Chapter Text
[Simulation: In which Catra follows Glimmer into the storeroom after dinner, 27/8/1002. Basically, the evening of Teleport III]
"You'd better not be giving Adora shit for caring about me."
Glimmer spins around.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean what I said. If Adora wants to make sure I'm OK, which I am so don't you start, that's got nothing to do with you."
"Or what? I have a right to tell Adora she's being ridiculous. Her fault if she takes it personally."
"Well, you're a nosy asshole, and it's your fault if you take that personally."
Catra turns to leave as Glimmer says, "Oh, wow, that's real classy. No wonder Adora likes you."
Catra turns back around.
"Believe it or not, Adora has a life outside of you and your stupid fucking Rebellion. Eighteen years of it."
"Eighteen years of abuse, and you did bugger all to help. You'd think she'd have had enough of being locked up somewhere with you."
"Locked up?! Adora's choosing to stay with me! You think I have the capacity to keep her anywhere?"
Catra realises what she has just said. Glimmer does not.
"Well, you could have fooled me! Anyway, I'm getting out bread for tomorrow's breakfast, so if you'd let me do that, that would be great. See you tomorrow. Or not. Whatever."
"If you're rude to Adora again-"
"Yeah, yeah, I won't live to regret it, I get the picture. Good night."
[Simulation: In which the chip removal gives Catra a CSF leak. Really boring (she just has an excruciating headache until like 3 months into T3, and everything S5E6 happens without her while she's lying in a dark tent in the corner of camp), except for Shadow Weaver's reaction.]
I'm sitting on a crate by the camp entrance, steadily working through another vintage bottle that I found in the arse end of nowhere, when the Queen's rescue team arrive back from wherever they'd been. 'The cosmos'. I don't find myself liking the subject.
First to walk in, as I'd known it would be, is Glimmer. Talented sorcerer, but too proud for her own good. She's grinning smugly, so - yes, following her is her boy.
Then, Perfuma - what a shame. I'd hoped she'd have died in the ten minutes she spent outside camp. The same goes for Netossa, because fuck her. Do I need a reason to hate people? Absolutely not. I have a feeling I'd get on with the woman if I tried, but who cares if I do or not? I don't care. I don't need friends. Netossa's dragging with her the short purple one - the one with the hair. Fuck her, too. She stole my position with Hordak.
I realise I'm being unnecessarily rude. Good. The alcohol is doing its job. I can't be sober for the end of the world - oh, come on, Reader, we all know it's true. Whatever we try is going to do bugger-all against what's-his-name. The big green one.
The next thing I see is unexpected. It's She-Ra, cradling Catra like a newborn. Catra's wrapped in a blanket - not dead; her feet are curled in pain and her head (short hair, now) is left uncovered, although she's hidden her face in She-Ra's shoulder. Finally. Catra's dying. I sometimes wonder if any of the other EXP351s would have annoyed me as much - if Fate lumbered me with the worst-behaved of the lot being the healthiest. Well - 'health' is relative. Catra's lifespan's been forty times that of EXP351/01 (and I'd actually liked that baby), but she's always been broken.
As Netossa and She-Ra, with Catra, step into the medical room, I am hit with the slow and crushing realisation that She-Ra is Adora. And if Adora's not weeping her soul out, Catra can't be dying. Ah, well. Nothing another drink can't numb away.
[There are two people in my writing that can break the fourth wall - Razz, and drunk Shadow Weaver.]
[Here's a scene I rejected. The title is "Memorial".]
Bow looked up. Adora looked down. Glimmer and Catra stared at each other levelly, the question having drawn the air tense.
"I only found out when word got back from our Bright Moon contacts.", replied Catra. "I didn't personally witness it. I had already been..." she searched for Entrapta's lexicon - "... abstracted."
Glimmer leaned back into her beanbag.
"Can you explain your thought process at the time?"
"I was initially under the impression that the machine would create a portal that would bring the Horde to victory. But then Entrapta told us-"
"Who's 'us'?"
"Me and Scorpia. Hordak was busy. Anyway, she told is it would destroy reality. I didn't really trust her, but that's not important, because either concept was fine with me. But-"
"Oh, yeah? Genocide with a side of either victory or death? Same thing, why not!"
Catra took a deep breath. Just this once was Glimmer perfectly justified in mocking her.
"But I never intended to kill some people and leave others alive. I don't like mourning."
"Weird philosophy."
"In the Horde, if a whole unit went missing, that was fine. That was a part of war. If one person died - often in a staged suicide - you knew it was a punishment from higher up. For them and for their friends."
"You need therapy."
"Improve your kingdom's psychiatric service then. It's frankly shit. But that's not my point. My point is that I deeply, deeply regret causing the death of your mother."
"OK. I don't forgive you, though."
Catra didn't mind. She knew she'd done some unforgivable things. If the spiritualist community were right and there was a hell, she was sure she had a place already booked.
[Catra doesn't really mean her fourth line in the general sense that she says it in. What she means is, 'I intended to kill myself and Adora at the same time', but obviously she can't say that.]
[Another rejected scene! This one is in Catra's office. The title is "Huntara".]
"Glad that's sorted, then.", said Huntara, closing the thick folder and putting it back in her bag.
"Sorry, again, about the whole... mess in the Crimson Waste."
"Well, as I said, this bit of paperwork should clear up the last of it."
"Bye, then."
Huntara doesn't get up. It's hard to tell - her face is permanently in a mean expression - but she looks a little concerned.
"I've seen you and Adora around."
"And?"
"You're dating, right?"
"In a manner of speaking."
Catra doesn't really think it's still dating, when they've been living together for eight months.
"If there's anything you need to talk about, I know a guy for anything. Therapy, assassination, lawsuit, whatever. Or you can talk to anyone."
"What?"
"There are some things that can be very hard to-"
Catra's hand goes to the bruise on her forehead. She'd forgotten it was there.
"Are you seriously- I fell and hit my head on a table! Adora told me you hated her, but you seriously think she'd hurt me?"
"Wouldn't put it past her."
"Get out."
"Oh. Right. Bye then."
Huntara stands, picking up her bag, and glares down at Catra.
"Fuck you.", mutters Catra sharply.
Huntara tenses.
"Are you trying to start a fight? Because-"
"Oh, I wouldn't. You've met Adora, I presume?"
Catra smiles at Huntara, who storms out.
[Here's the original Porcelain II (27/6/1002), including two perspectives! I rejected this one after I decided I preferred the one with the tremor. In retrospect, this scene also fits into Hesitant and You Drew Stars/Cicatrices.]
Adora clips the paper back into its folder and stands up.
"Wow, we must be passing close to a star. It's hot."
I put my book aside.
"You could take your clothes off."
She smiles at me. It's almost pitying.
"No. Not now."
She sits down next to me and puts her arm around me, carefully. I hug her back, tightly.
"Hug me properly.", I mumble.
"What do you mean?"
"Properly.", I repeat, and hug her even tighter to demonstrate.
"I don't want to hurt you."
There it is again.
"You won't."
She doesn't seem to hear.
I think, for a moment, then gather my wits.
"Adora, if I asked you to do something, you'd do it, right?"
"Within reason."
She gently twirls strands of my hair around her fingers.
"Well, hug me. I don't care if it hurts. I want it to hurt. So I know it's real."
She moves away, looking panicked.
"No."
She's breathing shallowly.
"No."
I stare at her for a second, then lightly punch her on the shoulder.
"Go on, hit me back.", I say. "You wouldn't have hesitated a couple weeks ago."
"I'm not going to hurt you."
She's considering me carefully, eyes shining blue and skating over my face and my hand, which is still in a fist. Perhaps she's about to report me gone insane.
"Treat me like a person, Adora.", I plead. "I'm not breakable. I'm the same as I was. Stop trying to help. Stop being scared to touch me. I'm fine."
The last statement is rather at cross-purposes with the tears that are running down my face.
She hugs me, properly.
"You wouldn't have hesitated a couple weeks ago."
That's true. Glimmer even noticed it, and she's not winning any medals for observancy. I suppose it's because we spent our childhood fighting for fun.
"I'm not going to hurt you.", I say to her. That's always been true - aside from the war - but applies moreso now that I know what she's going through. It terrifies me.
She's about to start crying. I want to hold her hand, but it's still balled up in a fist.
"Treat me like a person, Adora."
Have I not been doing so?
"I'm not breakable. I'm the same as I was."
I only wanted to help. I only wanted to make it better.
"Stop trying to help. Stop being scared to touch me."
I can't just stop being scared.
"I'm fine."
Am I the problem? Yes, I think I am. It hurts to realise.
[Yet another rejected scene! (This one actually started out as a simulation but then I decided I liked it but then I decided I didn't like it.) Here's "Dinner -IV" from D1aC. I thought it was a bit too heavy-handed, so replaced it with scene 1b in Priorities.]
Netossa and I are patrolling the outside of the cave. Adora, I know, is doing nothing for the next hour. It's perfect.
It takes me a good three minutes of pulling on my wrist - Melog looking at me curiously the whole time - for my shoulder to dislocate. I bite my lip to silence the initial slight shock of pain. Then, I realise, I should probably be going about this a bit more convincingly.
"Ow!"
For all my skill at lying, I don't think I'm a great actor. Or, so I think. Netossa looks suitably worried as she runs over to me.
"You alright, Catra?"
Story. Quick.
"I was just climbing a tree - try to see a but further around - and I hurt my shoulder."
I sound like a child, don't I?
"Mau."
I briefly contemplate telling Melog to shut the fuck up, before remembering that no-one else can understand it.
"Ooh. That looks dislocated. Let's head back inside."
Inside is where Adora is. Adora's healing. That's what Sparkles said. I don't want her to fix my shoulder - I want her to fix whatever the hell else it is that's wrong with me.
On the plus side, I've become very good at hiding really fast. On the minus side, not good enough. Scorpia was starting to notice before she left. Only dared mention it once, though.
Shadow Weaver's there, watching the door. She doesn't say anything - just picks up her wine glass. Probably enjoying the view of me, broken.
Netossa sits me down in the medical room.
"I'm going to pop the joint back in. This is going to really hurt, for a minute."
I nod.
She puts one hand on my collarbone and the other on my upper arm. Really, the most uncomfortable thing right now is her fingers so close to my neck. I'm still not used to the scar.
My shoulder clunks, rather viscerally.
"Well, that was easy. I can get She-Ra to heal the soft tissue for you. I'll just go see if she's free."
The medical room is quiet and peaceful. I'd quite like it, if I didn't hate the implications of my being here. Broken.
As I'd known she would be, Adora is free. She sits in the chair next to me, and smiles.
"You've been fighting?"
"Uh, yeah. No. Fell. Out of a tree."
From behind Adora, Netossa gives me a look. I know what it means, and she's wrong. I don't like Adora.
She reaches up the hold my shoulder, but stops an inch short.
"Can I?"
"Yes."
Adora's so gentle, I can barely feel her fingertips on my skin over the dull ache in my entire right side. Slight drawback of my method - I ended up wrenching my elbow, wrist, and collarbone, too. Her eyes turn bright blue, and I look away. I don't like that colour on her.
The healing feels like... not much, to be honest. It still hurts the exact same. All that's different is that the golden light sets the whole room spinning. I'm too warm. My vision blurs. And then the light stops, and I'm left pretending to look like I'm not about to fall off the chair.
"Better?"
It sounds like Adora's still smiling. I can't turn my head to actually see her face.
I can hear my heartbeat, racing, louder than I can hear my voice.
"Yes."
Netossa's knelt down in front of me. Do I really look that bad? I try to open my eyes wider. Lift my head. Smile, unless it looks awful, in which case, don't smile. Does it look awful? How should I know?
"You should stay here for an hour or so to recover. Hate to ask in your free time, Adora, but could you take the patrol?"
"Yeah, sure."
As soon as Adora leaves, Netossa gives me another scrutinising stare.
"You look dizzy."
"I'm not."
"Mau."
She pulls out a strange contraption, the wide band of which she wraps around my good arm, and starts pressing on the little bulb.
"Is it the same as when Glimmer teleports?"
I hate that I'm that obvious. But I enjoy the fact that she's wrong; it's not the same - the teleport feels like this, plus my skeleton being rearranged.
"No."
The band around my arm is uncomfortably tight. I'm not sure what she thinks she's playing at.
"Do you get dizzy often?"
"No."
"Mau."
Netossa raises an eyebrow at Melog. Is it annoying her? Or has she clocked that it's my own personal lie detector? The band around my arm decompresses with a hiss, and Netossa looks at the little dial on it.
"Hmm.", she says. Nothing else. She reaches toward my wrist, and I flinch away. Momentarily, she looks sort-of sad.
"Can I take your pulse?"
"Why.", I ask, flatly. This is all nonsense. I don't trust Netossa.
"I'd like to know your heart rate."
"I don't see how this relates to my now-healed shoulder."
She sighs. Good. That means I'm being difficult.
"It doesn't. But you're clearly not well. For a start, the malnutrition is obvious. And then there's your apparent allergy to magic. I'm not joking - I've worked in hospitals, so I know someone about to faint when I see them - and that's every time you're teleported, or healed, or whatever. And, yes, I did ask Bow, and he told me everything he could remember."
"Wow. I didn't know I had a stalker."
She sighs, again.
"Look - just take my advice, OK? Drink more water, rest more, and eat something for Pete's sake. You always disappear at mealtimes."
Because Shadow Weaver's there. Why doesn't anyone see the problem? Adora's the only one that understands. She brings me food - she knows the sorts of places I go to hide. Adora doesn't ask stupid questions when I get teleported, either. Just holds my hand until I can see and hear again. I don't think she knows I can't see or hear - or balance myself, for that matter - but that's fine with me. She doesn't need to know.
[Simulation, the request for which was provided by LockeHeart12: In which the Best Friends Squad and Mermista and Perfuma visit the Crimson Waste in T3 (March 1002) in order to extend its habitable area inward, because ex-Horde soldiers keep arriving in the border villages and it's getting crowded.]
[The perspective is with Catra.]
I forgot how much I hated the Crimson Waste. It was fun, sure - the first time, at least - but the feeling of being constantly overheated is unbearable. And I can't quite catch my breath, ever - the air's too hot. It seems as though all the oxygen's floated out of it. I'm kind-of floating, out of it, right now - I want to lie down. I shouldn't. It's the middle of the day. This is ridiculous.
Adora enters our tent, bringing a slight breeze from outside with her. It clears my head a bit.
"Hey, Adora."
"Hey."
She's all red in the face: she's been helping the rest of the camp set up. It was Adora who'd told me not to help out like everyone else, and I couldn't really disagree with her. It's not fair that no-one else teleports as badly as me.
"You alright? Did you have a nap?"
"Yeah."
How long has it been that I've been sitting here? We arrived at one-fifteen, and had something for lunch I can't remember, and now it's... I don't know. I don't wear a watch.
"We had a quick meeting, like, half and hour ago. Just... general stuff. I didn't want to wake you up. And... y'know, Mermista."
Oh boy, do I know Mermista. We've been making snide comments at each other since yesterday - nothing outright, but it's painfully obvious that we're not going to be getting along.
"She started it."
Adora grins. A memory stirs in the back of my mind. Hey, Octavia! You're a dumb-face!
"Anyway, if you're feeling OK, we're going to go out and do some prep work before we actually start tomorrow. It's totally fine if you need to stay here, though. There's no pressure."
Everyone says there's no pressure. It doesn't stop them from seeing you as weak.
"No, I'm fine."
I get up - shit shit shit, too fast, I can't see, my knees are giving out - and I'm outside, somehow. Is Adora here? Adora's here.
The picture assimilates itself. It's late afternoon. There's a big table in the middle, and four tents around it. The Bright Moon delegates' tents are pink-and-purple. Perfuma's is a nice floral print, although those actually might be dried flowers stuck to it. Mermista's looks the most out of place here: the fabric is dark green, thin and shiny, and clearly meant for a wetter climate because it's shrivelled at the edges. The camp itself is in the middle of a huge dead expanse. We'll actually be working closer to the border villages but, for fear of attack, we're sleeping well away.
Within minutes, the whole party is sitting at the table. Sparkles takes charge.
"Right, then. We have about two hours before dark. So what we wanted to find were any nearby water source, and some slightly more agreeable cacti. That it?"
Everyone seems to agree.
"I say we split into teams of two. We-"
"I'll take Bow.", interrupts Mermista.
Perfuma sighs irritatedly.
"Bow is much more suited, I feel, to the delicate art of floristry."
"Bow is going to stay here and cook dinner.", declares Sparkles, putting a protective arm around him.
"Don't I get a say in-"
"No.", chorus the three Princesses. It takes some effort not to start laughing.
Mermista tips her chair back onto two legs, and then one. It balances well. She's clearly practised.
"Then am I having you or you?", she asks, pointing at Adora and then Sparkles.
"Well.", begins Perfuma, in a tone of voice I'm not sure I like, putting her hands together like she's either praying or scheming.
"I was thinking, it's high time to build some bridges between old enemies. The atmosphere of emnity th-"
"Oh, no, absolutely n-"
-=-=-=-
And that's how I end up trekking through the Crimson Waste with Mermista, of all people. Adora and Perfuma are probably having a lovely time. I'm just trying not to notice the mean glances that Mermista's sending at Melog and I.
We're wandering through the fissures in the landscape, because that's where water is most likely to be; with stone walls on either side, and blanketed by shadow, it's also a lot cooler down here, and I can walk and think at the same time.
Mermista's shoe sends a rock skittering in my direction.
"Watch it.", I snap. Melog growls.
"That was an accident."
She hasn't had new nail polish in a while. The black colour's grown out quite a distance.
"I don't tend to go round attacking people just for kicks, you'll notice."
"I don't tend to drown two whole Forces in an hour. There were four twelve-year-olds-"
"And the children your robots massacred don't matter? What, 'cause they're sea elves? Are their lives-"
"The difference is, you could have stopped any minute. If I gave the order to retreat I would be dead right now."
"More of my people would have died if I'd stopped. So many more. We're on the brink of collapse as it i- fuck! Shit. Oh, fffuck. No - no, it's not a liquid - agh! Don't just stand there! Fucking help me!"
I shake myself out of my shock and crouch down, carefully feeling out the floor in front of me so that I don't end up in the quicksand too. I shouldn't have missed the Crimson Waste module of Force Captain Orientation. Scorpia told me there's a protocol for quicksand, but it's completely abandoned me. Something about rolling on the floor? No, that's fire.
Mermista's nearly up to her waist now, struggling to get free and scrabbling at the surface with her hands. What I can see of her legs has taken on a weird fish-scale texture. Must be a Salineas thing. Entrapta would be fascinated.
I grab under her shoulder and pull upwards, and Melog takes the other side, but we're not making much difference, and the effort makes my vision falter. I half-collapse back, sitting on the floor, and try to get back to reality. It's drifting further away.
A voice echoes somewhere in the distance.
"What the hell are you doing? Look - if you can't actually help, just call Glimmer!"
Glimmer? Glimmer isn't going to help anything. There's sand under my hands. Where's Scorpia? Where's Kyle?
"Mau."
Quicksand is a suspension.
Something dim lights up in my mind, and I find that I can speak, although my voice is jarringly loud, like a bell-tower in my head.
"Water. There's water."
"No! There's not! We're in the fucking desert! Snap out of it! Get Glimmer!"
Mermista is visible again, if only as a colourless, trembling shape.
"Water in the quicksand."
Mermista tugs one trapped hand free with an angry yell. She holds it up in the air, and from the quicksand pool follows a stream of yellowish - or that might just be all the colour I can see - water.
Melog helps to dig her out, assisted by the water which holds the loose sand out of the way, and soon she's lying on the floor, gasping.
"Th- thank you. But - the fuck was - that? Could you have been - any less helpful?"
"Yeah. Could have left you there."
I've suddenly swung from feeling much to warm to having goosebumps on my arms. Everything's clearer now, at least.
"No, I mean, seriously, was that a panic attack or what? I was the one about to die."
"I'm fine.", I say tersely. I just want her to shut up. Melog grows in size and I climb on, gesturing for Mermista to follow, and she does.
It takes about ten minutes to get to camp. The smell of dinner cooking is making me feel sick, and I'm just about to go straight to bed, when Mermista shakes my hand.
"Thank you.", she says genuinely. "Thank you for helping me."
I nod - I'm not used to being thanked for anything. Is there an accepted response? I don't want to get it wrong, so I stay silent.
Mermista seems to understand. She turns, and walks over to where Sparkles and her boy are cooking, announcing, "We found water! Kind of."
It's surprisingly cool in the tent. Adora's already there, reading one of her old books. I nestle next to her.
"Hey. Perfuma had an... um... altercation with a cactus. Anyway, we had to give up early."
"Oh."
Adora's warmth is comforting - not the stifling sort that the outdoors is.
"I rescued Mermista. She fell in quicksand."
"I jumped in quicksand once."
I trace the symbols on the page. Adora's tried to teach me First Ones, but I can only pick out an /a:/ here and a /t/ there. None of the grammar's sunk in yet, either.
"Typical."
"Mermista's a good friend when you get to know her. She pretends to be all detached, but she cares really."
Adora brushes the hair off my forehead.
"Which sounds kind of familiar to me."
"Hm."
I'm too tired to think properly. But I almost get what she's saying.
[Tinner! A simulation in which the Dinner act does not happen (and therefore the Gossip act does not happen), so Teleport I serves the same function as Dinner I, where it's the first time in D2 that Catra faints in front of anyone except Adora.
Everything else (Frienemy, Mouse, ME/CC, Notos etc) goes the same, except that {in Teleport, Catra isn't moved to the med room immediately, because it's the first time Netty's actually handled a faint} and {Team Darla stays out in space until their projected time of January}.
At the point that this scene happens, we're about two weeks after Teleport.]
"You're acting different.", says Glimmer.
Catra stops drying the plate she's holding.
"No, I'm not."
"Yeah, you are, since the... since Virelia."
Glimmer continues washing up, as if she doesn't know the line she's just overstepped.
"You're well-er."
"If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with Adora."
A tiny piece chips off the plate with the force that Catra puts it in the drying-rack with, but neither notice.
"You're shutting yourself off again."
"Fuck off, Sparkles."
"You know, I'm starting to think that Scor-"
"Fine."
Catra snatches the still-soapy mug from Glimmer's hands and starts to haphazardly dry it.
"Fine. You don't know where to stop, do you? I'm acting 'well' because Adora's treating me like I'm made of glass. I'm on, like, four different meds. I'm wearing compression socks, and a knee thing, and an elbow thing, right now. So, yeah, I'm acting 'well'. Doesn't mean I am. You happy with that? Or do you want to hear-"
"Yeah, I'm happy for you. I'm glad you're managing."
Glimmer's smile is genuine.
"Fuck you."
Catra slams the mug and tea-towel onto the worksurface and storms out.
[The point of Tinner is to challenge the fact that the Gossip act paints Glimmer as an antagonist - but she's not. She has legitimate reason to act the way she does in Gossip.
After Shadow Weaver, Glimmer won't believe things unless she can see them in front of her. In the normal progression of D2, this does not mesh well with Catra's masking - aside from moments like Dinner, where it's truly out of her control, Catra does not allow Glimmer to believe that she is ill, and therefore Glimmer just does not understand why Adora is so preoccupied with Catra: her feelings over this preoccupation manifest as her actions in Gossip.
But in Tinner, crucially, Catra isn't moved immediately to the med room. The whole team sees her lying screaming on the control room floor for a good few minutes. This confronts Glimmer with the reality of the situation, which provides us with her genuine reaction to the situation, undiluted by her own jealousy over Adora or Catra's lying.]
[I might write some more scenes in the Tinner sim at some point.]
[Rejected third scene of Oh How the Tables]
Catra walked into the bedroom, leaning lopsidedly on one crutch.
"Are you having a shower or a bath?"
"No - you don't need to d-"
Adora was interrupted by a bout of coughing.
"Don't need to do anything special."
"Nonsense. I'm just going to do a bath 'cause it's more fun. If you don't like it, write to the complaints department."
She pointed at the rubbish bin.
"No, no Catra serio-"
Another round of coughing. Adora really, really didn't want Catra to catch this, because the last time Catra had a cough she kept slipping the same rib, and that was a whole painful mess to deal with.
Something fell over and hit the floor - "I'm good that was just the shower stool stop worrying about me.", called Catra - and then the bath started running.
Adora might have gone to sleep at that point - she wasn't sure how long it was before suddenly the sound stopped, and then Catra was standing in front of her.
"Can you walk okay, or..."
It seemed that Catra was struck by an idea. While Adora sat up, rubbing her eyes, she hobbled round to her side and grabbed the other crutch in the pair, and then returned and held it out to Adora.
"I don't need that."
Catra smiled down at her.
"Yeah, but this is your day-in-the-life-of-me, so."
"Who said that?", asked Adora, standing up and leaning the crutch against her bedside table.
"I did."
Catra giggled.
"Which makes me She-Ra now. Oh, how the turns have tabled - I'm magic."
Adora started undressing.
"I think that would be a very bad idea."
"I'll let Sparkles know. She'll be thrilled. Wait, what do you think my sword would look like?"
"Umm..."
Adora got into the bath. It was lovely and warm.
"I'm not even sure you'd have a sword. One of the last She-Ras had a-"
She cut off, coughing.
"- a dragon and not a horse."
Catra sat down next to the bathtub, leaning against the side.
"So theoretically, I could have, like, a bunch of magic throwing stars?"
"Yeah, maybe."
"Okay, so how about a huge magic sculpture of a di-"
"No!"
Adora threw a handful of water at her.
"I say this with the full authority of She-Ra - no. Not even a possibility."
"You're so boring."
[Dream V + all its notes in {curly brackets}]
[sorry for draft format it's a bit ugly]
1004 11 November 28: AFCC (Post)
Part C
(Catra)
Adora.
{this isn’t ‘adora’ it’s ‘dt’}
It's Adora in front of me, hazy around the edges, smiling red.
{colour symbolism: danger}
Her hair's down, but she grins at me, and pulls it up into a ponytail. Stands still for a second and then tilts her head a degree or two to the side, scrutinising me.
{puts up hair – ref to unusual costuming in prev. chapter}
{fear of being watched too closely – link to secrets in pt D}
"Broken."
She's holding my chin, and running a thumb over my lips. I can't move, or speak, or scream. {occlusion of mouth theme}
The thumb goes inside my mouth, pressing against the right-side incisor in my lower jaw. {om}
{prev. chapter: dt kisses catra by force while disguised as adora}
"Mine.", she says, and presses down harder, and I can taste her blood. I will drown in her blood. {blood theme}
"You never were cut out for this, were you?"
{manipulation of dt’s words back in dec 1001}
There is a sudden crushing pressure on my lungs. {breathing theme}
"Being alive. Being *good*. It doesn't suit you, huh?"
For the first time in a while, I think, I take a breath in. Desparate. Shallow. {br}
"Go on, clever girl. Think yourself out of this one. Be q l u o i u e d t."
{calling catra ‘clever’ weaponised by SW}
{‘quiet’ from SW / ‘loud’ based on noisy intrusive thoughts}
The last word sounds like ten voices in one.
"I *love* you, kitten?"
{‘kitten’ from dt}
A hundred voices in one.
"You're a bad I f n r fl i u e e n n d ce."
{‘influence’ from SW / ‘friend’ from Scorpia}
A thousand voices in one.
"Get out." {escape theme}
{Hordak. More relevant later}
And, now, one voice in none. Not Adora's. Curling around my wrists and my neck and my skin.
{wrists, neck, skin: where the scars used to be}
"Break yourself."
1004 11 November 28: AFCC (Post)
Part D
(Catra)
Adora.
{this is ‘adora’ start of S1}
It's Adora in front of me, scared, sobbing blue.
{colour symbolism: she-ra’s eyes}
Sword in hand, turning away, and the blue eyes are gone. It leaves her shadow, massive on the near horizon, static, stubborn, everywhere. Pervasive.
{adora left catra but that just increased her influence over Catra’s life}
"Broken."
His voice echoes from a platform, and I am trapped in chains, staring down to a floor I've seen before. {es}
{this is Hordak}
"Mine."
There is a mask on my face, because I bite when threatened. And I am not in chains, and I am not in a mask - I am in myself. My body is my tomb and the Light is my senses. {om} {es}
{switches from physical entrapment in Fright Zone to feeling of being chipped, ‘the Light’ – HP’s hivemind}
"I was never cut out for that, was I?", my voice asks.
My breath is its own to use. {br}
{chipped}
"Being alone. Being strong. I couldn’t do it."
He laughs and so does my body.
{this is Horde Prime now}
"No, you could not, little one. And neither could you lie. Lies are hard to *get out* of, no?", he says. "Like love. One must escape, or one risks *dependence*." {es}
{HP references catra’s lie about entrapta, and hordak’s dependence on entrapta’s tech and presence (ref. Enemy)}
"I am weak.", my mouth says. {om}
He laughs again, and the sound pushes me farther away from myself.
"Yes. You are. Hard to escape it.”
The memories that I shoved underwater. They never drowned, not in all that blood on the white floor. Mine. {bl}
“Only one way out.”
{the memories are very literally just of her suicide attempt (which was catalysed by HP). The floor was white on the flagship and there was a lot of blood}
1004 11 November 28: AFCC (Post)
Part E
(Catra)
Adora.
{this is 3y/o adora}
It's Adora in front of me, serious, staring grey.
{colour symbolism: adora’s original eye colour}
I can't reach out to grab her hand, because my arms feel weighted. My body is impossibly heavy, and crackling red.
{SW’s red electricity magic}
"Broken.", it says, far above me, in the low voice I know so well.
{this voice is SW}
Adora steps forward, starts to circle around me. Her eyes say *mine* when she looks at me.
"You never were respec-ful, were you, Caf-rine?", she asks. So this is before the elocution lesson.
{uses “catherine”’s full name, and claims that catra’s disrespectful. This is a full embodiment of catra’s feeling that adora was 100% SW’s puppet}
{elocution lesson – adora got taught, with SW’s usual cruel methodology, to speak properly when she was 4. Irl she wasn’t immune from SW’s abuse.}
She's right behind me.
"You never did learn to shuddup, huh?"
{this ‘adora’ is SW’s puppet: reflects SW’s ‘be quiet’ instruction}
A little hand reaches round my head and covers my mouth. {om}
I can't breathe. {br}
The electricity intensifies.
"You're not stupid. You can break yourself out.", says the voice. {es}
{ref, again, SW calling catra ‘clever’}
My mind is still reeling, though. I can't breathe. {br}
"I couldn't stop her taking a shine to you."
{direct from SW}
My claws are pressing into my palm. Cutting. This is before the flagship. This is before the scars. This is before the promise. This is the first time I've had blood run through my hands. Enough to drown me. {bl}
{irl catra never hurt herself until she was like 8, and no scars until she was 10, but the dream version leans toward extremity}
"You and I both know you don't deserve it."
{again, direct from SW}
The electricity gets denser, a red haze around me, and I know it's hurting Adora too, and her hand pulls back just a bit, enough for me to take a breath. {om} {br}
"Go on, child."
The voice is unreadable. Soft.
"Get out." {es}
And it all dissolves.
{'Shadow Weaver' frees Catra from the loop at the end of iteration 3. She makes Adora let go, and allows Catra to breathe, and tells her to leave. Catra's mind has created an embodiment of SW that cares about her just enough to set her free.}
1004 11 November 28: AFCC (Post)
Part F
(Catra)
Adora.
It's Adora in front of me, worried.
{no verb & colour: breaks loop}
Not right in front of me. A couple feet away, sitting against the wardrobe, hugging her knees.
{ref prev. chapter: scared to get too close in case catra’s scared of her}
"Catra? Hey. Hey, it's okay. You were having a nightmare. It... is there anything I can do? I- I can leave, obviously, if you'd like, but..."
"Stay."
"Okay. I'm here for you. Is there anything you need?"
"No."
"Okay."
And she stays there.
[A little argument from the original version of Dinner II]
"Don't scare me like that!", exclaims Adora. "I told you to let me know if you're feeling dizzy. It's safer, for one thing, and for another, you won't have me and Netty kneeling on the hard floor - at this rate my knees'll be worse than yours."
"Sorry.", Catra mutters.
"It's - it's okay. Just tell me. Please. And - you need to care a bit more about yourself, because I feel like I'm shouldering a lot of that right now."
"You could just not."
"And then where would you be? Someone's got to care about you."
"Don't. Just don't. Just - stop it. Stop caring so much. You should - you should - you should hate me. 'Cause I'm the villain, aren't I? I hurt so many people. I don't think it's doing much for She-Ra's reputation, is it, fucking the enemy?"
Adora is brushing through Catra's hair with her fingers.
"I know you don't feel well, but that's not an excuse to hurt me or yourself."
"I said go away."
"No."
"Don't tell me you actually want to be here."
"I do. Really, actually, I do want to be here."
"No, you don't. I'm about as useful as a baby right now. This isn't-"
"I genuinely don't know what you mean."
"I mean, you had to undress me and put me to bed. And at dinnertime, you're going to make me soft bland food and watch me not eat it. And I'm going to wake up at 3AM again and do you get the picture? I'm worse than a six-month-old. I can't sit up."
"Today's just a bad day."
Catra sighs.
"Sorry. Sorry. Don't go away."
"You need to sleep."
"Yeah. Sorry."
[Little rejected scene called 'The Letter II' - 5th August 1005: Catra is currently in the hospital, 2 days before she gets a GJ tube]
Adora.
That's what the topside of the folded paper says - my name, in slightly wobbly First Ones.
I was really just looking for a specific spreadsheet for Bow, that Catra's been working with recently, but the paper piques my curiosity.
It's a letter - the rest of it's in normal Etherian, albeit in a tiny script, so that the page is a dense block of text, and written in wavering lines where a ruler might have come in useful.
Dear Adora,
I love you and I am so sorry.
I stop reading. I know what this is. I contemplate putting it back - and she'll never know I read it - or I could tear it up, that seems like a good idea - but I pause, and sit down.
There was never going to be enough time to
I rush out of the study, leaving the chair knocked over, the drawer open, and the letter on the desk.
[one of my original scene ideas for the TD->Post transition]
Distracted by the fact that she was scanning the crowds' heads for that familiar blonde mop, Scorpia bumped into someone.
"Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, I - wildcat! Haven't had a chance to speak to you yet. How was the trip?"
"Oh, uh, great."
"That's so nice to hear. Seph was telling me she wouldn't have enjoyed it at all. Where's Adora? How did Adora find it?"
"Who's Seph?"
"Is Adora not with you?"
Catra waved a hand behind her.
"I think she's over there somewhere. Who's Seph?"
"Oh! Yeah. Forgot you didn't know. That's Perfuma's nickname from when she was a teenager. Perfuma's my girlfriend now, can you believe that?"
"Yes, I can. I'm j-"
"So how did Adora find the trip?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"Did she not tell you? You're dating, right? C'mon, it's obvious."
"Yeah, but-"
"So?"
"I don't know, ask her."
"Are you okay? You seem angry."
"I'm fine."
Scorpia started waving madly.
"Oh, look, here's Seph! Seph, Catra's here!"
Perfuma wandered over.
"Nice to see you again, Catra."
She held out a hand, which Catra shook quickly.
"Yeah, you too, Perfuma. Look, I've got a meeting or something in five minutes so I've got to go. Bye."
"There aren't any meetings. It's a public holiday.", pointed out Scorpia.
Catra left anyway.
[Here's one, Secret (December 1000), that I rejected because it toes a weird line of either being way too obvious or way too subtle (I can't tell) and it's also a massive red herring. Which I generally enjoy, but I feel like Entrapta wouldn't be one to get her hypotheses so flagrantly wrong]
[Scorpia]
"This is taking ages."
Catra speaks in a monotone, staring flatly at Entrapta, who's soldering something green to a bunch of wires.
Sometimes, I think to myself, it might be worth learning what they all do, but then I remember that I am me, who finds handicrafts naturally very difficult, and lose interest.
"I'll probably be another -" Entrapta lifts her visor, frowns at a scrap of metal, tosses it over her shoulder, and lowers her visor - "two hours or so."
"Great."
Catra stalks over to the door.
"Keep the noise down. You two chatter like pensioners."
"You're so tired all the time, wildcat.", I comment.
Catra bristles.
"If you could solve problems for yourself for once, we'd all be a bit better rested."
Entrapta and I are left in silence.
Over the last several months, Entrapta, who previously made no effort to initiate conversation, has started to imitate my wordy habits. Somehow I still don't know much more about her, but I do know a lot about precisely why, at a conceptual level, everything doesn't actually exist. Or, at least, I'm led to believe this. I think. Physics is hard.
"Oh, I've just been reminded. Can you find something for me?", she asks.
"Sure, what?"
"An exact diagram and instructional on the Etherian heart. Non-pathological, that is. And, um, anything about congenital abnormalities. Cardiac ones."
I stop examining the pieces she has already built, and look at her, as if she might deign to clarify via sign language, or something.
"What?"
She doesn't look up.
"A picture of a heart, with words next to it."
"No, I know what you want, but why?"
"Eh, Hordak wants to know something. I can't tell you. You'd jeopardise it."
"Come on. There isn't anything you can tell me?"
I grin at her, and pull out my greatest weapon.
"Best friends always tell the truth."
She sets down her torch so as to consider for a moment.
"Well, I can tell you about two previous, complete experiments. EXP-351/01 and EXP-351/02. Both babies, died very young, of wrong-plumbed, uh... organs, I guess. Hordak's just wondering - never mind. Can't tell you that bit."
"C'mon. I'm really good with secrets."
"You wouldn't like this one. I promise, as your best friend, you're happier now."
Dang it. She used the best friend line back at me. It's not - for all its moral significance - that it holds any particular control over me, but that since it means so much to her, she'll never be convinced to tell me now.
[More will be added!]