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pedalbike2020-10-16 08:19 pm
upcyclingmod) wrote in pedalbike2020-10-16 08:19 pm
Entry tags:
Third TDM: Don't Turn Around
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.
Braving the Trail
A new trail has opened up in the woods today! Funny, that there’s never been a real path before, but this one promises a spectacular view for all Wickies who brave it.
However, the view has to be earned with one stipulation: until the Wickie reaches the trail’s end, they are forbidden to turn around. At all. There’s no mention of what may happen if the Wickie does glance back, but the scripted text on the sign marking the trail hints that the consequences just might be dire.
The hike itself is fairly easy. It even feels peaceful with the sounds of bird calls echoing in the distance. But for Wickies who are known for past procrastination, the walk will prove to be difficult. These individuals will experience an itching urge to turn around and leave the trail, and the itch worsens with every pause of their footsteps.
If a Wickie does turn around, they will find themselves staring up at a blank masked figure, slightly taller than themselves. And as wisps of fog cover the packed-dirt path, the figure hisses out a sigh, their voice barely audible as they issue their reprimand:
“I’m disappointed.”
Why, it’s not clear at all.
But with those words, the Wickie will find their body locked into place, unable to scream as their limbs become paralyzed, their eyes remaining fixed upon the masked figure. Somehow, the figure moves without walking, inching closer and closer until their mask and the Wickie’s face are close enough to touch.
The only way to become unlocked from this position is to have someone come and cover the Wickie’s eyes before leading them back to the trail’s start, somehow breaking their vision of the masked figure, or by speaking of a past regret outloud.
Otherwise, the Wickie has a good chance of dying from exposure.
Currently residing
It’s been nearly three months since the first arrivals started off on the island. It’s had its ups and downs, but with the previous quiet month, it’s been easy to relax in the cottages and houses, and even feel safe.
But not everything stays as it should. Whether a Wickie is just scoping the houses out, or returning to sleep in one of those comfy beds during the night, they will find that things are just a little..off. It’s as if someone has moved everything just a little, by no more than an inch or two. Sometimes, it even looks as if someone hurried away from the middle of a task. For example, mugs left in the sink will be washed; unslept in beds have been stripped, and their sheets are found in the laundry.
It’s only after sitting down with a fellow Wickie, that what’s going on will slowly become apparent.
People, looking more like blue tinted holographic designs, appear within the house. Slowly they become more visible, going through the motions of daily life. People with their significant others, children playing, even pets can be seen, playing with their owners or doing things that pets do.
These residentials don’t seem to notice the newcomers in their surroundings. But they do notice objects are moved, particularly if it’s furnishings. They frown, confused, before talking to one another and seeing the items returned to where they believe it should be. And curious too, that while the residentials appear to speak to one another, there’s not a sound that’s uttered when their mouths move.
It’s not possible to interact with them, unless the Wickie has the spiritual power to speak with spirits. Even then they’re quite confused, and do not believe themselves dead- it’s as if they think the Wickie is the ghost instead.
It is possible to deter the residentials manifesting by lighting a candlek. Upon the candle being lit, they recoil, some of them violently, and with great upset, before fading.
But they weren’t causing any harm.
Are they?
It Arrives
The pumpkins have vanished (finally!) there’s no more costumes in the various drawers in town; the apple bobbing is done, and there’s no more bonfires. Pity that means the food is gone too.
But something else has arrived. Something...small, white, and with webbed feet.
You’ll know it by its sound. It’s unknown what has brought this particular goose to the island; it might have been a laden desire, or it had flown here over miles. Or who knows, maybe the Admin has set this goose out as some kind of petty revenge.
All that is known as that this goose likes to wreak havoc. It likes going into the flower and vegetable gardens, looking for seeds, vegetables, and flowers to pull up; it likes to grab keys and toss them just out of reach.
It’s also clever enough that it figured out how to get into Fruits Basket, into homes, and even...sometimes...onto roofs.
Thankfully, while the goose likes to startle people, its mischief is rather harmless, and even, at times, enjoyable to watch. Just be sure not to leave anything electrical it can throw into a body of water by accident- or any bells it can keep in its temporary home by the woods.
For those who are curious, yes it will accept all sorts of snacks, and it is a wild, ordinary goose. (So yes, it is as harmless as a normal goose and yes it is edible).
Confession network
Yet again, the phone goes off. Doesn’t look like it’s anybody in town, but it’s that weird, cheesy app called The Heart Game. And it’s persistent, too: it doesn’t want to be ignored, making a series of beeps and chirps, much like a pet that wants attention.
The message that pops up is as follows:
We’re back! It’s the time for everyone's favorite game- Confession! So beloved users, our question is:
If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? Why? Tell us everything!
Shadow Weaver | She-Ra
I. Arrival
[The woman arrives in a flash of fire, in the middle of the street. Or the fire arrives with her, from the singing of her clothing, but flickers out before it can fully catch. She's exhausted, and in pain, and collapses in a heap after a moment of dazed staggering.]
[All she can do is groan, not aware enough to process the spinning world around her.]
II. Arrival (of something else)
And what did those flowers do to you, useless creature?
[Even in different world, a garden was a garden. There was too much to dwell on, too much unanswered, and Shadow Weaver wasn't ready to be alone with her thoughts just yet.]
[She'd found bandages in the clinic, and wrapped them around her face mummy-style until she could find something more suitable; her eyes were off, to anyone that was looking, her pupils not unlike an upside down Y.]
[But for now, those eyes were narrowed down at the offending goose, its wings slightly flared as it stared back, uprooted daises in its mouth. The woman sighs, picking up a rake to shoo the beast away with.] Count yourself lucky that this is the only retribution I can care to muster.
III. Wildcard
[I'm down for any other prompts, go right ahead.]
i
So no, Shadow Weaver being here isn't a surprise. It's her state that is. Ragged, maskless, weak, as if the journey took everything out of her to make. Maybe it's a trick, but Shadow Weaver letting herself look vulnerable goes against everything Adora knows about her, and when she sees her face (her real one, the first time she's had more than a terrified glimpse of it), she feels her gut clench. Shadow Weaver is here, in pain, and that part shouldn't be Adora's problem but it is, and before long she's scooping her into She-Ra's arms, trying not to exacerbate any injuries she can't see on the sorceress. ]
I'm taking you to the clinic. [ She hopes Shadow Weaver is too out of it to notice the faint trace of concern in her voice. ] Don't make me regret this, Shadow Weaver. If you try anything, I won't give you another chance.
[ Hours later, after she's gotten in contact with Catra — Shadow Weaver's here, and she's hurt. Really hurt. We're at the clinic, but be careful. — and the two of them have done what they can to patch her up, by... wrapping bandages all over her body, attempting healing with She-Ra, and arguing over their next course of action, Adora sits by her bedside, waiting for Shadow Weaver to regain consciousness. At the first sign of it, she hisses to Catra: ]
She's waking up. [ Then, she turns her attention back to Shadow Weaver. ] I think we both have some questions for you.
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That's just one of the many things that Catra's annoyed about right now. When she folds her arms and glowers, it's only about... 20% Shadow Weaver's fault. And that's just because a lot of the remaining 80% (which is entirely Adora) wouldn't be a thing without her laying limp and weak and maskless on the cot in front of them.
(At least the bandages they both sloppily and hurriedly wrapped her face in are... something of a replacement for her missing mask. Shadow Weaver's face did not get any better in the years since Catra last saw it, and morbid curiosity only held out for so long before she and Adora were arguing over whose job it was to cover her up.)
That wasn't the only thing they'd argued over, either. Adora shouldn't have brought Shadow Weaver to the clinic by herself; she should've called Catra the second she found her, and they should have decided how to handle her together. But that's typical of Adora. For all her talk of freedom and leaving the Horde behind, she's still so quick to slide herself back under Shadow Weaver's thumb. She'd probably wanted to fix her up herself, so she could take all the credit for helping her out.
Catra hasn't addressed her real worry, which is that Adora's reconsidering her bid for defection now that Shadow Weaver is actually here -- but it's what's driving the agitated moves of her tail. It's not going to take long at all for their mentor to notice that Catra's removed the Horde buckle from her belt, or that Adora's replaced hers with a golden pin and ditched her once-prized Force Captain's badge. Catra's going to find out very soon whether Adora's just been a whole lot of talk this entire time, or if she'd actually meant all the things she'd said about leaving.
And Catra can't ask outright what happened; that's too close to caring about it, and while she was worried for a while there... now that Shadow Weaver seems to be stirring, it's just become kind of hilarious that she was evidently playing with fire and losing. Which means it's time for some of that careless, disrespectful humor both of them so love to hear from her.]
Came in a little hot there, huh, Shadow Weaver?
[Besides, she doesn't have any questions like Adora apparently does. What's there to even ask about, really: they both know why she's here.]
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[She'd put everything into that last spell, every scrap of magic left in her entire being. That alone should have killed her, to say nothing of the blast itself.]
[But life was full of disappointments, and so Shadow Weaver found herself stirring to painful wakefulness - and a series of statements she quite frankly did not have the will to deal with. Would that she could snap something back, about them not running or about the Heart or if Adora had healed her from the verge of death again... But all Shadow Weaver could muster was to turn her head to the voices.]
[And stare.]
[Nothing looked off about Adora, but... Catra...]
[Ah. She was dead, after all, and this was hell. ]
Surely, your questions can wait, Adora. [Her speech isn't as strong or fluid as she would have liked, but it was a feat she could speak at all with the dark spots still haunting the edges of her vision. She settles her head back against the cot. Maybe if she ignored them, this would all go away.]
[She was certainly ignoring Catra.]
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But then, neither is Shadow Weaver, apparently. Her expression hardens again, and she lets out a deep breath, trying to control her frustration. She won't let Shadow Weaver get the better of her. Not this time. ]
No. They really can't.
[ She's still not used to being openly defiant with Shadow Weaver, and her eyes instinctively flick to Catra for reassurance, the same way she'd have sought out Bow or Glimmer back in Bright Moon. Looking for approval that she's doing the right thing, even if she knows she is. ]
How did you find us? Is the Horde still tracking Catra? [ She doesn't mean to imply that Catra might be the problem, but... well. ] Because she's not going back. Neither of us are.
[ There's a lot more she has to say, but looking at Shadow Weaver, listening to her struggle to speak, Adora hesitates. Besides Hordak himself, Shadow Weaver is probably the last person she'd ever expect to defect from the Horde, but... what if? What if something changed after the Battle of Bright Moon, after whatever made Catra forget? What if something happened to Shadow Weaver, too? ]
... Did Hordak punish you? For Catra... I mean, us, leaving. [ She can't let slip how long it's been for her, not with Catra in the same room. She can't mention Bright Moon; has to pretend she's only been gone a day longer than Catra, not a year. ] If something happened, you need to tell us. We'll [ said with a pointed emphasis, Catra ] at least hear you out.
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Adora gets a roll of Catra's eyes and an unhappy shrug when she silently scolds her, but it honestly doesn't matter what Catra does - because as soon as Shadow Weaver's creepy eyes open, it's like Catra may as well not exist. Adora's the only one Shadow Weaver cares to talk to, as ever, and Adora's only too happy to keep that focus: forcing Shadow Weaver's attention onto herself, taking lead of the interrogation like she always does.
She's stewing in that bitterness, compounded by the assertion that it's her fault Shadow Weaver found them, when Adora suggests that Hordak might have done this... and Catra's ears perk slightly. It hadn't occurred to her that this might be the aftermath of those consequences Shadow Weaver had mentioned, and -- Catra refuses to feel bad about it. Better Shadow Weaver than her, right?
But it's enough to keep her from reigniting the argument about whether or not they should listen to her.]
Just don't get any ideas about wasting our time. [Doesn't Catra sound so enthused.] We'll know if you're lying to us.
[-----Or, well, Catra will.]
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[Instead, Shadow Weaver forces the gears of her mind to turn, processing each of the (far too many) questions. This wasn't the Horde's infirmary. The glimpse of the room hadn't looked like anywhere else on Etheria, either. Adora stumbled. They're on the run, and think they're followed, and that Hordak is sit in the picture. Even Catra's inexplicable appearance aside, something was so very off. Better to find out what, first. She needed to take control of the conversation.]
[She's quite for so long, it almost seemed like she wasn't going to answer before Shadow Weaver finally speaks.]
You found me, did you not? [And then, her senses entirely catch up to her. Shadow Weaver's hand jolts up to her face, but pauses at the feel at the sloppy bandages over her face. There's an awkward beat of silence before she folds her hands over her middle as if to sleep, as if she had never startled.] Where have you taken me?
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... The clinic. You were hurt, and I— I freaked out, okay? [ She shouldn't be admitting that in front of Shadow Weaver, but she's still trying to defend her actions to Catra, after their earlier argument. It wasn't like Adora purposely excluded her; she just... acted without thinking, the same way she so often does. ] I needed a place with a bed, and medical supplies, where we could both keep an eye on you.
[ What else was she supposed to do, take Shadow Weaver to their house? Haha, no. Even with all the other things wrong with that idea, she's not about to put Tsuruno in any kind of danger from the other woman. Or put anyone else in danger, for that matter. She'd justified bringing her here alone to Catra the same way, or tried to, but without a whole lot of success. (Probably because, yet again, she completely dismissed the actual problem Catra had with her actions, in favour of her own assumptions.) ]
Now answer the question. [ She's asked a lot of them, but she can sum it all up into one. ] Why are you here, Shadow Weaver? Or do you expect us to believe this is all one big misunderstanding? That you just so happened to show up in the same place as us, right after we left the Horde?
[ Sorry, Catra, she's speaking for you again. ]
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Shadow Weaver's extended silence drags on long enough for Catra's tail to take up a slow twitch of irritation, impatience grinding away at her.
Despite her frustration, Catra does make to exchange an uncomfortable look with her best friend when Shadow Weaver's hand flies up to her face; her shoulders tensing in expectation of being called out on their slapdash job and the missing mask. But whatever Shadow Weaver thinks of it, it seems to be good enough for her to settle back down in repose - which is in and of itself disturbing to see. Catra's pretty sure she's never seen Shadow Weaver so much as sit before, and for the longest time she'd been convinced the sorceress didn't even have feet. Surely something as normal as laying down was beyond her.
But it's not. With all the floating around and crackling magic and creeping shadows gone, Shadow Weaver's just another person. And with that realization comes another: that Adora is way over-reacting. So what if Shadow Weaver tracked them down? She can't do anything about it. Not while she's like this.
It's a small room, and it only takes a step or two before Catra's standing behind Adora's chair, forcing herself into Shadow Weaver's view. She refuses to be ignored.]
Forget that, we know why you're here. [Because she's been tracking them, or watching them, or something, and she knows Adora's chosen defection and convinced Catra to go with her. They'd known it was only a matter of time before they'd have to deal with her, in one way or another; and Catra really has no idea why Adora seems so surprised.] I don't know what you thought was gonna happen. I told you I wasn't bringing her back.
[So, like -- this is Shadow Weaver's own fault. Catra never exactly had a great record for obedience - Shadow Weaver should've been prepared for this from the moment Catra sneered her refusal.]
And now Hordak's cut you off, right? 'cause you somehow managed to lose both of us? [And, potentially, an entire squadron. Catra still doesn't know where the heck they all went.] Bet it's not too good a look when you can't even get a couple of your own soldiers to stick around.
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[And they're still both talking as if they were years younger. As if nothing happened. All the progress they had made, gone. As if they were still her wards, and Prime wasn't—]
[Was this his doing? Or another strange splintering of reality?]
[Whatever it is, with the accusation in their voice, they wouldn't believe her even if she bothered to try to explain it. Best to play into their expectations for the time being.]
You actually believe that Hordak cares so much about a single pair of cadets? The world does not revolve around you.
[Except that Etheria figuratively did revolve around Adora (around She-Ra), but. Details. Shadow Weaver waves a hand lazily, dismissively.] If I know not where I am, do you really think I'd be so concerned with where you two are loitering about?
Again. Where have you taken me? This is clearly not the Horde—or a number of other locations around Etheria.
[The experience of age had its advantages. The decor was... odd. Or the lack of it. With how dilapidated it is, Shadow Weaver was more surprised it wasn't the Horde.]
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You're right. It's not.
[ She doesn't tell her about the stars. About the fact that they're not on Etheria at all — as impossible as that seems — but somewhere wholly different. Shadow Weaver will figure it out herself the moment she steps outside, but for now, Adora lets the ambiguity hang like a threat. ]
But we didn't do anything. Trust me, the last thing either of us wanted was to see your face again. [ Literally, and she winces at the reminder. She never thought she'd miss Shadow Weaver's creepy, emotionless mask, but boy, does she ever. ] You want She-Ra, don't you? That's what this is all about. You just can't stand the idea of someone else being more powerful than you.
[ Arrogance getting the better of logic, she draws the sword from her back, holding it up in front of her. For a moment, she forgets all about Catra, and her carefully constructed lies. Forgets that no one in the Horde should have made the connection between She-Ra and Adora so soon after her defection, before any of them had witnessed her transformation at Thaymor. All she cares about is proving what Shadow Weaver said wrong; that she (or at least, She-Ra) does matter to the Horde, and to her. ]
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But she does care. Catra knows she does. She'd made it perfectly clear to Catra how important she'd considered it that Adora be brought home, and her blithe claim to now be unconcerned with what they've been doing hits Catra in a dozen different places.
Why'd you make me go out then?! she wants to snap, frustrated and confused. What was the point?!
She doesn't get to, because Adora cuts her off, and Catra's never wanted to throw something across a room as much as she does that sword. Shadow Weaver doesn't even know who She-Ra is; all Adora's doing is making sure that she's leaving plenty of questions for Shadow Weaver to ask, because she can't stand that Shadow Weaver's focused on something that doesn't have anything to do with her.
She tries to enjoy Adora's goading -- this is something that Catra never would've thought she'd see, Adora standing up to and insulting Shadow Weaver -- but her mood's been soured too far to really appreciate it. So she's left glowering in the blue light, her narrowed eyes focused on Adora's sword for a moment too long before re-settling onto their mentor. Whatever Catra's opinions on it, she won't start a fight with Adora in front of Shadow Weaver. (As soon as they leave this building, however--)]
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[The sword, their defection... It all felt so long ago, despite being a few measly years. The runestone in the artifact called to her senses, but she couldn't spare it thought just yet. Always so emotional, these two. This will be easy.]
Adora... [Her voice pitches into that familiar patronizing coo, and with no small effort, she pushes herself up to sit, eyes narrowed at the sword. ] I raised you far better than this. You make claims of defection, yet come to me. You speak of nonsense legends and present me with an artifact radiating magic, yet claim to keep it from me. And "keeping an eye on me", as if I were your prisoner... Why, you've told me so much already.
You're disoriented and confused; you are not the one I expect this kind of sloppiness from.
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She clenches her teeth, grip tightening around the sword. Catra might as well not even exist right now, with the way she's laser-focused on the woman in front of her. ]
You're lying. I'm not confused, and She-Ra isn't some nonsense legend. She's real.
[ She's everything people say about her, even if Adora isn't yet. Even if she's still trying to live up to those same legends. ]
And you are my prisoner. [ A too-long pause. ] Our prisoner. So stop thinking I'm going to fall for your games. We're past that, and you're not getting out of here until you realize who's in charge now.
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--Catra just wants her Adora back.
She's still torn, not wanting to gamble her new freedom. But when Adora slips up, claiming Shadow Weaver as her prisoner, Catra's decision is made in the same snap as her razor-thin patience.
Adora's not even pretending to care about what Catra's doing, so Catra makes no effort whatsoever to add any effects to this. She doesn't draw out her phone, she doesn't pretend to read a message. Her tail continues to lash with obvious pent-up irritation, not that Adora's going to notice, and there's an edge to Catra's tone as she lies so blatantly.]
Hey, Adora. [Literally not budging even the slightest bit to make this more believable. Maybe Catra wants Adora to call her out, to prove she's paying enough attention to her to catch something that's so obviously false.] Looks like something's happening over at the Woods. You better go help them out. [even if Catra said 'we', Adora would tell her to stay behind - and Catra's not letting that embarrassment happen in front of Shadow Weaver.
It's mostly just a way of trying to make it look like she has more agency than she does, when Catra adds:] I'll handle things here.
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[And the soul-deep exhaustion gnawing at every fiber of her being, that too.]
[Her eyes flick up to Catra, glad the haphazard bandages hid the unimpressed arch of her brow. Really? Adora could be... gullible, but that wasn't even trying--]
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I'm a little busy, Catra— [ Then the rest of it sinks in, and Adora whips her head around to look at her, without a single trace of disbelief in her gaze. She doesn't check her own phone, doesn't do anything except almost stumble over herself in her haste to stand, eyes flicking between Catra and the door. ] —Wait, right now? But I— I can't leave you alone with Shadow Weaver.
[ Not because she doesn't trust Catra (she thinks), but because she can't trust Shadow Weaver (she knows). Because she remembers what happened the last time she left Catra to deal with the other woman alone... or rather, the consequences of it. But Catra's asking, telling, her to go, not stay, and Adora — well, she chose the fate of strangers over Catra once before. The fact Catra seems okay with it doesn't change her mind, only makes the decision come easier. ]
... No, you're right. I need to go. [ To Shadow Weaver: ] This isn't over. If you lay a single finger on her, you'll regret it. Actually, just... don't talk at all until I get back. Catra's not going to believe you, anyway.
[ She doesn't wait for confirmation from either of them. She's out the door with sword in hand, and a For the honor of Grayskull! echoing in the distance; faint traces of her transformation's light illuminating the doorway. Clock's ticking. ]
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In any case, Catra's point is made when Adora buys it. She's got enough faith left in Catra to not even bother checking her own phone or questioning the source of Catra's information, but not enough to spare her the humiliation of belittling her right in front of Shadow Weaver. Maybe Catra should be relieved that such a bad lie worked, but she's not. She actually feels kind of dejected, a sickening sort of feeling that curdles beneath her frustration and bristling fur, and Catra tries to ignore how it feels when that stupid phrase and traces of light flash through the doorway.
(Because she kind of resents Adora for them. Like, a lot.)
But the second Adora's gone, Catra's claws scrape in to the back of the chair her best friend had been sitting in. You are not the one I expect this kind of sloppiness from, Shadow Weaver had said to Adora; and Catra knows full well that the insult is a barb at her. So she's more determined than ever to do this right, to prove that she's more capable than either of them think. She'll find out how to break the sword's hold on Adora without risking their freedom and without giving anything else away, and she'll do it in the short amount of time they've got before Adora comes charging back.]
What do you know about that sword? [She's using the same stubbornly hard tone that Adora was, not that Catra will admit that.] You said something about a legend. What is it?
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[But Shadow Weaver simply watches, her eyes narrowing a little as she tilts her head - and if her hair happens to partially fall across her face to veil it, she wasn't moving it. ]
My, that was quick. [Barb aside... ] I know that sword harbors significant magical power. There are ancient legends of a warrior by that name in the age of the First Ones, never to be seen since.
How long has she been comfortable with the tool of a princess, Catra?
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She doesn't answer Shadow Weaver's question, but the backwards flick of Catra's ears is decidedly uncomfortable, and she looks away for a moment as uncertainty crosses her face. She's still young, this Catra, and she hasn't yet had to master control over herself; her doubt written all over her before she shakes her head. Just because Shadow Weaver's confirmed it - that the sword really is a Princess' weapon - doesn't mean Adora is one. She's just -- using it, that's all.]
I'm asking the questions here. [The confidence in her assertion is stubborn, and a little bit awkward with how hard she pushes it.] What're the First Ones? And how do you know anything about them?
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[Their prisoner, they call her. As if they could really stop her from leaving, had Shadow Weaver thought she could walk farther than 50ft without collapsing; she wasn't even restrained.]
[Another expense of effort has Shadow Weaver moving to the edge of the bed leaning forward a little. Her voice... doesn't exactly turn gentle, but something closer to it.]
Catra, how long? I can't address the problem if you do not tell me. What's really going on here?
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II
Oh noooo your poor garden! Shoo, shoo, Goose-chan!
[ The girl motions her arms to help encourage the bird to go away which only gets an angry HONK! in response. With that Rena sighs and tries to pick up some of the flowers to help. She's no gardener, but she does love flowers. ]
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[She was too busy being past the point of caring.]
The garden is not mine, I must admit. I simply happened upon it. I see you do not know who tends it.
II
Probably the person who's snorting and making no move to help. Catra's just here to do a drive-by check on the seeds she had to plant to make her pumpkin stalkers disappear, but hey -- looks like she's finding free entertainment while she's here.]
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[There's an edge of dread to her indignation, too, like she's teetering on the edge of Catra realizing something she really couldn't hide. ]
Loitering uselessly as usual? [She doesn't even spare a look her way.]