nobody takes catra seriously

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nobody takes catra seriously

It had been years since they'd saved the universe. They'd gone on a crazy space adventure, bringing magic to whatever planets could accept it and fighting weird and often bizarre things along the way. It was an insane way to spend their youth, frankly, and sometimes it made regular daily life feel really boring in comparison. But other times, like when she was watching Adora - radiant in She-Ra's colours, mingling and laughing with her friends by the table of food at Scorpia's first ever hosted Princess Ball - it made Catra feel... warm. Appreciative. They'd done all of that so that they could have this; so that Adora could relax, knowing she'd done literally everything in her power to help (--and Catra could not stress this enough) every living being in the universe; so that Catra could lounge in a quieter corner of the packed ballroom, relatively sure that whatever the princesses spoke to her partner about, none of it could be all that threatening.

...Well, not threatening to their lives, anyway.

Now, realistically, Catra knew that she was the one draped in Adora's colours. She was the one clearly marked by shimmering white and gold, and she was the one who was close enough to Adora to have pilfered the pin that she wore brazenly on her red shirt. This did nothing to stop the narrowing of her eyes or the flattening of her ears as she honed in on a particularly muscular princess making her way to Adora, and that right there was a threat that Catra was going to cut off before it could begin.

(So maybe she was a little possessive. Whatever. It was either interject now, before Adora had a chance to get distracted by firm biceps, or start a fight later. Catra hadn't ever consulted anyone on this, but she was pretty sure everyone except Frosta was happier when she wasn't scratching anyone up.)

After so many years of safety, of not needing to rely on her claws to defend herself, there were the rare occasions where Catra would consent to wearing shoes. This was one of those occasions, and the sharp click of her heels on the floor gave altogether a different sense of power than the subtle warning the digging in of her nails usually was. Sadly, the noise was lost to the sounds of the ball - but still, the commanding aura about her encouraged the princesses in her way to step to the side, making a path. (Or maybe that was just because this was not the first time this had happened, and was surely not going to be the last. Only an idiot would stand in her way when she was like this.)

She made it to Adora well before the muscular princess, and pressed her hands first against her partner's back before slipping them up to her shoulders, and then clasped them around her front to lean bodily into her, eyes flashing with a dangerous spark as she pressed her lips against Adora's ear to purr out a low and breathy greeting. Her usual, of course, as her tail twitched with predatory warning to anyone who might think to interrupt: "Hey, Adora."

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This is the best night ever.

The weeks leading up to the prom have had Adora positively giddy. After years of wild intergalactic adventuring, you might think some big party with music and snacks would fail to excite her -- but no, you'd think wrong.

Ten years. It's been ten years since her first Princess Prom. It used to feel like it'll be forever before she gets to experience it again, but just like that, it's come right back around. And everything is so completely different from the last ball, it's like a whole new world: magic now runs free through Etheria and the galaxy, and the Princess Alliance is an unbreakable front. Their planet has enjoyed a beautiful era of unity and peace for years now, and Adora's biggest concern is getting the depth of each curtsy right. Back then she couldn't imagine ever feeling so content, so carefree.

And now she's here. With Catra. Her wife. Ten years ago today, they were enemies. It feels like so many lifetimes ago that it might as well have happened to someone else entirely. It's just crazy to think about. She doesn't know how it doesn't make everybody else crazy to think about.

So Adora's kind of bouncing off the walls tonight, though she's at the very least making some effort to conceal it. You know, keep up a nice and proper visage. With all those years living in the Bright Moon castle, she'd like to think she's got the noble part down well enough. So she greets everyone with a smile and bow, definitely doesn't run across the ballroom in her heels, and refrains from shrieking 'oh my gosh, you're here' at old, familiar faces. For the first hour or so, she's as regal as can be while buzzing like a beehive.

Though she does smother Huntara in a hug as soon as she approaches, because it's been-- what, at least a year? And Huntara always gives really great hugs. And, also? Adora may have had just a few sips of punch too many by now, and when she's tipsy her princess manners are definitely the first to go.

The two of them fall into friendly chatter easily, like no time has passed since their last meeting at all. While her brutish appearance may be intimidating to some at a glance, Adora's always found Huntara to be awfully easy to get along with. It's that Horde upbringing, maybe-- allows them to laugh at things other princesses might not always get, gives them that shared rough-and-tumble attitude that allows for friendly back-slaps and playful elbowing.

Catra had wandered off a little bit ago -- the proximity to the snack table put her in the middle of too much human traffic, which Adora totally gets. She's just about to wrap it up with Huntara and head back to her with a plate stacked with samples of everything, when Catra beats her to it, draping around her from behind, voice rumbling in her ear.

Huntara quirks up an eyebrow at the display, but Adora doesn't so much as bat an eye. "Oh, hi, Catra! I was just gonna get back to you in a sec. Look," she holds up her large, busy plate, lined with two of every appetizer, "I've got so much stuff! But then Huntara was here and I had to say hi! Did you hear she won the Crimson Waste's boar wrestling contest last weekend? Why don't we have boar wrestling contests? Bright Moon should make that a thing!"

"Ooh," she plucks a sample off her plate, presenting it to Catra. Catra's sharp stare and agitated twitch of the ear are doing nothing to slow her chipper babbling. "You have to try this. These are the most amazing bacon date wraps ever. In the world. In the galaxy!"

"Come ooon, try it," she coos, pressing the date to Catra's pursed lips while making insistent 'nom nom nom' noises, to coax her into opening her mouth.

There was a smarmy comment on her lips, but then Adora's mouth runs a mile a minute and there's a plate of - okay, yeah, delicious smelling - tiny food in her hand, and Catra's ears and nose are left twitching as she hangs off her wife, now stuck on which piece of conversation to follow on. She wants to snark about the boars, but also flirt with Adora's ego (why not let her wrestle boars. Everyone would get a kick out of it), but also fire shots at Huntara, but also deny that any of the food here is the greatest in the galaxy because she wants to show off the fact that. You know. She and her wife have been around the galaxy together and shared all sorts of different foods and experiences.

Whatever she wants to do doesn't matter anyway, because Catra's mouth opens automatically when Adora raises something to it. Which is especially annoying because Adora's dumb noises make her want to keep her lips stubbornly jammed shut, and the kiss that she places against Adora's fingertips is also automatic and also annoying because -- because excuse you, you can't just casually take advantage of her habits like that.

Catra's tail lashes angrily behind her as she bites down on the date with an unnecessary amount of force, and--

--and okay, it is pretty good. That doesn't help her mood. (And then it sticks to her teeth, and she'd used her sharpest to chomp on it, and and and it was like Adora knew her, or something.)

So instead she settles for glaring at Huntara over Adora's shoulder, although the effect is utterly ruined by the scrunch of her face as she tries to lick off the date sticking to her incisors. (Grace has always been Catra's natural strong point, yes. Decorum has not.)

"Let's just go." She's giving up on sly and going straight to bitching. "This stupid party stinks."

(It does not stink. Catra has, in fact, been looking forward to it for a while now. Aside from spending it with Adora, aside from being able to show herself off as hers, it's Scorpia's first ball and Catra had assured her that she'd be here to support her. Catra wants to be here to support her.

She just doesn't want to do it anywhere near Huntara.)

"No it doesn't, silly! Scorpia and Perfuma really poured their hearts into it. You've been really excited for it, too!"

There's absolutely no dampening Adora's spirits, not with the music swirling around her, and the pretty warm lights, and the people she loves all around. Besides-- she can tell when Catra's grouchy just for the sake of being grouchy. For now, she's just going to keep feeding her. Maybe she's just hangry!

"And look at this! Tiny tacos! I don't even know what's in this, but it's soooo tasty. Try it!"

It's then that Huntara steps in, nudging an elbow to Adora's. Her lips are curled into a roguish grin. "Come on, blondie, clearly your girl's not up to it right now. Look at her, she can't even get the date out of her teeth." (It's true. Catra has been at it for a good few moments now.)

"Here, I'll take that off your hands," Huntara says, and without further warning grabs hold of Adora by the wrist to bring the snack up to her mouth, where it's promptly consumed in a single bite. Adora blinks, caught by surprise, and then throws her back head with a laugh like it's the funniest thing that's ever happened.

"Man! You were right, that is amazing."

"I know!" Adora squeals between giggles, leaning back against her wife. "It's like, how do they even come up with that stuff! I love food!"

She is not hangry, as much as she is draped over Adora's shoulders like a particularly irritable and volatile cloak. One that bristles when Adora lets Huntara step into her space and take her wrist, and then lets Huntara bring her mouth close to her fingers, and then lets Huntara eat Catra's snack and giggles at her.

Fighting will get her bounced from Scorpia's party, and she knows that Frosta is hanging around somewhere just waiting for an excuse to ice-cube her. She still wants to smack the tiny taco (--which she did want to eat) out of Huntara's mouth.

"We're going," she snaps. Because she has matured and she has improved and Scorpia hasn't even announced the first dance yet, she is, as they say, 'de-escalating' the situation by using Adora's lean and her hands on Adora's chest to pull Adora's weight into her. She will drag her if she has to.

Adora is not quite as steady on her feet as she was earlier this evening -- you know, before the three cups of punch -- and so Catra is able to pull her away with little hassle. She's hardly in the mood to resist, anyway. Catra can take her wherever she pleases.

"Bye, Huntara! It was real good seeing you!" She waves at her with one outstretched hand, walking backwards as Catra tugs her along. With her other hand, she cradles the hors d'oeuvres plate to her chest, constantly readjusting the angle to keep them from slinking off onto the floor.

"Wow," Adora muses aloud once they've left Huntara's earshot, "I think she actually licked my hand!"

For a sharp moment there, Catra actually sees red. That's the second before she stops dragging Adora, and snatches for her besmirched hand without a care for the plate or the princesses nearby. (They're used to this sort of thing by now, probably. Catra's fur raised and bushy tail swinging in jealousy, draping herself all over Adora and manhandling her limbs as if they're her own. If they're not used to it, they really should be.)

"What?! Where?" She demands, holding Adora's hand up to the flashing lights as if she'll be able to see Huntara's germs crawling over her fingers. "Why would you let her?"

"Oh, just my finger?" Adora chuckles, pliable in Catra's hold. "'cuz she was eating off it! I don't think it was on purpose. But maybe?" She doesn't seem particularly bothered by the thought. Worlds apart from Catra.

Not to worry, though-- she has a solution for that too. Wiggling her fingers in front of her wife, Adora quirks a flirty eyebrow, voice dropping to what she's convinced is a very seductive low note: "You can lick my hand, too."

"No!" Not now that Adora's suggested it, anyway. "I don't want Huntara's germs anywhere near me!"

She's acting like a brat, she knows. Catra does not care. Adora does not get to (really poorly) try to flirt her way out of this one. Instead Catra tugs her again, dragging her to and insistently seating her in a chair that becomes vacated as soon as Catra glares at it.

And then Catra takes her place, in Adora's lap, arms wound around her neck and ~~sulking~~ simmering in her annoyance.

"Show me what you wasted all that time getting," she demands. Which of course really means she wants to know what foods are on Adora's plate. Because she is, maybe, a little hungry. It's totally unrelated to her mood.

"Here, I'll wipe it first!" Adora offers helpfully, and runs her hand down the front of her dress. That doesn't seem to quite win Catra over -- no hand-licking ensues -- but Adora is content to be manhandled into a chair instead. She skillfully maneuvers her arms around until she's got the plate balanced over Catra's stomach, keeping it steady with one hand.

"Okay! I still want you to try that tiny taco, so here." She picks it off the plate, bringing it up to Catra's mouth.

"I got two of everything," she explains as Catra chews, "one for you and one for me, or in case you really liked it and wanted to eat two. Well, there's only one of this one 'cuz Huntara ate the other, but I've got two of everything else!"

Adora grins at her, brow lifted expectantly. "Good, right?"

Catra's teeth graze Adora's fingers when she takes the tiny taco, and it's. You know, it's fine. It's crunchy, which is better than the stickiness of the bacon-wrapped date, and it's got those green leaves in it that make her mouth feel really refreshed and that one type of salted fish that would have been all the Rebellion would've needed to give her to have her turn to them sooner.

"It's fine," she answers, only bothering to swallow it down after she's grumbled around the mouthful. Her ear twitches, betraying the lie. She really wants another of those. Huntara just ruins everything.

Instead of admitting it, she lifts her chin haughtily; parting her lips for the next sample. She does absolutely expect her wife to continue feeding her each of these.

Adora's face lights up at that grumbled comment like she'd been paid a compliment of the highest order. Which, to be fair, she kind of had-- she could see Catra's eyes going all big when she took a bite.

And yes, she will happily feed Catra every single item off her plate, especially if it means getting to see all the cute faces she makes when she likes something, and getting her lips to brush over her fingers each time.

"Alright, alright, now try this one," she says, hand hovering over the carefully curated selection before finally picking out a small, fried ball of-- something. She thinks fish? Look, Adora's not fussy about details when food's concerned. All she knows is it's tasty, and so up towards Catra's parted lips it goes.

They make it about four items into her plate this way, before Scorpia's voice comes on over the speakers, announcing it's almost time for the dance. Catra's weight on her is the only thing keeping Adora from leaping off her chair.

"Oh my gosh, Catra, it's the dance! We gotta do the dance!"

Edited 2020-06-06 07:11 (UTC)

By the time they hear Scorpia's voice, Catra's considerably more relaxed. Her tail, silkier now than it had ever been in the Horde, catches on the light fabric of Adora's dress with every satisfied pass; her ears have dropped from a rigid upright position to a relaxed sideways slant; and her fingers have begun scratching lightly through Adora's hair.

The latest bit of food is accepted with a quick, deft flick of her tongue against the tip of Adora's finger (--what was that she'd said about not wanting Huntara's germs?) and a huff of laughter at Adora's excitement. Catra would tease her about it, but she knows Scorpia will be anxiously looking to see her friends on the dance floor... and Catra is long past the point of being the person who would so easily let Scorpia down.

"Alright, alright," she drawls, slipping from Adora's lap. One of her nails catches on Adora's hair as she removes her hands, and Catra pretends that it's a totally intentional thing and not just a hazard of refusing to file down her claws by slowly twisting the strands around her finger and letting them fall as she withdraws.

(She's so smooth, she congratulates herself. Good job, Catra.)

She makes sure to grasp Adora's hand with her own as she vacates her lap, only so she can bow over it in an obnoxiously sweeping gesture that is absolutely a mockery of the one outlined in section 6a subsection R(3) of the Princess Prom Rules. (Which are, disgustingly, still burned into her brain from the first time. When she'd had to make absolutely sure she would show Adora up, and that meant staying up all night forcefully memorizing and practicing every tiny detail. --And then it had turned out nobody followed half of the rules anyway, and boy, did that rankle when she realized she'd not only studied, but studied something so completely useless.)

Well, nobody could accuse her of not following protocol at these dumb things. (And it had been so satisfying to correct her when Adora had tried.) She presses a kiss to Adora's knuckles, looking up at her with the amusement from the memory still glimmering in her eyes.

"Come on, then." The invitation is followed by another kiss, this one on the back of Adora's hand. "Let's go dance."

Adora's sure to shove three different hors d'oeuvres into her mouth before thursting the plate onto the nearest waiter. (What? She'd hate to waste it!) She chews as quickly as her teeth know how, swallows down hard, and straightens in her seat-- only for Catra to take her hand with such charm and grace that she nearly chokes mid-swallow.

She's like a fairytale prince, head bowed to plant a gentle kiss against Adora's knuckles. One from a real fairytale, for children raised outside the Horde, the kind that reached Adora's ears only in adulthood but left a lasting impression all the same.

And now her heart's all aflutter.

Adora is only faintly aware of the long, thin 'eeeeee' rising from the back of her throat like a tea kettle as she rises to her feet, clasping Catra's fingers in her own with an enthusiastic nod. She lets her lead her to the dancefloor -- because she really does like being led around by Catra like that -- and falls into the familiar rhythm and steps.

Despite the liquor her making her lightheaded and a little loose-limbed, Adora is able to slip into the dance with practiced elegance. There have been enough celebrations in those last ten years, royal or not, for Adora to have obtained a firm enough grasp on the once-foreign art form. And on top of that, if she's being perfectly honest, she's been practicing for this particular dance. A lot.

One hand still holding Catra's, she bends the other behind her back, shoulders straight and steps measured. They circle around each other, just slowly, and Adora's eyes take in the sight of Catra in the party's orange-pink lights -- how striking and bold she looks in her colors, with her messy ponytail of thick dark locks that she wouldn't let Glimmer brush.

Oh, geez.

She really wants to kiss her right now.

But as the ball's formal dance goes, time doesn't allow it, and the next moment it's time for them to part -- with Mermista stepping in front of her with an outstretched hand and her characteristic half-smile.

Literally how is anyone ever fooled into thinking her wife is suave, Catra wonders, as she watches Adora chew rapidly and swallow with all the grace of a starved animal. Adora can put on the dress and the shoes and let out her hair, but even when she's enjoying dressing up she's still Adora.

And she's definitely had a bit much to drink, Catra notes as her ears twitch towards the noise dragging up from her throat. Her tail lashes with suppressed laughter as she straightens, and tugs Adora to the dancefloor.

"Aww, no curtsey?" She teases, assuming the first position with relaxed ease. Adora doesn't look as stiff as she did the first time, whether that's the punch (moderately likely), practice (reasonably likely, and Catra amuses herself with the assumption that her wife has probably spent time running herself through drills on this), or the lack of suspicious persons hanging around (definitely the most likely). But she still has the remnants of a soldier lingering about her, in the perpetually straight set of her shoulders and firm set of her arms, and Catra looks almost lazy in comparison as she steps in the prescribed circle, eyes drifting freely over her wife -- and softening once she catches sight of the look on Adora's face.

Adora's an idiot. She's a total idiot, and Catra loves her so, so much.

Too soon, her hand splays over Adora's hip; and then it's time for them each to turn, ostensibly, to their next partner.

Catra catches a glimpse of Bow's confused look as instead of joining him, she pivots around Adora's body, slinking around to rejoin in front of her, pressing both hands to hers.

"Keep it moving, Princess." She's disrupting what is supposed to be a traditional introductory dance by cutting so cleanly in front of Mermista (--who, thank you Rule of Hospitality, cannot retaliate), but Catra doesn't even spare her a glance. Adora's spent enough time this evening looking at other people; it's time for her to be her wife's only focus.

"Catra!" Adora whispers in a scandalized scold. Even a little tipsy, and with Catra's persistent closeness making her chest and cheeks warm, Adora's regard for rules is not so easily forgotten.

(Though she's still moving in line with the rhythm, palms pressed to palms, as she chastizes her.) "This dance is an ancient tradition maintained for hundreds of years, you can't just--"

"We've got this, Adora," Mermista drawls as she steps around them and into Bows's arms, "just chill out and dance with your wife."

Adora huffs, glances between Mermista and Catra, and finally accepts this with a timid little "thank you". Then she reaches up an arm, to twirl Catra around.

"We're being very rude."

"Relax. You heard her." She's supposed to hold her arm in front of her chest, but instead she places her hand on Adora's hip; and it drags across her stomach as Catra languidly follows the turn. Her fingers flick against the soft fabric of her dress when they run out of Adora to run along, and Catra's a little disappointed when it's back to palm-to-palm. The next step is to give each-other away again; and again, instead of sending Adora to her next partner, Catra pivots and slides bodily around her to resume her position at Adora's front. "I'm the only partner you need."

She hears the resigned sigh of her wife's would-be partner behind her as she places her hands on Adora's arms (and - yes, gives the firm muscles there a squeeze), but they move on without a fuss. And Catra can't not rub that in smugly. "See?"

Very unfair of Catra to stroke her hand over her stomach like that, with just the faintest graze of nail. Adora's ticklish there, and it almost throws her off-rhythm, but she manages to suppress it with only a tensing of her shoulders and a hard glare.

"It's still rude," she grumbles, wrapping her arms over Catra's waist to lift her up as they spin. "And I practiced for this dance for ages!"

With Glimmer, mostly. And a little with Bow. So she guesses Catra wouldn't really have a way to know that, but still.

"And you're doing such a good job," Catra all but purrs the words with false encouragement on her way up, laughter in her voice. With anyone else, she'd take the opportunity of raised height to scope out the floor and locate friends. With Adora, she keeps her eyes trained down on her wife, threading a hand through her hair again; this time, to tug with a smirk. She doesn't have to do anything at this part except let Adora lower her again, and she leans forward just enough to brush a kiss against her ear as she's slipped back down.

Of course, the partner change is ignored again; and Catra's nails drag all around the line of Adora's waist as she circles deftly around her, crossing her arms at the wrist to wait for Adora's hands once more. "Or maybe I'll just go and dance with Scorpia instead, if you're really that torn up about it."

Catra does not know where Scorpia is right now, but makes as if to pull her hands back anyway. Moment of truth, Adora.

Edited 2020-06-06 14:25 (UTC)

Maybe it's the alcohol making her extra-sensitive to touch, but those sneaky little kisses and brushes of fingers are making Adora feel really, stupidly hot all the way up to her nape. Or maybe it's because Catra is being a brat and this warmth is just her budding frustration.

Either way, it doesn't help that at no point did Adora stop wanting to kiss her, and she still hasn't gotten to. But she can't do it now, because Catra's being a brat, and kissing her would be admitting defeat. At something. Somehow. Look, they've been together the whole lives, Adora can tell when she's being challenged.

Likewise, she knows Catra's just trying to rile her up when she threatens to pull her hands away, but that does little to stop her from thrusting out both arms, grabbing hold of Catra's hands, and pulling her to her with more force than strictly necessary.

"That would be-- extremely disruptive," she hisses.

Edited 2020-06-06 15:11 (UTC)

The pointed edge of an incisor peeks out onto her lip as Catra smirks, and follows the rough pull with ease. There's nothing in the world that's quite as satisfying as messing with Adora.

She follows the prescribed turn in Adora's arms, resting their joined hands against her own shoulder instead of modestly above like the rules dictate, and lets her head fall backwards onto Adora's elbow so she can be smug directly up at her. Catra's heart might be the one pounding with excitement after the pull, and her pupils might be the ones becoming dilated, but she's winning. The near-scowl on Adora's face proves it.

Her tail brushes up the backs of Adora's legs before winding around low on her hips, the tip twitching with a playful bap against her thigh. It's a small mercy that Catra's feet actually move across the ground in the side steps they're supposed to; at this point, she's only making sure she's keeping to doing just enough of the dance properly to annoy Adora. Catra could be doing this all correctly. She just won't.

"So what's the problem?" Her eyes gleam with amusement under the lights, and Catra's mocks a suddenly understanding look. "You really wanna change partners that badly? You should've just said something."

And her hand slips from Adora's, reaching out to the side like she actually intends on participating in the next partner exchange.

Edited 2020-06-06 22:16 (UTC)

Again, Catra? Seriously? God, it's so obvious that she's going to keep doing this until Adora calls her bluff. And she's so sure Adora's not going to call her bluff, what, just because she's so effortlessly graceful and radiant under the lights, and because the tickle of her tail against Adora's hip is maddening in a way that she never wants to stop?

Adora spends a moment internally seething, but then casts a look sideways to see who her next designated partner is-- and that instantly seals the deal.

"Thank you," she tells Catra with a sudden bottomless ocean of calm to her voice. "I'm glad you understand."

And with a light curtesy, she lets her hand go. Bow's problem now.

Huntara takes her place in front of Adora instead, and Adora wastes no time in latching onto her, leaning in far closer than the routine dictates so she can whisper over the music--

"Huntara! Catra's driving me crazy, I need to win this."

The larger princess regards her with equal parts confusion and laughter. "Win what? The dance?"

"Yes," Adora answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. She throws a quick glance Catra's way when Huntara twirls her, then steps back in closer than she has to, yet again. The placing of her hand over Huntara's shoulder is pointedly deliberate, and maybe she caresses that impressive bicep while she's at it, too. A little bit. "Just-- just go along with it, okay?"

"Hm." Huntara purses her lips in thought, then slips her hand down from Adora's waist to her hip. "Like this?"

Adora's face immediately brightens, and she squeals out a giggle. Eat that, Catra. "Thank you, you're the best."

Edited 2020-06-06 23:12 (UTC)

There is nothing more suspicious than the sudden calm in Adora's voice, and Catra's smirk falls into a frown. But by then her languidly stretched hand is accepted, and she's tugged into the spin that ends with her back against Bow's chest, and Catra's mouth drops open in outrage as she watches her wife drape herself over Huntara.

"What is she doing?!" She hisses, bristling. Bow steps deftly around her bushed tail, guiding her carefully into the dip while she glares daggers at Adora. She's stiff as a board in his hands, and her lips draw back in a snarl when during the raise she sees Adora twirl and caress Huntara with fingers that should be on Catra right now.

"I think she's dancing," Bow answers, unphased. After so many years of living on a small spacecraft together, there's really no side left of Catra he hasn't seen. He even knows to carefully position her hands on the decorative metal across his shoulders, and doesn't flinch when her claws release in fury as Huntara's hand slides down Adora's body and rests on her hip. It's almost like he'd expected something like this to happen, and planned for it.

"Is she giggling?!" Catra jerks, breaking step to launch herself at them; but Bow's grip on her waist doesn't release.

"This is Scorpia's first ball," he reminds her, and though he tries to turn so his shoulder blocks her view of the pair Catra just rises onto her toes to continue glaring. "And Frosta's been waiting for an excuse to bounce somebody out. Do you really want it to be you?"

She does not, which is why her tail just lashes angrily and why she does not leap over him to scratch out Huntara's eyes. Adora would probably like her in an eyepatch anyway, all rugged and scarred, and--

"I'm gonna kill her." Her claws flex against the metal on Bow's shoulders, and she ignores both the upcoming partner change and Bow's bland "please don't". Until he continues; "'The best revenge is letting go and living well', right? So if you want to get back at them, shouldn't you just focus on having fun?"

He has a point. He definitely has a point, and she hopes he knows his regret is written all over his face when her narrowed eyes turn calculating instead of furious. Their hands move, palm to palm, and then Catra follows the partner swap; turning around and into Perfuma, whose cheeks are already flushed with delight well before Catra's hands slide around her back and down her hip, and who breathes a satisfyingly breathy laugh when Catra dips her with a newly renewed smirk. Adora didn't want to dance with her? Fine. Catra has no issue using those moves on somebody else.

Edited 2020-06-06 23:39 (UTC)

By some lucky streak, Adora's next partner turns out to be Netossa, who also requires little in the way of convincing before going along with Adora's grand plan. Winning the dance seems to strike her as a perfectly sensible goal, and she nods along to it with solemn understanding.

So they flirt, the same way she did with Huntara -- hands a little lower than they ought to be placed, more contact between their bodies than the predominantly austere routine dictates. It's the kind of flirting that's easy to maintain when you're both very much married to other people (and Netossa will undoubtedly lay out this plan before her wife in short order), when you both know it's just a game. She's not even thinking about her hands on Netossa. She's thinking about Catra.

Who's currently trying to make her jealous by dancing with Perfuma, of all people. Please. As if Adora would in a thousand years suspect there's anything going on with those two. Perfuma's got Scorpia, and besides, it's just-- zero chemistry. Catra must think she's so convincing just because she's making Perfuma giggle like that, trailing her tail up her leg--

"Oh," Adora's hands ball into fists in Neotssa's very nice suit, "She's doing the tail thing! That's our thing! Ohh, she's the worst!"

With a sigh, Netossa puts a hand to Adora's cheek and turns her head back to her. "Okay, look, you wanna win this, you have to start looking cool."

"What? What do you mean, I'm not looking cool? These are, like, my smoothest dance moves!"

"I mean, you gotta stop looking back at her every three seconds. That's how she knows she has you."

Adora feels her cheeks puff out with her pout. "I wanna look at her, she's my wife."

"There, there." The reassuring pat of Netossa's hand releases the air from Adora's cheeks. "You'll have plenty of time for it later. Trust me, go five minutes ignoring Catra and she'll launch herself at you like you're a human-sized kitty treat."

Adora's brow furrows as she contemplates this. This is gonna take... a lot of self restraint. But also, she really wants to win the dance.

"Okay. Fine," she concludes, angling her chin up with new resolve. "You know what? You're right. Catra can do whatever she wants. I'm going to have fun dancing."

"Attagirl," Netossa encourages with a clap to her shoulder. "And-- remember, no looking-- but just so you know, her next partner is Sea Hawk. You're definitely winning this."

"Oh!" Adora's eyes go wide, and her shoulders twitch with a giggle of delight. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"It's so nice to see you've unblocked so much of your negative energies!" Perfuma gushes. Catra listens to her with half an ear as she turns her against her chest, and as her tail drags up her leg to wind around her waist in what is not an explicitly forbidden move but is certainly past the point of being decorous. Perfuma just continues to giggle at her, and Catra can smell the bitter-sweet tang of the punch when her head falls back onto her shoulder with a titter.

Her eyes slide along to glance at Adora, who is absolutely looking, and Catra smirks. She can deal with a bit more of Perfuma. (Especially since Adora is with Netossa, who - please. Like Catra was going to be upset by her whispering in Adora's ear, or by her well-tailored and very handsome suit, or by her hand on Adora's cheek--)

(Okay. Maybe she cares a bit about it. It helps that she can see Spinnerella's raised eyebrow as she catches sight of the two of them.)

By the time the partner change comes, Catra can feel some sort of flower that's been magicked into life tucked into the hair by her ear, and it irks her to know that it's there. (Both because her ear can't stop twitching against the foreign feeling, and also because she doesn't want to be wearing anyone else's marks. It might not be a romantic flower, but Catra is incredibly attached to being draped only in Adora's colours.) Still, she lets it stay; even if only because she doesn't get a chance to remove it.

She does not see Sea Hawk coming until she's lifted into the air with an ungracious and loud yelp of surprise. It's not even time for a lift, and the idiot does it by her hips, the flats of his palms firm against the bone, and it's only by the good grace of Horde-honed core muscles that she is able to hold herself up in what is essentially an airborne plank. Most of the others present wouldn't be able to do it, and what exactly was he planning on doing if she couldn't???

"What are you doing?!" She snarls down at him, shrill and tense, tail bushed. It's not her fault when dancers start turning their heads to stare - she's not the one who made his choice.

"Aha!" He sparkles, and winks, and Catra wishes his arms weren't so long so she could smack him. "I'm attempting to garner the attention of my dear Mermista. You see, earlier this evening we--"

"--No," Catra cuts him off, firm and sharp. "No. Absolutely not. I don't care. Put me down!"

"But I--"

"No!" She snaps again, and a light passes over them just in time to gleam off the threat of her claws. And she hates to do this, because she absolutely can take this idiot in a fight, but she still doesn't want to be the one who gets blamed for making a mess or causing injuries at Scorpia's ball. (And Catra, with her history -- she's the easiest to blame when something goes wrong.) So the next furious word out of her mouth is a call for help in the form of "--Adora!". Because if there's ever been a time that she needs a rescue it is right. Now.

Edited 2020-06-07 08:39 (UTC)

Glimmer is next to land in Adora's arms, which further quells Adora's nerves. She's definitely not going to try flirting with her, that would be beyond weird, but it's reassuring to think she's almost definitely going to take her side in this.

"Hi, Glimmer! Listen, I need your help," she says by way of greeting as she spins her around, which Glimmer regards with automatic suspicion.

"My help with what?"

"I need you to tell me what Catra's doing! She's dancing with other people to make me jealous--"

"Per, you know, the ancient rules of the dance?" Glimmer asks flatly, half-turning to lean against Adora's shoulder as they sway.

"--Yes, but she's doing it specifically to make me jealous, so I've decided I'm not looking at her so she knows I don't care. So can you look at her and tell me what she's doing? She's not flirting with Sea Hawk, is she? Because that would be so, so gross."

Glimmer does opt to humor her, though not before leveling Adora with a weary roll of the eyes. As she studies Catra off in the distance behind Adora's shoulder, however, her features curl up with barely-reatrained humor. "Oh, no, definitely not. He-- wow, he is not doing any of this correctly. Are you sure you don't wanna be watching this?"

"No, I'm good. I need her to know I don't care."

"Ooookay then," Glimmer drawls with a lopsided smile, but it quickly drops into a frown as she glances back behind Adora. "--You might wanna be watching this."

Before Adora's able to process the concern in her voice, Catra's cry cuts through the music. With nary a thought, Adora yanks her arms from around Glimmer, and rushes through the row of dancers, decorum be damned. A chorus of gasps accompanies her hurried footsteps, and she's pretty sure she elbows someone in the face in her haste, barely finding the time to utter 'sorry'.

With Catra within reach at last, she snaps her up and out of Sea Hawk's hold, cradling her to her chest with both arms the way one would a particularly large baby. There's clear distress written over Catra's features, and any frustration or anger Adora has been feeling is instantaneously refocused on Sea Hawk. "What did you do to her?!"

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