Catra doesn't know when she stood, or when her hair bristled or when Melog's aura flashed into a burning vermilion. Her foot is on the table, as if she's about to leap over it and go right for Adora's father -- and then Adora cries out, and the rage that had tunneled her vision is shocked out of Catra's blood as she jerks back.
(She really had just been about to attack an unarmed civilian. Her heart pounds harder at the realization. She's not leaving as much of her past self behind as she thought.)
The urge to kick the table at Adora's parents is still real, and the claws of her toes dig deep into the wood.
Catra sucks in a deep breath, and retracts the claws she doesn't remember extending. She wants Melog to take Adora out of here, and leave Catra to deal with this - but she knows how that would end. Adora will forgive her for a lot of things, but Catra is pretty sure that that would not be one of them.
"We're going." She says shortly. And she does kick the table, then; but as a push that shoves it roughly away, instead of sending it flying into their faces. Tea sploshes across the floor as the cups tumble from their saucers, and it's not anywhere near vindicating enough. She's considering the urge to do more damage when she feels Melog's head beneath her hand, and with their body pressed protectively against Adora's legs, the last survivor of Krytis scrounges up enough of their magic to shift them.
And then they're outside, the night air brisk and still, mid-way between their ship and the village. It's as far as Melog could take them. Catra wants to kick a ditch into the ground; wants to scream her frustrations and vent her rage. Instead she whips around, tail lashing, to check on her best friend.
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(She really had just been about to attack an unarmed civilian. Her heart pounds harder at the realization. She's not leaving as much of her past self behind as she thought.)
The urge to kick the table at Adora's parents is still real, and the claws of her toes dig deep into the wood.
Catra sucks in a deep breath, and retracts the claws she doesn't remember extending. She wants Melog to take Adora out of here, and leave Catra to deal with this - but she knows how that would end. Adora will forgive her for a lot of things, but Catra is pretty sure that that would not be one of them.
"We're going." She says shortly. And she does kick the table, then; but as a push that shoves it roughly away, instead of sending it flying into their faces. Tea sploshes across the floor as the cups tumble from their saucers, and it's not anywhere near vindicating enough. She's considering the urge to do more damage when she feels Melog's head beneath her hand, and with their body pressed protectively against Adora's legs, the last survivor of Krytis scrounges up enough of their magic to shift them.
And then they're outside, the night air brisk and still, mid-way between their ship and the village. It's as far as Melog could take them. Catra wants to kick a ditch into the ground; wants to scream her frustrations and vent her rage. Instead she whips around, tail lashing, to check on her best friend.
"Adora?"