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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!
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Obviously not. [ What is it with Catra and bullying her about the tiara? She knows why, of course — it's the last thing she'd ever wear over more practical options like a helmet, or sticking with her hair poof. But it's still mean to point out the obvious, as if Catra can't figure out the answer already. ] The first time I used the sword, all of this just... happened. I didn't choose anything.
[ Talk about an understatement. Adora wishes she had a better explanation, even for her own sake. She's spent a year surrounded by magic, years more training to counter it in the Horde, but some things, she's just had to accept as beyond her understanding. Why She-Ra needs a tiara is one of those. Why she can't have pants is another. ]
But... [ She flexes an exposed beefy arm, her goofy smile transforming into more of an I know you like me smirk, complete with a cocky wink. ] I can think of one good part about the new look.
[ Because Catra does still like her, as a friend, if she's willing to follow her into the light instead of retreating back into the comforting dark. Adora's just glad for the chance to be a better friend to Catra, this time; masking her true thoughts behind familiar banter. ]
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Catra's eyes do linger on the flex of her bicep, because -- they're friends, and it's not like it's the first time Adora's been proud to show off. But as ever, that lingering look is all the ground she gets from Catra, and even that's tinged with amusement.]
Huh. You know, I think I almost see it. [That slow swish of her tail and narrowing of her eyes are warnings, Adora. Ones that might be a bit more visible than the tensing of the muscles in her legs.] Hold still a sec, would you?
[Adora wanted her to get a closer look? Okay, Catra will go in for a closer look. It's not that big of a jump to make it from the roof to land - intentionally heavy - on her shoulders. If Adora stumbles or falls, so be it. It's no skin off Catra's nose.]
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Catra! [ She laughs, raising a hand to check that she's still steady after her leap. Which, of course she is, she's Catra — safely navigating places where she shouldn't be her whole thing — but Adora's first instinct is to make sure. ] Enjoying the view?
[ The view of what, exactly, she doesn't specify, but she flexes again; this time with both arms. (Look, she's never gotten to impress Catra with She-Ra before. This is just... helping her accept that it's a good thing to have a giant Princess on her side.) ]
I need to go get my sword, but I'll wait until you're comfortable first. Take as long as you want. [ Adora tilts her head up so she can smile at her, soft and genuine. First She-Ra, then the sword. Expecting both at once was probably a little much. ]
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Which is to say, Catra's gotten a bit personal with her hair for a brief moment there, when one of her feet slips on the unexpectedly smooth surface of a pointed golden spaulder and her hands grip into it reflexively. She's corrected herself before Adora's hand even reaches her, slipping away from it. She's fine. Catra's climbed more dangerous things than her best friend before.]
Eh. Looks pretty much the same to me. [Is that a foot unceremoniously braced on the gold adorning Adora's chest, and a knee jammed into her forehead, while Catra maneuvers to be crouching the same direction as her, balanced behind her head? It sure is. And is that her tail batting, deliberate and annoying, into Adora's face? Right again. Some people just have no respect.
She gets a couple of moments to eye off the taut lines of Adora's strained muscles rather freely, before Adora's head moves; and Catra's a little late to stopping the more affectionate drag of her tail as it brushes along one of Adora's arms. She's still in time to be smirking, though; folding her arms casually on Adora's tilted head, and resting the front of her chin on them to look down at her, nose wrinkling at the nearness of the tiara. More and more, she's realizing that she wasn't only having trouble tracking Adora down because of the weird smells in this place or the misty fog dampening things. It's because Adora smells like this now, with the tickle of magic clinging to her even when she's her regular self.]
Forget the sword. [No, seriously. Forget it. That thing is bad news.] I wanna see what you can do to those lanterns. [They'll probably explode under her fists. Not as good as firing off a tank and laughing giddily as the adrenaline of a blast rocks the ground, but hopefully way better than dropping them off a roof.] Don't tell me you're too afraid of getting dirty to have a little fun.
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[ If Catra wants to imply that Adora was always this big and muscly, then she's not going to argue. She snort-laughs as Catra maneuvers herself into position, both from the tail (and fur) in her face, and the sudden rush of her best friend touching her so casually again, no matter how much of a pain she is about it. (Plus, it makes her feel powerful, to have Catra climbing on her like a tree. She's used to being the taller one, but this is something else.) ]
I can't just forget it. I need a weapon. [ She-Ra might count as a weapon all on her own, but Adora still needs the sword to be her in the first place. She's fine with waiting, though; knowing the transformation will hold for a while longer. ] But sure, I can smash some lanterns. [ How convenient — there's one right nearby, and Adora grins at its angry face as she raises one oversized boot. ] Starting with this one right... here!
[ Splat goes the pumpkin; and, in turn, its orangey guts over Adora's nice white outfit. Blood and damage never stick through her transformations, so she's pretty sure some goop won't either, but who really cares at this point? She's having fun, and Catra is too... for now.
For now, because the next lantern she crushes in her bare hands, then reaches up behind her head to smear the insides on Catra's fur, all while wearing the smuggest grin imaginable. ]
Not afraid of getting dirty, are you?
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She still doesn't know what that was about, what the sword convinced Adora she'd done. It's a good thing that the sword underestimated their trust in each-other, or who knows where they'd be right now. Catra probably would have had to subdue Adora and take her in by force, and they'd be back in Shadow Weaver's dimly-lit room while she poked around undoing the weirdness that's got Adora acting out against her.
It's what she should be doing, it's the fastest way to get Adora fixed, and that means it's selfish for Catra to laugh loudly when Adora's dumb, bright boot smashes down into a scowling lantern and splatters its orange mess everywhere... but Catra's never claimed to be anything but a selfish person. Besides, she's... Scoping out what the sword's done to Adora. Gathering intel.
Trying to determine if her best friend really is a Princess now, or if she's just imagining it the way Catra thinks she is.It's equal parts intimidating and exciting to see her crush a lantern in her hands, and the puff of Catra's fur is exuberant for all of two seconds before she realizes Adora's hand is heading for her.]
Ado--ora!! [It starts off as a warning, and then rises in pitch as Adora's hands smear orange gunk onto her. Squirming away does no good; she can feel the goop settling in to her fur and uniform as she tries and fails to evade Adora's larger-than-normal hands, and so Catra goes for plan b: scraping a quick swipe of the orange mess from herself, and smacking it gracelessly into the side of Adora's face, rubbing firmly to smush it blindly into her skin.]
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[ The Princess currently giggle-snorting as Catra returns the favour, her tongue briefly darting out to taste some of the mess stuck to her cheek. It's a far cry from Bright Moon cuisine, but good enough to see them through a survival situation, until she can get in touch with Bow or Glimmer... and if she has to be stuck in a strange place with one other person, there's no one better than a friendly Catra to increase both their odds of getting home safe, even with a loooot of explaining to do.
In the back of her mind, she's already assessing the situation, planning ahead for their next move. They'll have to find a river, or a house with a functioning water supply; both for drinking and cleaning themselves with. Catra might hate getting wet, but it's an improvement over the freezing cold showers in the Fright Zone, and she can't stay covered in sticky goop forever. (Well. She probably can, but Adora's not going to let her.)
Idly, Adora wonders if Catra will be jealous of her magical self-repairing (and cleaning) Princess outfit saving her from a change of clothes. Their Horde uniforms are built for practicality, which Adora deeply appreciates, but she likes the idea of Catra wearing things not made strictly for combat purpose, more along the lines of her suit at Princess Prom. Catra might not remember that incident, but Adora does, especially when she knows it was designed to have an effect on her. Good thing it definitely, absolutely, completely failed to do so, except to put the idea of Catra in different outfits in her head months later.
But that's something for Future Adora to think about. Present Adora is grabbing another pumpkin off a nearby bench with an evil chuckle, wrapping her fingers around the gourd as she holds it aloft. ]
Had enough yet? 'Cause I can do this all day. [ Her plans if Catra disagrees are clear, and they involve a lot more ruffling and messing up of fur. All's fair in
lovefriendship and war. ] Admit it. She-Ra is the coolest thing you've ever seen.[ Accidental namedrop, whoops. ]
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(That they don't have anything else to wear isn't a yet a concern on Catra's radar.)]
You wish! [The wings of Adora's stupid tiara dig in to her when she leans over her head to make a swipe for the lantern. A move that she's distracted from with her arm outstretched and claws partially dug into its flesh, when Adora apparently decides to go with 'She-Ra' as a name.
It's 3, 2, 1 -- and then Catra's face scrunches, and a pffft turns into a disbelieving laugh that would be threatening to upset her balance on Adora's shoulders, were it not for the gourd she's bracing on.]
Did you just codename yourself? [Catra sounds delighted by this. Which, of course, is not a good thing.] That's the lamest thing I've ever heard! Can you imagine how that's gonna sound? [She pitches her voice into a mocking imitation.] 'Oh, no! It's 'She-Ra'! Better watch out, she might glow and blind us with her tiara!'
[There goes her tail again, smacking helpfully into Adora's dumb face.]
Seriously, do I have to do everything for you? Give me two seconds and I'll come up with something better.
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It's not a codename. And I didn't choose it. [ She considers going with the sword told me, but Catra already doesn't trust that thing, and Adora kind of needs it. So, again, she's as truthful as she can be, given the circumstances. ] There was a ruin in the Whispering Woods, with a picture of a woman who looked like me. Not... me-me, but this me. It said her name was She-Ra. Apparently, she's some ancient warrior from a thousand years ago.
[ With a sigh, she hands the pumpkin off to Catra, oblivious to what a mistake that might be. ]
Look, it's been a long day. I can explain later [ when she's had time to come up with better lies ], but right now, we need to focus on more important things. I mean, there's no sign of the Rebellion or the Horde here. Don't you think that's weird?
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Oh, so now you want to talk about your kidnapping? [That ship's sailed. And Adora's basically a glorified climbing frame at this point, as Catra balances the angry lantern on her hip with one arm and uses her other hand to grab Adora's hair and tug, trying to yank her head back so she can squint at her eyes.] Too late for that. First you gotta tell me something: since when do you wander around ruins on your own?
[She'll bet anything the sword told her to do it.]
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Her eyes narrow with an annoyed grunt at Catra's mistreatment of her hair, but she only hesitates a few seconds before answering. ]
I was lost, okay? Don't you remember our survival training? Shelter is the most important thing to look for in a hostile environment. [ Which the Whispering Woods definitely qualifies as. ] I left because I needed to find food. I should have packed ration bars, but I didn't plan on being away for that long.
[ She meant it when she said I'll be back before anyone knows I'm gone. Things just... didn't work out that way. ]
Sword, tiara, ruins, Thaymor. And then— here, I guess. That's everything. [ Lol. ] Now will you please let go of my hair?
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Nuh-uh, I'm not finished yet. [Also, Adora's hair is really soft and smooth and nice to touch. Catra's gonna tug it again, because she can.] I wanna know what your whole deal was when I caught up to you. You were acting weird, Adora. Why were you trying to blame me for stuff?
[Clearly, that's the most prominent issue.]
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Because...
[ Because we've been enemies for a year. Because you tried to kill me, and my friends. Because I think you hate me, even if I don't know why, and it breaks my heart. ]
... because I didn't know if Shadow Weaver was messing with me. If she knew about the sword, and what I was doing, somehow. She's always been in my head, so I just... freaked out a bit.
[ It's an easy lie, because it's not really a lie at all. Just... a version of the truth that leaves out a few (or a lot of) details. She had suspected Shadow Weaver when she first woke up, and even if Catra didn't hear the same voice in her head, she knows what it's like to live in fear of the older woman; far more than Adora ever will. ]
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like that. [ She tries to smile, but her mouth doesn't manage more than an upwards twitch at the corners. ] Besides, if Shadow Weaver wanted me back, she'd at least pretend to be nice about it. I don't think she could act like you, even if she tried.
[ You were nothing before I took you in still echoes in her mind, but Shadow Weaver was wrong. Adora has She-Ra now. She matters. And, it turns out, Catra being mean has advantages sometimes. ]
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But the explanation of fearing Shadow Weaver... it does make sense. Adora always has taken her more seriously than Catra, and even Catra still finds her legs locking and her heart jumping into her throat when shadows grow around her. For Adora, who thinks Shadow Weaver is way stronger than she actually is, being on the other side of her power must be pretty intimidating.
Catra's eyes crinkle with pride at the veiled insult, but it's all she can muster when Adora's like this, and they soften again before long.]
You really want to get away from her, huh? [Still such a weird concept, but one that's a bit more believable now. And with her acceptance of this supposed truth, Catra loosens her hold on Adora's hair; just barely resisting the urge to card her fingers through it.]
Look... [It's easier to be earnest with Adora than with anyone else, but it's still awkward. 'Earnest' isn't something Catra does often, or well. Bravado, on the other hand...] I know every one of her tricks. --She's really not that great at coming up with anything new. [Probably because she's stuck with whatever power Hordak deigns to give her, but that's not Catra's issue. What is her issue is her best friend, whose voice sounds thick again and whose eyes are all watery, and who Catra's trying to reassure despite being crouched on her shoulders and looking down at her with a very angry lantern under one arm.] I'll spot her stuff coming from a mile away, so as long as we stick together, you'll be fine. She won't get a single chance to screw with you again.
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She's still dangerous, Catra. Don't get too cocky. [ She scolds, but there's a tiny smile accompanying it; soft and fond. Catra might not remember giving her back the sword, but Adora has at least one reason to trust her when it comes to Shadow Weaver. ] You're the one who said she'd come after us. We both need to stay on our guard.
[ Not just against her, either. Back in the Crystal Castle, Catra said Shadow Weaver had bigger problems to worry about, which Adora took as a sign of Hordak's involvement in things. She's never seen him take the field, but his position and the occasional hushed whispers among the other cadets are enough to know facing him head-on would probably be a bad idea. If he shows up... she hopes She-Ra will be enough to protect everyone, no matter the cost to herself.
Her hand seeks out Catra's tail, running along the length of it in one smooth, gentle stroke; thanking her for the reassurance. Then, after a quick sniff to clear her throat, she's back to raising a playful eyebrow at her best friend. ]
Are you ever gonna get down from there? She-Ra is supposed to be an [ in an overly dramatic voice: ] ancient warrior Princess. I'm pretty sure using her as a surveillance post is against the rules.
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[She's not directly responsible for her tail brushing Adora's gold-covered wrist as her hand leaves it, pleasant tingles still echoing in her wake. It's not something she'll let Adora get away with often, especially out in the open like this, but -- this time, she'll allow it.]
What rules? [Which means no, she's not getting down. In fact, solely because Adora's mentioned it, Catra's shifting again; curling her toes to dig in for balance and pressing her empty hand indecorously against the side of Adora's head as she moves to sit on one of her shoulders, facing opposite to her so she can lean back smugly to look at her. Mostly to see if she can. And she's scoffing derisively as she moves, briefly resting the grotesque lantern on Adora's head as she adjusts.] Pretty sure whoever went around naming an ancient warrior [those two words are accompanied by airquotes] 'She-Ra' didn't exactly have that much in mind for her. We can do whatever we want.
[More like whatever Catra wants. It's the same thing, really.]
Besides, I thought you wanted to talk about how you got yourself kidnapped here.
[Apparently, that's not a conversation that can possibly happen if Catra's on the ground.]
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[ ... No, it is. But Adora's heard enough people say She-Ra in awe-inspired tones that she's come to like the sound of it, and while she knows better than to expect any reverence from Catra (and wouldn't want to be treated any differently by her, besides), she still feels defensive. Not something she ever thought she'd be of a title other than Force Captain. ]
Mostly, I wanna focus on getting out of here. We can talk about the rest later. [ Or never! Never is fine too. She walks over to where her sword still glows in the fog; squatting down to pick it up without unseating Catra from her shoulder. ] I don't even know what direction we came from. We'll just have to pick one and start walking.
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Of course Adora's picked up the sword again. She's addicted to the stupid thing, and Catra slides off of Adora's shoulder, skimming down her back to land lightly on the ground.]
I'll take point. [She doesn't trust where that sword might tell Adora to lead them. She says it presumptuously, easy confidence back in Catra's voice and all traces of her scowl disappeared. The curl of her tail as it slips by Adora's elbow is deliberately casual this time as she steps past her to, as she just said, take the lead on this expedition.] Since you clearly have no idea where you're going.
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With Catra on the ground again, there's no reason to keep being She-Ra. Adora allows her transformation to drop; a flash of light behind Catra accompanying the release of magic. They might need her strength later, and Catra doesn't seem bothered by her anymore, which Adora is calling mission accomplished. ]
Oh, I can't wait to see how you handle this. [ Rude, Adora. ] Admit it. You don't know any more than I do.
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It's true, of course, that Catra has absolutely no more information than Adora. That's an irrelevant fact, and Catra's going to disregard it with a flippant wave of her hand.]
I'm not gonna get distracted by some sword on the ground. [Catra totally would've gone for it first if she'd seen it, but -- shh. She has the higher ground on this one, and she's going to use it.
But her hand pauses in the air, her eyes narrowing critically as she takes in Adora's face. Rounded cheekbones, check. Strong jaw, check. Grey eyes, check. Normal, taut blonde ponytail and poof -- check.
...And no traces of the lantern guts Catra had smeared on them. Which is insulting, given that Catra's fur is stiffened and sticky with the stuff. As casual as she'd been with She-Ra, the way Catra handles Adora - grabbing her shoulder and holding her in place while she steps a quick and offended circle of observation around her - is ease born from a lifetime of familiarity.
And so is the way she gets up in her face immediately after.]
Where'd all the orange stuff go? [She says it like it's an accusation. Which it is, really. How is the process of cleaning out Catra's fur supposed to be any bit redeemed if Adora's not scrubbing orange stains out of her skin next to her?] Don't tell me you magicked it away!
[--She will believe in Adora's magic powers only when it suits her.]
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At the accusation, she just laughs, grinning as she crosses her (clean) arms over her (also clean) chest. ]
Wow. Did I do that? [ As if she didn't know already. ] Guess it's another part of my special Princess powers. Thanks for helping me figure those out, Catra.
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(Later, when they're getting ready for bed, she'll wonder how she hasn't noticed how much Adora's filled out lately. But, then, they spend every day together. It's probably just the day apart that's refreshed Catra's eyes, and made her aware of the extra effort Adora must've been putting into her training.)
It's the folding of Adora's arms that draws Catra's attention down to her clean jacket, and the glint of gold at her waist. Curiosity overtakes annoyance for a second, her ears perking forward; and then Catra gets to relieve both emotions, shoving her lantern roughly and suddenly into Adora, counting on her reflexes to automatically grab for it. Which should leave Catra free to reach down and quickly swipe the buckle that should have been stamped with the Horde's symbol but isn't.
If the rest of Adora's belt comes with it, well, Catra can live with that. And if her shove is hard enough that Adora stumbles backwards and slips on the guts of the pumpkin she'd stomped on, that's all the better.]
What the heck is this? [She's holding it up and squinting at it. It looks like -- a wing?] Where did you even get it? [and then, reproachfully:] You didn't pick this up in the Woods too, did you?
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[ ... Is not something that exists between them, and Adora knows it. Arrogance turns to annoyance when Catra robs her of the buckle (and her belt along with it), but Adora doesn't bother trying to stop her; only shooting her a reproachful look as she grips the lantern with both hands. ]
... Seriously? It's just a belt buckle. [ There's no 'just' about it — her lack of reaction is a dead giveaway that she already knew about the change, when the soldier thing to do would be to immediately check every inch of herself for other oddities. She's stalling, because as much as the Whispering Woods are a bad excuse to keep falling back on, it's not like she has a better one. Unless... ] It was in my hand when I woke up, and I wasn't going back to the Horde, so... I got rid of my old one. To blend in. There's nothing wrong with it, is there?
[ Don't get defensive. Don't get defensive. ]
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...Huh. [She's buying it, though. It's a story that's easy to believe only because Catra had a badge in her hand earlier, and absolutely no idea how it got there.]
It's fine, I guess. I just didn't expect you to ditch everything so quickly. [It's kind of unnerving, and both totally like and unlike her. Once Adora has her mind set on something, it's always full steam ahead and nothing can stop her -- but it generally takes a while before she hits that stride. It really raises the question: just how long has she been dying to get out of the Horde, and why didn't she say anything about it any of the (numerous!!!) times Catra complained?
Well. Whatever. There's a moment of pause when Catra looks down at her own belt, the red of the Horde's logo staring back up at her, and she's surprised to find herself feeling -- indecisive about it.
It's stupid. There's nothing there for her. Everything she ever cared about in the Fright Zone is here, standing right behind her. She shouldn't have any problem doing what Adora's done, and just... throw the buckle away.
Instead, she's biting her lip, her tail curling hesitantly near her leg. The Fright Zone's a terrible place, but -- it's home. And Shadow Weaver might be a terrible person, but she's still...
...she's something.
Maybe saying that everything she's ever cared about is right behind her isn't the correct way of putting it. It's probably more accurate to say that it's the only person who's ever cared about her that's here.]
We're really not going back?
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She'd thought that all of them, every single Horde soldier, had to be either blind to the truth, like her, or serving Hordak out of malice alone, with no room for shades of grey. If not one, then it had to be the other, and at Thaymor, Catra chose the latter. She hadn't understood, then, that the Horde had already hurt Catra, long before Adora did. That she stayed, knowingly, not because she was evil, but because she had nowhere else to go, and maybe that wouldn't have been enough to keep her there either, if not for Adora.
Adora, who left the moment she could, without looking back. Adora, who made her feel second best, who let Shadow Weaver hurt her when she took the fall. She asked Catra to follow her so many times, but it only made Catra hate her more, because she didn't ask when it mattered most. Didn't understand that it mattered at all, until it was too late, and they were staring at each other through the rubble and smoke of blown-apart homes, stuck on opposites sides of a war neither of them were supposed to care about more than each other.
She's never going to make that mistake again. Etheria comes first, but she's not sacrificing Catra for it, no matter what Light Hope says her destiny is. ]
We're really not going back. [ She puts her hand on Catra's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. ] If anything happens... if we don't make it to the Rebellion before the Horde catches up with us... run. Just get somewhere safe, and don't look back for me. I'll hold them off.
[ For Glimmer's sake, she strode into the heart of the Fright Zone and gave herself up to Shadow Weaver. As terrified as she is of the sorceress, she'd do the same for Catra — this Catra, the one who looks so small and unsure of herself, wholly different from the Force Captain who wanted to destroy She-Ra in front of her friends, in front of everything she loved, including the person doing it — in a heartbeat. If She-Ra can't even do that much, can't save one person, then what good is she? What good is Adora? ]
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