"I just... kinda found the sword!" Adora says, voice creaking with forced lightness. That really must be the most lackluster summary she could've offered. They all look at her with just barely-concealed frowns, and Adora pushes herself to keep going.
"Turns out it was lying around on Etheria the whole time, just waiting for the next She-ra to come pick it up. But there was nobody to come pick it up, because Etheria was stuck in its own dimension-- but then the portal sucked me up and dropped me there, so..."
"So it's true," her father's voice comes from the other end of the table, deep and severe. "It's not just a myth. The previous She-ra really stranded her planet in isolation."
Adora's shoulders tense, and her eyes drop to the shimmering surface of her teacup. "Well-- sort of. I mean. Yeah. But it's more complicated than your history shows, Mara-- the previous She-ra, she wasn't a bad person. She was trying to protect her world."
It's probably Adora's fault that Catra feels weirdly defensive about where this conversation's going, and about what Mara did. She doesn't even know who Mara properly is, other than the obvious points and the fact that it's her ship they're exploring the universe in.
Melog's mane remains a shimmering blue despite the beginnings of spikes, and they sniff at their joined hands as Catra's fingers flex around Adora's. She ignores their meowled question; and Melog proceeds to hop down, winding around their chairs before coming to a stop on Adora's other side, where their size shifts until the two of them are suitable barriers between her and her parents.
"She saved us." There's a disbelieving scoff in Catra's voice. She came into this knowing exactly how it was going to go, and it still rankles her for it to actually be happening. "We know what your people were doing there. Don't act like we're the ones who suffered for being cut off."
Even Adam frowns - at her attitude, she assumes, her tail flicking against the chair leg with annoyance. She's wrong.
"What do you mean?" He looks to his parents, seeming to still have the naive belief that the adults in his life will always have the answers to his questions; despite his parents being nowhere near old enough to have any knowledge, if it wasn't passed down. "What were we doing there?"
"I'm not sure what she means," Adora's mother answers, a frown pinching her features as she looks from Adam to Catra. "Our ancestors were explorers. They spread out to new, alien planets, settled them and enriched them with their technology. What are you trying to get at, dear?"
Oh. Do they... do they not know? Adora can feel herself starting to panic, like the truth is stuck in her throat and won't let her breathe. She tugs at Catra's hand, wordlessy shaking her head -- a mute, frantic please don't. Somehow, this feels like something she needs to protect them from.
Sorry Adora. But it is way, way too soon after her meltdown; and Catra has not had time to relax, or practice her breathing exercises, or even ride around with Melog. Her nerves are frayed, and she's back on a hairline trigger.
Adora's tugging at her hand, but Catra's claws are already digging in to the soft fabric of the chair. Melog starts a low, rumbling growl. Still blue, but Catra isn't inclined to do anything to stop them. Melog knows what it was like when the First Ones came. Melog suffered, too.
"That's what they told you?" There's a thread of strain in Catra's tone, something that would have been sardonic if her throat hadn't scratched it on the way up. "That they came and enriched us?"
Melog's growl deepens, and Catra's ear dips towards them. This time, she decides to translate.
"Melog says that they ruined Krytis," she repeats for them; and her hands are trembling. Their connection is a two-way street, and when Melog remembers what happened -- it hurts. "They came and took the planet's magic, and they turned it into weapons for themselves. They left Melog's people defenseless, and alone, and so weak that when Horde Prime came he destroyed them. Only Melog had enough magic left to survive the assault. Prime was weak to their magic. If it weren't for the First Ones--your people, Krytis might have taken the Horde out centuries ago."
It's not a direct translation. A lot of the words are Catra's. The sentiment, though, hasn't changed.
"And Etheria--" She cuts off, because there's a slightly manic edge creeping into her tone. It hasn't been that long since she walked Adora to the place where she'd laid down her life for the universe. It hasn't been that long since Catra felt her body go limp, and her heart slow, and cried into her as she slipped away. Only long enough to bury the memory. Not long enough to process it.
Catra can't think of those details. Her eyes ache, and she's glad she's too dehydrated for them to betray her.
"They turned us into a weapon," she says instead; and she does not choke on the words like she thought she might. They just come out bitter. Her grip on Adora's hand has become tight, like some part of her is terrified that it's the only thing stopping her from becoming a ghost. "Our entire planet. They turned us into something powerful; something strong enough to destroy the entire universe. She-ra's the only reason they didn't get to use it."
"Of course they needed weapons," Adora's father cuts in, voice rising with indignation. "How can you blame them? They were at war with the Horde, they had no choice."
Adora screws her eyes shut, tries to focus on forcing her breaths into a steady rhythm, inhale after exhale. Her head begins to pound as all around her the voices escalate, each person at the table lashing out with their own anger and hurt.
"That doesn't excuse what they did! Their war doesn't mean they get to hurt and exploit other planets!"
"Their war could've ensured peace on all those planets, had they won it! If they could banish the Horde for good, these sacrifices would all have been worth it. It's because She-ra turned on them and refused to fight that they lost. Our people were once a thriving empire, all across the galaxy! Now this," her father throws out an arm towards the window, gesturing to the tiny, meager village outside-- "is all that's left!"
Adora's ears ring -- a piercing sound that floods her skull with burning white, and she clamps her hands over her temples in a futile attempt to contain it. "I'm sorry!" she heaves out, strained and gravelly from her raw throat. "I can't go back and change the past. I can't save everyone. I'm sorry-- that your people are gone, but it's not... I couldn't..."
The words crumble to dust on her tongue as her hastily-reconstructed dam comes crashing down again, hot tears slipping down her cheeks in rapid streams.
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.
Adora's barely present as Catra and Melog whisk her outside -- she doesn't even have it in her to protest, dizzy with the ringing and the voices that echo inside her head still. She feels sick, and guilty, a thousand-year mass of black stone that weighs on her chest so heavily that she can barely stay upright. The memory of Mara that lives on in her, in the sword, gets tangled up in the whirlpool of her thoughts until it's swallowed up in it completely, and all Adora can hear is:
It's your fault. They needed you. You couldn't protect them. It's your fault.
Over and over and over again.
She blindly clings to Melog, silent all the way, until she feels them come to a stop. And when Catra turns to her, the look in those shining, unevenly-colored eyes brings a clarity that allows Adora to raise her head above water, if only for the moment.
"Oh," she murmurs, wiping at her cheeks. "Are we walking now?"
As soon as Adora speaks, Catra looks away. She tells herself she's just cold, when she folds her arms and hugs herself; but the downward press of her ears is all guilt.
She was supposed to have had Adora's back in there. She should probably just -- stop making promises, at this point.
"You don't have to," she mutters. She wishes she still wanted to kick the dirt, but instead now she drags her foot through it, feeling the grains and small pebbles stick. She still wants to rant and yell, but she'll hold onto it until they're on the ship. She has a feeling Glimmer will be just as pissed as she is, and Adora's not in any state to put up with more aggression tonight. "Melog can carry you."
Melog yowls their assent, and when they turn their head they shimmer and shift, until they can lick a reassuring strip up Adora's face. (--And that's not Catra's fault. Melog's capable of empathy all on their own.)
The show of affection draws a weak laugh from Adora's lips, and she reaches to scratch behind Melog's ears. "Thank you," she says, to them and Catra both. "I... think I kinda need it."
Melog rumbles at her, a sound that's an eerie echo of a purr, and leans into the scratches. It's only when Adora hits a ticklish spot that they fake a sneeze (--still copying Catra's), and shake their head to stop her. And then, because they do not actually want to stop her, they meowl a request.
It's coincidence, probably, that Catra actually has to say something in order to convey it.
"...You're tickling them," she says shortly. Melog turns their head to huff at her, and Catra's fur bristles despite herself. Another coincidence, probably, that she can't feel bad about herself and be annoyed at Melog at the same time. "But they say to keep going. Just... rub them instead, or something."
Adora doesn't look good, doesn't sound good, and can't possibly feel good after all of that. Asking her how she's doing seems like a cheap question, when the answer is so obvious. And... there's something Adora said as well, and Catra doesn't know how to address it. A few things, actually. And back at the Heart, too, and occasionally along the trip.
Catra's silent for a bit, quietly keeping pace. She... actually doesn't have enough information yet to address it.
"Hey, Adora." Her tone's returned to normal, and her hands have relaxed on her arms. Melog does have a lot to do with it, this time; calming one of them tends to do it to the other. "You and the She-ra's of the past... How closely are all of you connected?"
"Oh," Adora says with an apologetic smile, "my bad." And she adjusts her touch accordingly, fingers stroking a little firmer, until Melog seems pleased again. After all, they're carrying her. It's the least she could offer in return.
And it's nice to have something to focus her attention on, besides.
She doesn't expect them to walk on in silence the whole way, but the question that leaves Catra's lips catches her off-guard, and Adora fumbles a moment.
"Um... that's a good question," she admits, sheepishly lifting her shoulders. It's been an ingrained part of her since she first picked up the sword-- she's never really stopped to analyze it, to put it into proper words.
"The ones that came long before, I can barely feel them," she begins, sifting through the clutter of her thoughts to put together an answer. "Maybe just-- when I transform, and that power washes over me, it feels... big, and ancient. Especially in the beginning, it felt like it wasn't coming from me, but more, bestowed upon me. From many generations before."
She draws in a breath, looks from Catra to the top of Melog's head. Keeps stroking at the fur along their nape, to soothe herself, too. She's so tired, and her brain feels like a frazzled pile of nerves, and talking about She-ra now, after everything her parents said...
No, she can't let herself fall down that hole again. Adora shakes her head, focuses on the here and now. Catra's asking because she wants to understand. Adora wants her to understand, too.
"It's different with Mara, though. I'm not sure-- I mean, in a way, she's always there. But sometimes I forget, you know? It's like she's off in the distance, watching over me. Sometimes I see her in my dreams. But sometimes it's more like she's inside me, like-- like when I recognize things that I shouldn't, and realize those must be her memories. Or sometimes I feel things, but I feel them a little bit more, and I think it's because it must've meant something to her, too."
"... I've never told all this to anyone before." She bites her lip, tilts her head to try and catch Catra's eye. "I don't sound crazy, do I?"
That's... a lot different than what Catra was expecting, and her eyes narrow in contemplation at the ground for a moment until Adora's insecurities shine through - and then she can't help but scoff.
"Are you kidding? You haven't stopped sounding crazy to me since you left the Horde." She makes sure there's levity in her tone, and her tail brushes deliberately across Adora's face to dispel any delusion that she means to be taken seriously. She even actually looks at Adora afterwards; a side-long glance with the smallest quirk of her lips before Catra turns her gaze up, looking at the stars.
"So do you know about all the things they did? Do you..." ...this is straying into uncomfortable territory, for her. Some of the memories the chip had connected her to are still buried in Catra's mind, and sometimes sleep is a horrible thing. "...dream about that as well, or something?"
"... Sometimes. It's never that concrete, though. Just flashes." Colors and smells and emotions, all slipping like sand from between her fingertips the moment she wakes up.
"I know about Mara because... because Light Hope told me. Even if a lot of it was distorted by the First Ones' beliefs. And I know about her from Madame Razz, too, even though it could get pretty confusing because she couldn't tell us apart half the time." She lets out an awkward little chuckle, then falls silent.
"... And I know from Mara, because she left a message on her ship-- that was the first time I got a clear, honest view of what happened to her. That's when I knew she wasn't a bad person, or a traitor at all."
And then, depsite her best efforts, her mind reels her back to her parents. Adora's face scrunches up for a moment, before she wills her features back into smoothing, filtering a long breath through her teeth.
"But that's never going to matter to any of the First Ones."
Well, that answers that. Adora has a connection to the She-ra's of the past, but not to their actions.
She's got no grounds to act like anything they did is her responsibility.
"Does it matter what they think of Mara?" It's an important question. If making the First Ones - if making Adora's parents - understand is something that Adora needs to do, then Catra will put everything she has into making it happen. "...You're different people, Adora. You know that, don't you? Whatever issue they have, that's with Mara. It isn't with you."
Adora's gaze escapes downwards again, almost guilty. It's just-- the way Catra can say those things so easily, completely detached from that twisting clump of knots that makes up all of Adora's thoughts, her duties, her regrets. It makes Adora wish she could step outside her own head for once, just so she could see things Catra's way. So she could really believe it wholesale when she says this isn't your fault, or it doesn't always have to be you.
But she can't.
"It's not that simple, Catra. Even if we're different, we're both still She-ra, and..." She releases the admission on a sigh, so heavy it slumps her shoulders. "I believe she was right. She was faced with an impossible decision, and she made the least destructive choice. If it were me back then, I can't imagine doing anything different."
Adora's back straightens as she speaks, body growing rigid with conviction. "I mean, I shattered the sword. I disabled the Heart. I didn't want to be a pawn in the First Ones' plans any more than Mara did. So if to them, she's a traitor, I'm... just as bad."
"All you had to do was say 'yes, Catra. My ego is tied up in some complete strangers' opinions about something that someone else did over a thousand years ago'." Catra almost rolls her eyes. And then does do it, because Adora's stupid and that just needs to be expressed somehow. "I still don't see how sharing a magic sword and a few opinions means you may as well have been Mara yourself. So what if you agree with her? I agreed with Hordak, once. You think that makes me responsible for the things he did?"
Because she makes enough bad choices on her own without taking his on too, thank you.
"It's different, Catra!" Adora's listless disposition simmers with a rising wave of frustration, and she throws one arm out beside her as she speaks, the other clinging to Melog. "I still agree with her. I'm never going to see her as the villain in the story, the way they do. It's-- it's--"
She trips over her own thoughts in her fluster, struggling to explain the gravity of the situation to the person closest to her, who, from her flat expression, simply does not seem to get why this is a big deal.
"You heard the way they talked about She-ra. What I believe, what I know to be true, those things don't matter. It's not about Mara being bad, or me being bad -- I know why things happened the way they did. But I can explain our reasoning to them until I'm blue in the face and it won't change a thing. It won't undo what their people went through. It won't take their pain away."
She pushes the words out in a rushed, fervent stream, each one scraping against her sandpaper-throat. An idle thought surfaces: I wish we'd stayed for tea, but she quickly stamps it down.
"Look--... Don't you get it?" She searches Catra's eyes, halfway to pleading. "It was the same for you, too."
She holds Adora's gaze for as long as she can, and then Catra has to look away. She doesn't want to argue with Adora. She's tired, and Adora has to be too, and even the uncomfortable lashing of her tail is less energetic than usual.
Catra closes her eyes. She really just -- wants to go home.
"No, it wasn't." The softness of her voice keeps it from scratching. Catra's pace slows, and then stops; it takes Melog a couple more steps before they do the same, turning in a semi-circle to face her. She meets Adora's eyes again, and tries to will her to get it. "That was personal. That was-- It wasn't because of stories, Adora. We actually did things to each-other."
Isn't that the understatement of the century.
"It was because I was an idiot." She exhales a long breath, one that's more drained than annoyed, and raises a hand to rub the fur around her eyes in frustration. "And it didn't take me a thousand years to get over it. These people don't even know what it was like for the First Ones. They're not hurting," and it's a real issue, that Adora can't see that; "they're jealous. They've heard stories about what their ancestors had and they think they're entitled to it. They don't actually care about what happened. They only care that they feel like they've been cheated out of having something better than what they've got."
So, actually. Maybe not that different after all.
"...What do you want us to do, Adora?" Catra's hand drops, so she can look at her again, and she just. She doesn't know how to help. She's trying to hold up her end of their promise but it's hard, and harder still when she fundamentally disagrees with Adora's reasoning. So maybe it's time to stop trying to argue the point and just - go with it, for a while. Try to untangle the issues along the way. Isn't that what a friend does? "I'll help you, so just -- tell me, okay?"
Adora listens to Catra in silence. Her throat bobs in places with the urge to dissent, but she swallows it down. Catra is smart; she's analytical, she gets what makes people tick. And she doesn't have the kind of investment in this situation that Adora does, which may well be what this whole argument boils down to-- but then, it's probably what Adora needs most right now.
Just... Catra, here with her, pulling her from the murky waters of her mind with her solid grip and sharp tongue. She can't make that block of guilt in her chest disappear, but with her support, it's just that much easier to carry.
But the shared burden is clearly taking its toll on Catra, too.
"... Hey." On slightly wobbly legs, Adora slips off of Melog's back, to close the distance between her and Catra. She lifts a hand to cradle one soft, freckled cheek, and pulls her in to kiss her forehead.
She can tell how hard Catra's been trying for her. Even now, with both of them wrung-out and spent, with Adora bringing up their past when she really should know better -- and she does, she just got so frustrated for a moment that she couldn't help herself... even now, Catra's doing all she can to support her.
"Thank you, Catra. I'm really grateful for you. I just-- needed to say that."
She slouches against her with a quiet sigh, forehead coming to rest over Catra's slim shoulder.
"... I don't know what we should do. That's what scares me. I want to make things right with them, but I don't know if I can. At the very least, I... want to go back and talk with them again tomorrow."
Her hand falls away, gingerly searching for Catra's. "Could you come with me, please?"
She breathes a small sigh when Adora's lips meet her forehead, and Catra wraps her arms around her; a movement that she doesn't think about doing until her hands are already on her, holding Adora steady and close.
It's really weird to be thanked, and Catra's not sure what it's for. But she's always been hungry for Adora's attention; always yearned for the gratification of being noticed. So even though she's done nothing but make things worse tonight, Catra takes that gratitude and hoards it like a precious mineral that she's done nothing to deserve but is determined to keep anyway.
"Sure you want me there?" She asks, quiet and wry. She doesn't deny Adora's hand, adjusting to keep one arm wound around Adora's back so she can grasp it, her palm against the back of Adora's hand and long-nailed fingers curling protectively around hers. "You've got better options, you know." She presses the side of her head against Adora's, which all but buries her nose in Adora's jacket - and if Catra takes a deep breath, and if she's comforted by the familiar smell, that's her own business. But she won't be jealous if Adora decides to take Glimmer or Bow instead. Both of them have more experience in having families and peacefully resolving issues than Catra does. "I don't want to screw this up for you again."
Catra's not wrong. Adora doesn't imagine Glimmer or Bow would have reacted with anywhere near this kind of intensity, were they the ones to meet her family today. At the same time, though, she can't picture going through any of this without Catra.
And no matter how much has happened today, how much they've both struggled and cried-- she wouldn't want to.
"Well, but I like you," she answers lightly, angling her head to kiss Catra's cheek. "So I want you there."
With that, she pulls back, hand still gripping Catra's own.
"... Come on, I can see the ship. I want to go sleep for eight hundred years." Her smile quickly morphs into a grimace as she realizes: "And we gotta catch Glimmer and Bow up on everything... oof."
There's an uncontrolled, and entirely happy, curl and swish of her tail at Adora's simple answer. 'But I like you. I want you.'
(Not Adora's exact words. So what? Catra's never been ashamed to work with what she's given.)
And maybe the look in her eyes is a bit soft for a while, and maybe her heart's a little bit warmed and a little bit melty. It's just -- Adora chose her. Adora keeps choosing her, even when she really shouldn't.
And that matters.
"We could sneak in," Catra suggests, squeezing her hand. Melog trills a noise of support, stepping forward to twine around their legs already. It makes it difficult for her tail to brush against Adora's leg when Melog's in the way, but somehow, she manages. "I already told them you wouldn't be back tonight. They won't be expecting us."
It might have been a jealous decision she'd made to tell them that, when she'd had Adora's communicator and had been certain that Adora would be staying put and leaving Catra to go back alone. But it can work in their favour. Catra, for one, doesn't want to spend any more time vertical than she has to. And there's still the issue of her needing to properly wash out her fur, changing Adora's sodden bandages, hanging their clothes to dry... explaining to the others really could wait.
"That would be mean!" Adora protests, but her voice thins to a whine as she considers. "But I am sooooo tired..."
A tired Adora is more easily swayed, especially when it's a two-against-one deal. Kind of unfair that Catra's got a telepathically-bonded alien familiar to channel her feelings into.
"They won't be mad." And if they are, Catra will deal with them. She shifts her hand on Adora's, so she can stroke her fingers lightly down Adora's, quietly encouraging her to join Catra's side on this. "They'll be more upset if they think you're forcing yourself to stay awake just to talk to them."
Probably. Maybe. She doesn't actually know, she's just guessing. But if pretending like she's certain on it will help Adora decide to take some time out, then Catra's fine with that.
She doesn't want this to drag on, so Catra steps into Adora again, her free hand rising to brush across Adora's shoulder and then into the hair at the nape of her neck, pressing her down to bump their foreheads together lightly.
"Let's go to sleep, okay?" It's a quiet invitation. And just in case Adora needs the extra push, just in case she needs to feel like she's making this decision for somebody else, Catra adds in her own complaint: "I'm tired, too. I don't want to be awake any more."
"Okay, okay," Adora caves, the last of her resolve dissolving into dust. Catra is so very good at making it so very hard to say no, and frankly, Adora's legs are maybe fifteen minutes away from giving under her.
"-- But we're telling them first thing in the morning!" she declares, to alleviate her guilt.
And so they reach the ship and creep inside, as quickly and quietly as they're able-- and growing up in the Horde has ensured they're quite adept. Thankfully, their friends are all sound asleep by the time they're inside, one less reason for Adora to feel guilty.
(God, they've really been out there a while.)
They set about getting ready for bed, and because they're messes, it takes what feels like forever. By the end of it, Adora keeps fading in and out of sleep, selfishly letting Catra take care of her. Then she goes and sits on the floor outside the bathroom, waiting for Catra to wrangle the filth from her fur. Sleep catches up with her there, too, and she dozes off for a good few minutes, slouched against the door.
Its opening startles her awake, and Adora just narrowly avoids falling over. But she comes back to her senses quickly enough, looking up at Catra with a wide, lopsided smile. "Yaaay, you're done," she whispers, then sticks out both arms. "Help me up."
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morethanadistraction) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
boxitup2020-05-31 09:58 pm
no subject
"Turns out it was lying around on Etheria the whole time, just waiting for the next She-ra to come pick it up. But there was nobody to come pick it up, because Etheria was stuck in its own dimension-- but then the portal sucked me up and dropped me there, so..."
"So it's true," her father's voice comes from the other end of the table, deep and severe. "It's not just a myth. The previous She-ra really stranded her planet in isolation."
Adora's shoulders tense, and her eyes drop to the shimmering surface of her teacup. "Well-- sort of. I mean. Yeah. But it's more complicated than your history shows, Mara-- the previous She-ra, she wasn't a bad person. She was trying to protect her world."
no subject
Melog's mane remains a shimmering blue despite the beginnings of spikes, and they sniff at their joined hands as Catra's fingers flex around Adora's. She ignores their meowled question; and Melog proceeds to hop down, winding around their chairs before coming to a stop on Adora's other side, where their size shifts until the two of them are suitable barriers between her and her parents.
"She saved us." There's a disbelieving scoff in Catra's voice. She came into this knowing exactly how it was going to go, and it still rankles her for it to actually be happening. "We know what your people were doing there. Don't act like we're the ones who suffered for being cut off."
Even Adam frowns - at her attitude, she assumes, her tail flicking against the chair leg with annoyance. She's wrong.
"What do you mean?" He looks to his parents, seeming to still have the naive belief that the adults in his life will always have the answers to his questions; despite his parents being nowhere near old enough to have any knowledge, if it wasn't passed down. "What were we doing there?"
no subject
Oh. Do they... do they not know? Adora can feel herself starting to panic, like the truth is stuck in her throat and won't let her breathe. She tugs at Catra's hand, wordlessy shaking her head -- a mute, frantic please don't. Somehow, this feels like something she needs to protect them from.
no subject
Adora's tugging at her hand, but Catra's claws are already digging in to the soft fabric of the chair. Melog starts a low, rumbling growl. Still blue, but Catra isn't inclined to do anything to stop them. Melog knows what it was like when the First Ones came. Melog suffered, too.
"That's what they told you?" There's a thread of strain in Catra's tone, something that would have been sardonic if her throat hadn't scratched it on the way up. "That they came and enriched us?"
Melog's growl deepens, and Catra's ear dips towards them. This time, she decides to translate.
"Melog says that they ruined Krytis," she repeats for them; and her hands are trembling. Their connection is a two-way street, and when Melog remembers what happened -- it hurts. "They came and took the planet's magic, and they turned it into weapons for themselves. They left Melog's people defenseless, and alone, and so weak that when Horde Prime came he destroyed them. Only Melog had enough magic left to survive the assault. Prime was weak to their magic. If it weren't for the First Ones--your people, Krytis might have taken the Horde out centuries ago."
It's not a direct translation. A lot of the words are Catra's. The sentiment, though, hasn't changed.
"And Etheria--" She cuts off, because there's a slightly manic edge creeping into her tone. It hasn't been that long since she walked Adora to the place where she'd laid down her life for the universe. It hasn't been that long since Catra felt her body go limp, and her heart slow, and cried into her as she slipped away. Only long enough to bury the memory. Not long enough to process it.
Catra can't think of those details. Her eyes ache, and she's glad she's too dehydrated for them to betray her.
"They turned us into a weapon," she says instead; and she does not choke on the words like she thought she might. They just come out bitter. Her grip on Adora's hand has become tight, like some part of her is terrified that it's the only thing stopping her from becoming a ghost. "Our entire planet. They turned us into something powerful; something strong enough to destroy the entire universe. She-ra's the only reason they didn't get to use it."
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Adora screws her eyes shut, tries to focus on forcing her breaths into a steady rhythm, inhale after exhale. Her head begins to pound as all around her the voices escalate, each person at the table lashing out with their own anger and hurt.
"That doesn't excuse what they did! Their war doesn't mean they get to hurt and exploit other planets!"
"Their war could've ensured peace on all those planets, had they won it! If they could banish the Horde for good, these sacrifices would all have been worth it. It's because She-ra turned on them and refused to fight that they lost. Our people were once a thriving empire, all across the galaxy! Now this," her father throws out an arm towards the window, gesturing to the tiny, meager village outside-- "is all that's left!"
Adora's ears ring -- a piercing sound that floods her skull with burning white, and she clamps her hands over her temples in a futile attempt to contain it. "I'm sorry!" she heaves out, strained and gravelly from her raw throat. "I can't go back and change the past. I can't save everyone. I'm sorry-- that your people are gone, but it's not... I couldn't..."
The words crumble to dust on her tongue as her hastily-reconstructed dam comes crashing down again, hot tears slipping down her cheeks in rapid streams.
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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?"
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It's your fault. They needed you. You couldn't protect them. It's your fault.
Over and over and over again.
She blindly clings to Melog, silent all the way, until she feels them come to a stop. And when Catra turns to her, the look in those shining, unevenly-colored eyes brings a clarity that allows Adora to raise her head above water, if only for the moment.
"Oh," she murmurs, wiping at her cheeks. "Are we walking now?"
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She was supposed to have had Adora's back in there. She should probably just -- stop making promises, at this point.
"You don't have to," she mutters. She wishes she still wanted to kick the dirt, but instead now she drags her foot through it, feeling the grains and small pebbles stick. She still wants to rant and yell, but she'll hold onto it until they're on the ship. She has a feeling Glimmer will be just as pissed as she is, and Adora's not in any state to put up with more aggression tonight. "Melog can carry you."
Melog yowls their assent, and when they turn their head they shimmer and shift, until they can lick a reassuring strip up Adora's face. (--And that's not Catra's fault. Melog's capable of empathy all on their own.)
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It's coincidence, probably, that Catra actually has to say something in order to convey it.
"...You're tickling them," she says shortly. Melog turns their head to huff at her, and Catra's fur bristles despite herself. Another coincidence, probably, that she can't feel bad about herself and be annoyed at Melog at the same time. "But they say to keep going. Just... rub them instead, or something."
Adora doesn't look good, doesn't sound good, and can't possibly feel good after all of that. Asking her how she's doing seems like a cheap question, when the answer is so obvious. And... there's something Adora said as well, and Catra doesn't know how to address it. A few things, actually. And back at the Heart, too, and occasionally along the trip.
Catra's silent for a bit, quietly keeping pace. She... actually doesn't have enough information yet to address it.
"Hey, Adora." Her tone's returned to normal, and her hands have relaxed on her arms. Melog does have a lot to do with it, this time; calming one of them tends to do it to the other. "You and the She-ra's of the past... How closely are all of you connected?"
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And it's nice to have something to focus her attention on, besides.
She doesn't expect them to walk on in silence the whole way, but the question that leaves Catra's lips catches her off-guard, and Adora fumbles a moment.
"Um... that's a good question," she admits, sheepishly lifting her shoulders. It's been an ingrained part of her since she first picked up the sword-- she's never really stopped to analyze it, to put it into proper words.
"The ones that came long before, I can barely feel them," she begins, sifting through the clutter of her thoughts to put together an answer. "Maybe just-- when I transform, and that power washes over me, it feels... big, and ancient. Especially in the beginning, it felt like it wasn't coming from me, but more, bestowed upon me. From many generations before."
She draws in a breath, looks from Catra to the top of Melog's head. Keeps stroking at the fur along their nape, to soothe herself, too. She's so tired, and her brain feels like a frazzled pile of nerves, and talking about She-ra now, after everything her parents said...
No, she can't let herself fall down that hole again. Adora shakes her head, focuses on the here and now. Catra's asking because she wants to understand. Adora wants her to understand, too.
"It's different with Mara, though. I'm not sure-- I mean, in a way, she's always there. But sometimes I forget, you know? It's like she's off in the distance, watching over me. Sometimes I see her in my dreams. But sometimes it's more like she's inside me, like-- like when I recognize things that I shouldn't, and realize those must be her memories. Or sometimes I feel things, but I feel them a little bit more, and I think it's because it must've meant something to her, too."
"... I've never told all this to anyone before." She bites her lip, tilts her head to try and catch Catra's eye. "I don't sound crazy, do I?"
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"Are you kidding? You haven't stopped sounding crazy to me since you left the Horde." She makes sure there's levity in her tone, and her tail brushes deliberately across Adora's face to dispel any delusion that she means to be taken seriously. She even actually looks at Adora afterwards; a side-long glance with the smallest quirk of her lips before Catra turns her gaze up, looking at the stars.
"So do you know about all the things they did? Do you..." ...this is straying into uncomfortable territory, for her. Some of the memories the chip had connected her to are still buried in Catra's mind, and sometimes sleep is a horrible thing. "...dream about that as well, or something?"
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"I know about Mara because... because Light Hope told me. Even if a lot of it was distorted by the First Ones' beliefs. And I know about her from Madame Razz, too, even though it could get pretty confusing because she couldn't tell us apart half the time." She lets out an awkward little chuckle, then falls silent.
"... And I know from Mara, because she left a message on her ship-- that was the first time I got a clear, honest view of what happened to her. That's when I knew she wasn't a bad person, or a traitor at all."
And then, depsite her best efforts, her mind reels her back to her parents. Adora's face scrunches up for a moment, before she wills her features back into smoothing, filtering a long breath through her teeth.
"But that's never going to matter to any of the First Ones."
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She's got no grounds to act like anything they did is her responsibility.
"Does it matter what they think of Mara?" It's an important question. If making the First Ones - if making Adora's parents - understand is something that Adora needs to do, then Catra will put everything she has into making it happen. "...You're different people, Adora. You know that, don't you? Whatever issue they have, that's with Mara. It isn't with you."
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But she can't.
"It's not that simple, Catra. Even if we're different, we're both still She-ra, and..." She releases the admission on a sigh, so heavy it slumps her shoulders. "I believe she was right. She was faced with an impossible decision, and she made the least destructive choice. If it were me back then, I can't imagine doing anything different."
Adora's back straightens as she speaks, body growing rigid with conviction. "I mean, I shattered the sword. I disabled the Heart. I didn't want to be a pawn in the First Ones' plans any more than Mara did. So if to them, she's a traitor, I'm... just as bad."
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Because she makes enough bad choices on her own without taking his on too, thank you.
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She trips over her own thoughts in her fluster, struggling to explain the gravity of the situation to the person closest to her, who, from her flat expression, simply does not seem to get why this is a big deal.
"You heard the way they talked about She-ra. What I believe, what I know to be true, those things don't matter. It's not about Mara being bad, or me being bad -- I know why things happened the way they did. But I can explain our reasoning to them until I'm blue in the face and it won't change a thing. It won't undo what their people went through. It won't take their pain away."
She pushes the words out in a rushed, fervent stream, each one scraping against her sandpaper-throat. An idle thought surfaces: I wish we'd stayed for tea, but she quickly stamps it down.
"Look--... Don't you get it?" She searches Catra's eyes, halfway to pleading. "It was the same for you, too."
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Catra closes her eyes. She really just -- wants to go home.
"No, it wasn't." The softness of her voice keeps it from scratching. Catra's pace slows, and then stops; it takes Melog a couple more steps before they do the same, turning in a semi-circle to face her. She meets Adora's eyes again, and tries to will her to get it. "That was personal. That was-- It wasn't because of stories, Adora. We actually did things to each-other."
Isn't that the understatement of the century.
"It was because I was an idiot." She exhales a long breath, one that's more drained than annoyed, and raises a hand to rub the fur around her eyes in frustration. "And it didn't take me a thousand years to get over it. These people don't even know what it was like for the First Ones. They're not hurting," and it's a real issue, that Adora can't see that; "they're jealous. They've heard stories about what their ancestors had and they think they're entitled to it. They don't actually care about what happened. They only care that they feel like they've been cheated out of having something better than what they've got."
So, actually. Maybe not that different after all.
"...What do you want us to do, Adora?" Catra's hand drops, so she can look at her again, and she just. She doesn't know how to help. She's trying to hold up her end of their promise but it's hard, and harder still when she fundamentally disagrees with Adora's reasoning. So maybe it's time to stop trying to argue the point and just - go with it, for a while. Try to untangle the issues along the way. Isn't that what a friend does? "I'll help you, so just -- tell me, okay?"
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Just... Catra, here with her, pulling her from the murky waters of her mind with her solid grip and sharp tongue. She can't make that block of guilt in her chest disappear, but with her support, it's just that much easier to carry.
But the shared burden is clearly taking its toll on Catra, too.
"... Hey." On slightly wobbly legs, Adora slips off of Melog's back, to close the distance between her and Catra. She lifts a hand to cradle one soft, freckled cheek, and pulls her in to kiss her forehead.
She can tell how hard Catra's been trying for her. Even now, with both of them wrung-out and spent, with Adora bringing up their past when she really should know better -- and she does, she just got so frustrated for a moment that she couldn't help herself... even now, Catra's doing all she can to support her.
"Thank you, Catra. I'm really grateful for you. I just-- needed to say that."
She slouches against her with a quiet sigh, forehead coming to rest over Catra's slim shoulder.
"... I don't know what we should do. That's what scares me. I want to make things right with them, but I don't know if I can. At the very least, I... want to go back and talk with them again tomorrow."
Her hand falls away, gingerly searching for Catra's. "Could you come with me, please?"
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It's really weird to be thanked, and Catra's not sure what it's for. But she's always been hungry for Adora's attention; always yearned for the gratification of being noticed. So even though she's done nothing but make things worse tonight, Catra takes that gratitude and hoards it like a precious mineral that she's done nothing to deserve but is determined to keep anyway.
"Sure you want me there?" She asks, quiet and wry. She doesn't deny Adora's hand, adjusting to keep one arm wound around Adora's back so she can grasp it, her palm against the back of Adora's hand and long-nailed fingers curling protectively around hers. "You've got better options, you know." She presses the side of her head against Adora's, which all but buries her nose in Adora's jacket - and if Catra takes a deep breath, and if she's comforted by the familiar smell, that's her own business. But she won't be jealous if Adora decides to take Glimmer or Bow instead. Both of them have more experience in having families and peacefully resolving issues than Catra does. "I don't want to screw this up for you again."
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And no matter how much has happened today, how much they've both struggled and cried-- she wouldn't want to.
"Well, but I like you," she answers lightly, angling her head to kiss Catra's cheek. "So I want you there."
With that, she pulls back, hand still gripping Catra's own.
"... Come on, I can see the ship. I want to go sleep for eight hundred years." Her smile quickly morphs into a grimace as she realizes: "And we gotta catch Glimmer and Bow up on everything... oof."
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(Not Adora's exact words. So what? Catra's never been ashamed to work with what she's given.)
And maybe the look in her eyes is a bit soft for a while, and maybe her heart's a little bit warmed and a little bit melty. It's just -- Adora chose her. Adora keeps choosing her, even when she really shouldn't.
And that matters.
"We could sneak in," Catra suggests, squeezing her hand. Melog trills a noise of support, stepping forward to twine around their legs already. It makes it difficult for her tail to brush against Adora's leg when Melog's in the way, but somehow, she manages. "I already told them you wouldn't be back tonight. They won't be expecting us."
It might have been a jealous decision she'd made to tell them that, when she'd had Adora's communicator and had been certain that Adora would be staying put and leaving Catra to go back alone. But it can work in their favour. Catra, for one, doesn't want to spend any more time vertical than she has to. And there's still the issue of her needing to properly wash out her fur, changing Adora's sodden bandages, hanging their clothes to dry... explaining to the others really could wait.
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A tired Adora is more easily swayed, especially when it's a two-against-one deal. Kind of unfair that Catra's got a telepathically-bonded alien familiar to channel her feelings into.
"Ugh, they're gonna be maaaad..."
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Probably. Maybe. She doesn't actually know, she's just guessing. But if pretending like she's certain on it will help Adora decide to take some time out, then Catra's fine with that.
She doesn't want this to drag on, so Catra steps into Adora again, her free hand rising to brush across Adora's shoulder and then into the hair at the nape of her neck, pressing her down to bump their foreheads together lightly.
"Let's go to sleep, okay?" It's a quiet invitation. And just in case Adora needs the extra push, just in case she needs to feel like she's making this decision for somebody else, Catra adds in her own complaint: "I'm tired, too. I don't want to be awake any more."
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"-- But we're telling them first thing in the morning!" she declares, to alleviate her guilt.
And so they reach the ship and creep inside, as quickly and quietly as they're able-- and growing up in the Horde has ensured they're quite adept. Thankfully, their friends are all sound asleep by the time they're inside, one less reason for Adora to feel guilty.
(God, they've really been out there a while.)
They set about getting ready for bed, and because they're messes, it takes what feels like forever. By the end of it, Adora keeps fading in and out of sleep, selfishly letting Catra take care of her. Then she goes and sits on the floor outside the bathroom, waiting for Catra to wrangle the filth from her fur. Sleep catches up with her there, too, and she dozes off for a good few minutes, slouched against the door.
Its opening startles her awake, and Adora just narrowly avoids falling over. But she comes back to her senses quickly enough, looking up at Catra with a wide, lopsided smile. "Yaaay, you're done," she whispers, then sticks out both arms. "Help me up."
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