake. ]
But I can't do it alone. You're my friend, and I... I need you. [ She doesn't. She just wants her. ] So please... come with me?
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