The chill that runs down Adora's spine is almost as unpleasant as everything else Catra's done to her today. She's used to all eyes being on her as She-Ra, but not in a negative sense--now, every person she's helped, every ally by her side, feels like a potential enemy. The Horde training and paranoia she's spent years trying to unlearn comes roaring back all at once, making her second guess every decision she's made until now. How long has this been going on? Days, weeks, months? Does it matter? If this person, this spy, could be anyone in the Rebellion, how can she even trust the likes of Bow and Glimmer anymore?
No. Whatever this is, she's not going to let it keep her from her friends. She'd rather trust and suffer the consequences, than live her life doubting the people she loves. That's the difference between her and Catra, between assuming the best about people, instead of the worst. Sometimes you get hurt, but you can't let it stop you from reaching out again. Not until the other person is completely beyond your grasp.
"Okay," she nods, swallowing down the choked sob rising in her throat. "If that's really what you want."
Adora knows what Catra is asking for--or at least, she's pretty sure she does. This self-destructive mess that she's become, the way she fought when Adora challenged her before, the hatred in her eyes; that's who Catra is now. Adora has to accept it. Has accepted it, outside these brief moments where they're face to face again, and she can't help searching for something, anything, more like the friend she once knew, even if she never finds it. Even if she never will.
She grabs hold of Catra above her exposed chest window, hands tensing in the fabric of her new outfit, ready to flip their positions. To take back control, physically, the only way she knows, has ever been good at. Instead, she pulls Catra close, kissing her with as much longing packed in as she thinks she can get away with. The way she's always wanted to, even if she didn't realize it until now. Almost an apology, whether or not Catra cares to hear it, or understands somewhere deep in her broken heart.
Then Adora does push her off, stumbling to her feet, and the sudden rush of adrenaline-given power makes her feel sick, even if Catra just shredded her clothes and skin and would do far, far worse if she knew the truth. Would kill her, but not before breaking her spirit, the kind of punishment the Horde reserves for its greatest enemies. (She has no problem bearing that particular title. It's being Catra's greatest enemy that hurts her.) All with the same look on her face; that awful, twisted expression back at the Battle of Bright Moon, that Adora had nightmares about for weeks afterward.
Imagining that bleak future, Catra sneering at her sobbing friends, awakens an anger in Adora that she wishes she could blame on the acting but is, in fact, all too real. With one hand, she reaches down to yank Catra onto her feet, barely noticing how much lighter she feels now, how fragile she is. She shoves her back onto the crate, pressing down with her whole body weight, not giving any chance for Catra to repeat her reversal from before, and rips her uniform open from collar to waist. The same way she'd done to Adora, only with brute strength instead of claws, and without tearing her apart afterward--just fisting her hands in Catra's fur to hold her still as she kisses her again, this time looking to dominate her opponent.
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No. Whatever this is, she's not going to let it keep her from her friends. She'd rather trust and suffer the consequences, than live her life doubting the people she loves. That's the difference between her and Catra, between assuming the best about people, instead of the worst. Sometimes you get hurt, but you can't let it stop you from reaching out again. Not until the other person is completely beyond your grasp.
"Okay," she nods, swallowing down the choked sob rising in her throat. "If that's really what you want."
Adora knows what Catra is asking for--or at least, she's pretty sure she does. This self-destructive mess that she's become, the way she fought when Adora challenged her before, the hatred in her eyes; that's who Catra is now. Adora has to accept it. Has accepted it, outside these brief moments where they're face to face again, and she can't help searching for something, anything, more like the friend she once knew, even if she never finds it. Even if she never will.
She grabs hold of Catra above her exposed chest window, hands tensing in the fabric of her new outfit, ready to flip their positions. To take back control, physically, the only way she knows, has ever been good at. Instead, she pulls Catra close, kissing her with as much longing packed in as she thinks she can get away with. The way she's always wanted to, even if she didn't realize it until now. Almost an apology, whether or not Catra cares to hear it, or understands somewhere deep in her broken heart.
Then Adora does push her off, stumbling to her feet, and the sudden rush of adrenaline-given power makes her feel sick, even if Catra just shredded her clothes and skin and would do far, far worse if she knew the truth. Would kill her, but not before breaking her spirit, the kind of punishment the Horde reserves for its greatest enemies. (She has no problem bearing that particular title. It's being Catra's greatest enemy that hurts her.) All with the same look on her face; that awful, twisted expression back at the Battle of Bright Moon, that Adora had nightmares about for weeks afterward.
Imagining that bleak future, Catra sneering at her sobbing friends, awakens an anger in Adora that she wishes she could blame on the acting but is, in fact, all too real. With one hand, she reaches down to yank Catra onto her feet, barely noticing how much lighter she feels now, how fragile she is. She shoves her back onto the crate, pressing down with her whole body weight, not giving any chance for Catra to repeat her reversal from before, and rips her uniform open from collar to waist. The same way she'd done to Adora, only with brute strength instead of claws, and without tearing her apart afterward--just fisting her hands in Catra's fur to hold her still as she kisses her again, this time looking to dominate her opponent.