ᴄᴀᴛʀᴀ ʀᴀɪɴʙᴏᴡꜰɪꜱᴛ-ᴍᴇᴏᴡᴍᴇᴏᴡ (hisses) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-04-19 21:09:00 |
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Catra’s feelings about The Fright Zone materializing out of literally nothing were a mixed bag, at best. It wasn’t as if she was feeling particularly depressed about it or anything. The place was everything she’d known for most of her life; the metallic scent of steel and burning odors, the cold floors, beeps of technology like white noise in the background. Home was what it once was, where she and Adora grew up and became them - attached to the hip, hand in hand, promises made. Home is what it stopped being the day Adora so infamously defected. All it turned into was a metal pit of memories, the terrible ones outweighing the good she had so desperately clung to during her younger years but it was everything she had ever known. Leaving didn’t seem viable. Catra was sure there was no place for her elsewhere, anyway - it was a horrible place meant for horrible people, and she was a horrible person. It was everything she was raised to be, so why not finally embrace it? So, yeah. Complicated couldn’t even begin to cover it, not when she couldn’t ever fully bring herself to hate it when it was the reason Adora was ever in her life to begin with. They had come here in spurts. Spending long days on this slab of land that housed the place they grew up in was something they actively tried to avoid in attempts to, uh - keep them from getting too lost in their own heads? It was entirely too easy to send either of them or both spiraling out of guilt from different directions, and that had been Catra’s main concern about Adora tagging along. The guilt. Seeing this as simply work was the best way for her to process and get through sorting out what all was here, taking inventory of weaponry and tanks and making sure certain aspects of the structure were deactivated. Catra knew everything, every twist and turn and change done in the past three years because she had been running it. Compartmentalizing it as business was easy. For Adora to be here again after so long, though - it had to be weird. It was weird, she was sure of it. With a datapad in hand, she veered off towards the barracks to confirm the number of beds despite her knowing the exact number. Empty bunks with hard pillows and scratchy blankets, to collect dust? God, what a fucking waste. Really, this whole place was a waste but it was her waste to deal with. “Hey,” Catra blinked, the clicks and clacks of her clawd toes calming to a halt once she caught a glimpse of blonde. “What are you doing here? I thought you were checking on ration bar inventory and their expiration dates.” The Fright Zone’s presence in Vallo brought up almost overwhelmingly bad feelings for Adora. It had been home once. For eighteen years, this place was all she had ever known. She was aware of life outside of it, mostly of the supposed evil princesses that were fucking over Etheria, but that world outside of reports from higher-ups had been a mystery to her. She wouldn’t say she loved this place, but there were memories attached to it — good, bad, and everything in between. Missing ones, too, that she would probably never get back. Only wisps of them existed now, niggling in the back of her mind. But for the most part, when they were here, she was drowning in guilt and this feeling of heaviness. She had left this place, left Catra behind to suffer at Shadow Weaver’s hands when she should have known better. It didn’t matter that Catra had chosen not to come with her, multiple times. She had left her, when she’d promised she never would, and no matter how far they’d come from that point, she doubted she would ever stop feeling terrible for that. When they were here (and they were careful about how often they were here because they were both well aware of each other’s suffering as much as their own), she compartmentalized. She repressed. She pulled every mental trick on herself she could think of to keep from having to truly deal with any of those feelings. Working was the best way to get through. She let Catra assign her task after task, and she played to her strengths, completing each of them to perfection. Today, she’d gotten sidetracked. Counting ration bars, while probably a necessity, was mind-numbingly boring. And this place had gotten the best of her. Her mind had started drifting, and next thing she knew, she had dropped the ration bars in her lap and decided to indulge the weird urge to explore the rundown old place. Some kind of autopilot kicked in when she started moving, sending her right down the familiar path to the barracks, then to the old bunk she’d shared with Catra. That was where she was sitting when Catra found her, on the very edge of her bunk where her girlfriend used to curl around her feet and fall asleep more nights than she could count. They slept cuddled up quite a bit, too, but there was something extra adorable about those little cat-like mannerisms when she fell into them. “Sorry.” Adora flashed her girlfriend a distracted smile and reached out for her hand. “Just…got distracted, I guess.” “I see that,” Catra frowned, setting the datapad aside as there were more pressing matters to attend to now - as in, Adora. Occupying that bunk, the old one. Her own was right above hers, but truthfully she had no business in the barracks after she’d been promoted to Force Captain. Her quarters had been private (one of the many perks), walls enduring three years worth of gashes from frustrations and sleepless nights. Their hands met, of course (as if she’d ever let that linger) and the gap between them was closed, knees knocking into hers. “What brought you in here, anyway? I was coming in to confirm count and see if I could figure out what the hell to do with all these pillows and blankets. Not like they’re worth donating - everyone here’s too spoiled for shitty bedding.” Her other hand went to play with her ponytail. Idle gestures, gentle with how she would curl strands around her finger. Adora shrugged one shoulder, turning to meet Catra’s gaze. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It was kind of automatic.” There hadn’t been any conscious thought put into it that she could put her finger on. She’d just come here, like she had every day for years on end. “I haven’t seen it in a long time.” She’d been here since defecting but never back to the barracks. Not for any particular reason, it just - hadn’t been necessary. It still wasn’t, really, but there was nothing keeping her away anymore. Not that it looked any different. She didn’t know why a part of her had expected it would. If there was one place in the world that was forever unchanging, even in Vallo, it was the Fright Zone. Catra dipped her head low, pressing her lips against her forehead and letting them linger there. “It’s okay,” she whispered. Couldn’t really blame her for it - she had wandered these halls plenty, existed in them longer and the storm of feelings she felt about it wasn’t anything new. This was the most Adora’s been in the Fright Zone since before her switch. They could stay like this, though - if she wanted to just sit there and kind of process whatever was going in her head? No rush necessary. Catra even began purring, gently, hoping it would hush her concerns but when her eyes casually lifted, and she saw colored lines and jagged slashes up towards the head of the bed - Oh. Oh fuck. The purring stuttered to a stop. Even she had forgotten about it, time had passed and she forced herself to bury it down like everything else. “Hey, um -” Catra swallowed nervously. “Let’s go somewhere else more comfortable? We can go to our spot, if you want.” Catra’s purring had its usual effect on Adora — it helped her racing mind settle and the tension she was constantly carrying started to melt out of her back and shoulders. She bowed her head and let her eyes drift shut, her grip on her girlfriend’s hand tightening. She still didn’t know exactly what was going through her mind, but getting to sit here and just be felt good. She lifted her head when Catra’s purrs abruptly stopped and she seemed to switch gears from calm and comforting to oddly nervous in short order. Her brows furrowed and she nodded slowly. “I mean, you know I won’t say no to that. But what happened? You look a little freaked out. Is something wrong?” If only she knew how the fuck to proceed from this. Catra was mentally coming up with obscenely creative curses but whatever, not like that would help her current dilemma anyway. Figures that coaxing Adora elsewhere would spur her suspicion though, and now she was caught between a rock and a hard place. The last thing she wanted to do though was be deliberately deceiving because fuck that, that wasn’t fair to her. But was the kindest way of going about this showing Adora - that? Catra sighed, deeply. This wasn’t a topic she was prepared to broach, though at this point there was no turning back. “Turn around,” she whispered regretfully, unspooling that ponytail of hers from her fingers and just - taking a small step back, giving Adora a fair amount of space. That look in Catra’s eyes, the sigh, the tone of her voice when she spoke — Adora was worried. She didn’t like seeing Catra so obviously hurting and conflicted, and she would be turning to face something unpleasant, something that might upset her. But she did what she was told and turned around, her eyes instantly landing on the old drawing on the wall. Her heart clenched. After falling asleep next to that drawing every night for a good decade, if not longer, she had every line memorized. She remembered the day Catra had first drawn them, the two of them trying to keep their giggles quiet and keep from waking their classmates in the room. It was the deep, angry scratch marks across her own little cartoon face that were new, at least to her. She could guess how they’d come about and the reason why, but that didn’t stop the stab of pain tearing into her chest. “Hey,” she said, shifting down the bed and extending her hand to Catra again. “C’mere. Come tell me what happened? Please?” This type of heavy talk was what they were trying to dodge, cutting their hours short - but it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? Them talking about this place and all the ghosts that haunted it. “What do you think happened?” came her scoffed out reply, at least void of ice. Catra joined her after the reluctant pause melted away. The mattress was stiff, but dipped at the added weight and she settled in next to Adora for a front-row view of her masterpiece. Time had faded the colors, but it did nothing to close the thin rows of split steel from her claws. “You weren’t coming back. I got mad.” Maybe it’d be too dramatic to mention how she’d torn up the bed, punched the pillow, scratched up the blanket, then kept the blanket. “I got promoted, was given my own room and I never thought about this again.” If there was a cadet that eventually moved into the bed, she couldn’t tell you. Nor did she care. This was the one thing of theirs Catra was able to leave behind - the bed they shared (against orders), and this childish wall scribble she had drawn for both of them. She never thought she would see it again. She definitely never thought Adora would. Adora knew she’d hurt Catra. She knew running off to be with the Rebellion had been a betrayal and that had, of course, been taken personally. It hadn’t been meant that way, and she’d wanted Catra to come with her, but intention didn’t matter in these circumstances. She had caused her best friend in the world so much pain — this much pain, clearly, now carved into the wall forever. She wondered if anyone else had seen it after Catra’s promotion. Force Captain came with the perk of private quarters, and there were always new cadets coming up. It was entirely possible. She couldn’t begin to imagine what someone else would see when they saw this. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know we, uh - we’ve gone through this. But I’m truly sorry I ever made you feel…this.” She reached out, hesitantly running her index finger over the edge of one deep claw mark. “I never meant to leave you.” In turn, Catra hated how this made her feel - didn’t matter how much Adora repressed everything, even the smallest amount of guilt seeping out from under that closed lid was enough to suffocate her. “Adora,” she warned gently, reaching over to close her fingers over her wrist. “Don’t. It’s not like I haven’t made you feel shitty things, either.” It wasn’t her fault that Catra just - didn’t know how to handle it, didn’t know the right way to love her at that time without hurting her. And maybe it was a bit hypocritical of her to ask her to stop apologizing when she still had her moments of doing that, considering her list of regrets was a lot longer and a lot more severe, but. God, was talking about this ever going to get easier? Adora couldn’t really argue with that. The war had done its damage, but even before then, she had been thoughtless at times and said things she didn’t mean and regretted. The list of things she regretted when it came to Catra, if she ever sat down to make it, would be far too long. She could apologize as much as she wanted, dwell in it all until it consumed her. It wouldn’t change what had happened. She knew that, logically, but logic wasn’t enough to stop the influx of shitty feelings when the gate opened. “We should keep this,” she said, letting her hand drop and turning to face Catra again. She intertwined their fingers again and squeezed. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to say that. Just looking at it caused such visceral feelings, but — it felt right, to keep it. “It’s important, you know?” That was a request Catra hadn’t expected. Her brows briefly shot up, eyes blinking away from Adora’s to look back at that. This piece of their history that they’d both left behind, popping up to remind them of what they had, what they lost. It was an innocence they couldn’t reclaim, and while what her claws had left behind were rage, those lines she had drawn with a permanent marker they’d stolen from an officer were put there out of love. “If you want,” she acquiesced, knowing her request wouldn’t be a difficult one to fulfill. Catra could easily carve that piece of metal from the bunk to take back with them. Where it would go - eh, she’d leave that up to Adora. “I can always draw us a new one too. Bigger. On Darla.” Their fingers didn’t stay laced long. She pulled them free, only to drape an arm over her shoulders and pull her close up into her side. Adora needed reassurance, something to relay what they’d been saying to each other often now - no more grudges. Adora’s eyebrows shot up next. She had expected that request to be more of a fight. This wasn’t just some random odd or end, and it clearly held some pain no matter how much love the original drawing had come from. She wouldn’t have blamed Catra if she said she didn’t want it and refused. But she knew better than to try to press when she got a yes so easily. Better to just be grateful. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll find a place for it.” She wrapped her arm around Catra’s waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “And I won’t say no to a new one. On the wall next to our bed?” She wouldn’t mind that one bit. Catra’s drawings always made her smile. Even now, a pinch of her guilt was eased by the part of her that felt happy and hopeful despite the slash marks across her little cartoon face. Catra wasn’t the biggest fan of the idea - bringing this scrap of metal with a sad excuse of art back home with them - but if Adora wanted to, then that’s the only reason she needed to agree with it. It might be weird to see, though she was sure in time she’d get over it. Not the worst thing to ever happen. “I’ll do that then,” she whispered, mentally adding that to her to do list - and that task suddenly took priority over the rest, she’d work on even getting the paint for it tonight. Catra intended to make it mural-sized. This one would be tweaked a bit to reflect how they were now, and there’d be no gashes marring it. “Okay, princess - do me a favor and get off the bunk?” Her lips pressed against her temple into a kiss. “I’ll cut this thing out but I wanna make sure you don’t get hit by shrapnel or anything.” “Oh. Sure.” Again, Adora hadn’t expected her to jump right up and want to do this now, but she didn’t protest. One of the best, most badass parts of Catra’s Magicat physiology were those claws. They were literally weapons in battle and still super useful even in situations like this. Slicing out a piece of steel wall with those things would be nothing to her. She slid off the bunk, stepping back a couple more feet to be extra cautious. She would have to get Catra to stop off with her and get some kind of mount or frame for this so they could put it up on Darla. She liked the idea of being able to see it every day, this visual representation of the progress they were making. Yep, it was happening now. Catra cracked her fingers, flexed her claws and tapped on the steel to kind of study it. Nothing particularly thick, and it’d be easy to slice through once she applied some force into it. Her feline body did a little wiggle, shifting to brace herself on her knees - her tail was slow and rhythmic, as if she was on the hunt about to pounce. The worst part of the process was the screech that yielded once her claws met steel (it made her own ears flatten against her head, yikes). She did her best to make sure it didn’t last long, and with a soft grunt and eventual yank, she was able to slice out the square piece that held the little doodle. “Before I give this to you,” Catra started, twisting around on the mattress to gravely look at Adora with the metallic plate pressed into her chest. “You have to promise me you’ll try not to - I don’t know, beat yourself up every time you see it? I don’t want this to hurt you.” Adora pressed her lips together, a small smile pulling at the corners. Catra knew her too well; this was exactly the kind of thing that could easily send her into continual downward spirals. But somehow - it didn’t? There was guilt, of course. She hated to see the glaring physical evidence of how hurt and betrayed Catra had been when she left. She hated knowing she had been the cause of that. But she didn’t intend to bring this home for any sort of self-flagellation. Those marks represented more than just hurt. That kind of hurt wasn’t possible without some pretty intense love behind it. That’s what Adora found herself drawn to more than anything. Looking at it somehow made her heart ache and feel lighter all at the same time. Adora stepped forward again, putting one knee up on the bed and leaning in to press her forehead to her girlfriend’s. “I promise,” she agreed solemnly, lifting a hand to cup Catra’s cheek. “I can’t say I won’t feel guilty sometimes or that it doesn’t hurt a little, but it’s earned hurt. And it’s important for us. Or me, at least. I mean that.” Catra’s sign of relent was that heavy exhale from her nose, a quick succession of nods following suit. She believed her, trusted that she wouldn’t tear herself down over this. It wasn’t unlike the deal with the scars ripped into Adora’s back - time lessened the self-loathing every time she saw them (which was often with how comfortable they were with nudity), and her girlfriend’s surprising scratch kink had kind of helped with that too. Her tail went around Adora’s thigh, and her head moved to kind of bump into her chin and face and - yes, she was scent marking her, piss off. “If you’re sure,” Catra purred softly, freeing one hand to slide up her stomach and knead at her shirt. “And if we’re bringing back some childhood memorabilia, um - your blanket. I kept it.” It might have a few holes in it from her claws, but it was in her quarters. She had checked earlier. “Really?” For a moment, Adora couldn’t imagine that being true. The Horde-provided blankets given to the cadets weren’t exactly known for being soft and comfy. They were scratchy, not long enough as they grew older and taller, and hardly combatted the cold on their best nights. Not that she had any complaints — she ran hot, and even when she was cold, she’d always had Catra as her own personal fur blanket, purring beside her and curling into her chest on the bad nights. But it made sense when she thought about it. She’d had the same blanket basically her whole life. It probably smelled like her, and Catra had always been big on smells. Having that piece of her while she was gone, Adora could understand how that would be a comfort. And since they’d started dating, she was constantly being covered in Catra’s scent, more now than throughout their childhood. If it helped her feel safe, it was okay with Adora. She actually kind of loved being marked that way. “Do you want to bring that home with us, too? We can take whatever you want. I know we’ve kind of just been - working because it’s a lot, but there’s good things here. If I can take the wall, I mean - we can take anything you want, too.” It was embarrassing to admit. Fucking pathetic, too, if she were to be honest - Catra had kept it for the scent. There were times she wanted to shred it to ribbons, or toss it into the incinerator so it could be reduced to nothing but ash (much like their relationship at the time) and yet, it remained. In tact for the most part. Draped over her bed, the one she shared with no one. It took months for it to stop smelling like Adora. “Compared to what we’re used to now it’s way too uncomfortable,” she chuckled, a tight hoarseness to the sound with how constricted her throat felt - not that she was on the verge of tears, it was just weird to talk about it. There were some good things here. Reconciling with that wasn’t always easy, that a place that caused them so much harm could hold such old comforts. “I guess we can. Just to have it around.” “Anything you want,” Adora insisted, pressing kisses across Catra’s nose and cheeks. “Really.” She smiled again, quick and small, just a reassurance. She knew her girlfriend. This wasn’t easy for either of them, but it was harder for Catra. Adora had gotten away, but she had stayed here, angry and doing things she regretted now. It was hard to believe there could be any kind of good here when it felt like such a bad place. “What do you think, ultimately, we should do with this place?” she asked, shifting to sit on the bed again. She held out her hands, offering to take the piece of wall out of Catra’s hands so she could sit, too. “It’s an entire island here, and I feel like it would be a waste to let it sit?” Not that she had any clue what to do with an entire island herself, but maybe they could make something good from it, somehow. Catra went from her knees back to a regular sit, not without pressing some part of her against Adora. This time she was leaning, not completely done with the nuzzling and scenting - though now it was muted, a little more subtle. “Beyond what we’ve talked about, I don’t really know?” They had plans for the weapons, the tanks, the other modes of transport as they could come in handy the next time shit inevitably hits the fan. As for the actual place itself, Catra was at a loss. “It’s practically a junkyard. People can use what’s in here for scrap, that’s fine with me. I don’t want it, but I know I’m responsible for it.” “It’s not all on you,” Adora replied swiftly. She knew Catra had decided this was her burden and hers alone, and maybe it should be. But Adora had insisted it would not all fall on her shoulders and she was holding firm on that. If she wasn’t allowed to overburden herself, neither was Catra. They had both grown up here, expected to spend the rest of their lives here and rule from here someday, together. She felt responsibility for taking care of it, too. If all Catra wanted to do was clean up and wash her hands of it, though, that was fine with Adora. People could use it for campgrounds or on those boat sex tours (or whatever it was Isabela had talked about when she’d first found the place). They could take everything important, and the rest of it? Not much of a loss. “Sorry I got distracted. I can finish off the ration bar counting, then we can go home, if you want?” That would be long enough for one day. Being present here in small doses was working for them so far. She preferred avoiding the prickly feeling of discomfort that followed being here too long. Adora’s statement of it not being all on her caused a brief pause on those gentle nuzzles, letting the words sink in because she was right - it wasn’t. Catra wasn’t alone in this, and she found herself wrapping around one of her girlfriend’s arms as a way to relay the words of I know to her. “I’ll do it with you,” she offered, blinking up at her with soft eyes. Before this she was in work mode and now she felt kinda clingy. Like she didn’t want to let Adora out of her sight, and with the two of them combined they could knock out that task quickly and leave the rest for the next visit. “Then home? I can pick up some paint at the store, too. For our new picture.” “Yeah,” Adora agreed with a gentle grin. “We can go to that arts and crafts place - whatever it’s called.” The name escaped her, but after a few seconds, she shook her head a bit; it didn’t really matter. Once they got Darla grounded again, they could pop over there pretty quickly by waypoint and get what they needed. She could probably find the mount and frame she was wanting there, too, and pick up everything in one go. “I love you.” She dipped her head to give Catra a kiss Catra’s, squeezing their joined arms tight and letting their lips linger for a little while before pulling back just enough; and what she said next totally bypassed her brain-to-mouth filter. “Can you imagine doing this with Shadow Weaver lurking?” The sound Catra let out was akin to a mirthless cackle. “I can, actually - I’d give her the finger while shoving my tongue down your throat now,” she remarked crudely, rolling her eyes. Shadow Weaver would always be a sore spot for her but as for fearing the woman - that feeling had fizzled for her the moment she severed her connection to the Black Garnet. Turns out the hag was nothing more than a parasite trying to feed off sources of magic to claim as her own and the few tricks that were hers weren’t anything Catra was a stranger to. Now she’d just actively work on breaking that mask to gauge her eyes out before she tried any of her dark sorcery shit. Get some revenge from all the times she decidedly went into Adora’s brain and blot out moments that would have made their relationship take a different turn. “It does kind of feel like she could pop up at any minute though,” Catra admitted with a short-lived paranoid lookaround of the barracks before nuzzling into her shoulder again. “We could do whatever we wanted in here and - not get in trouble for it? Huh. Never thought I’d see the day.” “Kind of freeing, right?” Adora kissed the top of her head before pressing her nose against her ear, breathing her in. It was nice to be able to show Catra affection without any fear of Shadow Weaver showing up. They’d gotten away with it a bit as kids but less so as they’d gotten into their teenage years. The old witch had become particularly belligerent when the two of them got too close around then — probably part of what inspired the mind wiping Catra had told her about. “Did I ever get to kiss you - like, uh, really kiss you - back then?” she asked quietly. She hadn’t really broached this topic since St. Patrick’s Day, but being here again, actually discussing the past a bit, it made her wonder. She had no idea how much had really been taken from her, but she assumed something like this would have one of those things. Oh, it was very freeing, knowing she could make Adora hers in literally every part of The Fright Zone and not face consequences for it. Which - hm, could be a project to work on with how insanely attracted she was to her girlfriend. Catra wouldn’t rule it out for the future. “Nah,” she sighed, switching from rubbing her face against her to kisses - lazy, chaste ones that made their way to the side of her neck. “We were always headed there. Like, there was this one where we had the showers to ourselves? That was our closest one, I think. The dressing room kiss holds the award for our first one though.” “Oh good,” Adora breathed, visibly relieved. She’d loved that first dressing room kiss, and she would have hated to think she’d had another first kiss with Catra that she couldn’t remember. Having any memories taken from her at all was hard. It broke her heart to think she’d lost any intimate moments with Catra to Shadow Weaver’s pettiness, but she could deal. She didn’t have much choice. She let out a hum, letting her eyes fall closed and tilting her neck back for more kisses. “I guess we should get back to work, right? Get this over with so we can go home.” Catra huffed a laugh, warm breath expelled against the skin of her throat. Her arm went around her in case getting spoiled with kisses got Adora so lazy she toppled over. “Not sure if you’re in the mood for work?” she smirked. That expressive tail went on the move, grazing up her side. Then, she thought of something. Maybe it was a dumb idea. Maybe it wasn’t - but maybe she’d want to know, to see if it would pull a flash or two of what she’d lost from the depths of her mind. Assuming that those memories were there all along, and Shadow Weaver was full of shit claiming that they were one hundred percent gone. “We can - um, I can show you where the other times happened, if you want.” Adora may never get them back, but maybe she could walk her through what happened. Adora’s eyes fluttered open again and she studied Catra for a moment with creased brows. The idea was appealing, but from what Catra had told her, she wasn’t sure getting her memories back was possible. Shadow Weaver had erased every trace of them — or at least that was what she’d told Catra. It could be a lie, something she’d said to torture Catra and stop her from even trying to trigger those memories again. It was always hard to tell when it came to her. “Do you really think - would that even work?” she questioned uncertainly. “I mean, we can try. I’m willing to, but I don’t want to get your hopes up. Or, uh. Or mine.” Because she would. She knew herself well enough to know that. She would go to all these places hoping for some random flash that was just as likely as it was unlikely. She didn’t want to feel disappointed if it didn’t go the way they wanted. “I don’t have any real expectations,” Catra admitted with a shrug. Not erasing them completely seemed like a sloppy move on Shadow Weaver’s part - she wouldn’t want to risk the chance of them returning, shattering Adora’s devoted respect. But on the other hand? It was also just entirely possible the woman was saying shit to get under her skin, remove every tiny flicker of hope that could exist in her because that’s what she did. Tear them down, snuff out any light they could ever have. Separating herself from Adora, she rose off the bed and to her feet and offered her a hand. “I would think that if there was a way for them to come back naturally, they would have by now. But like I said before - they’re your memories too. At least you’ll know what happened each time. You deserve to know the details, and where they happened even if it sucks. It’s up to you. Or we can call it a night, go home.” Adora gazed down at the detached piece of wall in her hand for a moment, stroked the edge of a claw mark with her thumb, then reached out to wrap her free hand around the hand Catra had offered her. “Okay,” she agreed. If there were no expectations, she could deal with that. She wanted to hear the stories, even if she couldn’t remember experiencing them. “Show me what I’m missing.” |