Catra and Adora head over to the Fright Zone to do some more cleaning and talk about
Shadow Weaver.
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Language; mentions of abuse & manipulation from a parental figure; talk of death
2. 4. 8. 2. 4.
It was a numerical sequence that spelled out BITCH on their Horde issued datapads - and a carefully hand-selected password by yours truly after she had severed a certain someoneâs connection to the Black Garnet. âI made this a restricted area,â Catra mumbled, the number pad lighting up into that vibrant green once her claws tapped at the respective buttons. Then -
ACCESS GRANTED. The doors hissed open, revealing a room shrouded by almost pitch-black darkness.
Visits to the Fright Zone had no recreational value. It was always to do something, like finalizing a complete inventory list of all the stashed weapons; what tech could possibly be useful for whatever reason, what was considered trash, perishable foods and so forth. Accomplishing these tasks took time thanks to the sheer size of this place, plus it was best to space out the visits for their own sanity. There was too much guilt that dwelled in these metal halls - a mixed bag of good memories and bad, and oftentimes the bad haunted them a lot more prominently.
Catra tried not to simmer in it. It was easy for her to compartmentalize anyway. These walls were too familiar; they were a steel cage she had tried to pass off as her home in frantic delusion. It was the evil she never knew how to leave because it was the evil she at least knew. Back on Etheria it was probably covered in lush greenery and floating magic spores thanks to She-Ra unleashing the planetâs magic. In Vallo, it was still empty, hollow and dank.
But, hey. On the bright side, it smelled somewhat better now that the machines were shut off and the pollution had been cleared. If they climbed up to their spot theyâd have a nice view of the ocean and surrounding islands. That was a neat improvement.
âIâve come in here a few times but not in -â Catra flipped a switch on the wall and there, light. They buzzed to life and flickered briefly. âA long while.â
It was an office they were in. An old one. Things had been tossed - there was a cabinet ripped out of the desk, some papers scattered, boxes thrown. Gash marks from claws here and there. Shadow Weaver had kept her space tidy, and back when Catra was fueled by rage and spite she reveled in ruining it when she took on the position as second-in-command. There were supposed to be some helpful files she was supposed to take for her, uh, promotion but it was easy to see that she may have gotten carried away with a fit of destruction.
Ha ha ha. Yikes.
Weird to be here, though. Like this - with Adora. A little older, neither of them in Horde-issued uniforms. Catra was in ripped jeans and a tank top with one of Adoraâs flannel shirts, hair pulled back into a fairly tame braid. Her fingers went to the back of her neck, idly tracing the scar the chip had left behind. It was her only visible one. âMost personnel files were removed and eventually digitized because Entrapta insisted the paper trail was pointless. I didnât give her our original ones.â
Coming to the Fright Zone was never something Adora particularly wanted to do. For the most part, she preferred to act as if it didnât exist. It was this odd, out-of-place piece of Etheria that didnât belong anywhere near Vallo. Even now that it was no longer polluting the air around it (thanks, Vanya), having it here was uncomfortable at best. Sheâd have liked some sort of âreturn to senderâ button, but that wasnât the possibility.
So, slowly, they were working on clearing it out. Very sporadically lately, too; the last time theyâd been here was well before even Ancient Vallo. They may have some good memories here from childhood, but the bad, guilty feelings overwhelmed her. Just stepping inside made Adora feel heavier, like she was fighting against crushing physical pressure. Staying too long wasnât good for either one of them.
This visit was bound to be a little lengthier than some, if only because theyâd neglected stopping in for so long. Getting Shadow Weaverâs office cleaned up had been her idea for this round. It was perhaps the most ominous task they needed to complete because of their shitty histories with her, both shared and individual. Adora was hoping to be able to set aside her feelings as much as possible and get through it without getting emotional â no easy feat. But once it was out of the way, everything they had left would be a snap in comparison, right?
When she stepped into that office and saw the mess Catra had made of it (fair, honestly, knowing the circumstances and what Shadow Weaver had done), dread sunk into the pit of her stomach. If Shadow Weaver could see this place â gods, she could already envision the results after years of witnessing how harshly sheâd treated Catra. She may have died for them in the end, but it was difficult not to remember all theyâd suffered through with her before.
âOkay, well.â Time to get into business mode â she clapped her hands together before tucking a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. (Wearing it half down was still a novelty and she was constantly brushing wild hairs out of her face.) âShould be able to make this quick then, yeah? Itâs not like we need any of these files anymore.â She didnât foresee any of their former fellow Horde soldiers turning up in Vallo, and if they did, they would handle it then. âIâll start with the desk?â
It was kind of, um. Unsettling to be here. Thatâs the word. Like this office was cursed, or haunted or - whatever. They were going through a dead womanâs things. Old things, since she hadnât occupied this workspace since before Catra orchestrated the assault on Bright Moon three years back. Entrapta was probably the only other person that knew the passcode into this room and thatâs only because she could hack into the lock and figure out the numbers. As if sheâd give that information to just anyone willingly.
âIâll start with the filing cabinets,â she sighed, nose scrunched up because ughhhhh. âIâm pretty sure she kept ours separate from the rest. Thatâs what I remember anyway, I donât know exactly where they were.â
All she knew was that she hadnât destroyed them or anything. Incinerating them had been tempting, though. Why not let written records of their history turn to ash - she was sure the instances where Adoraâs memories had been wiped were listed, and Catraâs endless list of defiant encounters (along with her punishments) probably created a fat stack of papers. That wasnât anything anyone else needed to know or concern themselves with.
So to the cabinets she walked towards. âWe should bone in here,â she tacked on so conversationally one would think she was discussing what dinner was going to be that night. âThe desk seems sturdy.â
Catra was joking. Mostly. Anything to distract them from the giant elephant in the room.
Adora wouldnât be surprised if their files were kept back somewhere. Shadow Weaver had always taken a very special interest in the two of them despite mentoring (and she used that term very loosely) what had to have been hundreds of cadets over the years. She had never treated them terribly well â sheâd been downright abusive to them both in different ways â but she had still been the closest thing to a mother either of them had known growing up.
She started with the surface of the desk, gathering up a pile of scattered papers to start going through. She flashed Catra an amused smile and rolled her eyes at her suggestion. She knew it was a joke, but even if it wasnât, it would never have happened. She had entertained the idea of having sex in the barracks, but it hadnât happened. Yet, anyway.
âYouâre just insatiable,â she bantered back. âI donât want her cursing us from beyond the grave for defiling her office.â She knew that probably wasnât actually a possibility, but â well, this whole situation had her feeling a little on edge.
âYeah, well.â Catra let out an exaggerated sigh, the exhale blowing her bangs more to the side. âLet her try. Iâd argue thereâs not much beyond the grave to begin with.â
A bit grim to bring up, but technically she had also died (briefly) and there hadnât been some epiphany of an afterlife waiting for her. It was just⊠nothingness. Cold, empty. Maybe people who werenât so shitty in their waking lives had it differently. But even a cold, empty afterlife of nothingness was a kindness that goddamn woman didnât deserve.
Back to the task at hand though, which was sifting through an array of folders with her pointed fingers. Catra had done a fan-fucking-tastic job not thinking much about Shadow Weaverâs fate ever since theyâd woken up knowing the war was won and Etheria was saved - she didnât want to mess up that streak too badly. âI think this oneâs just all old mission reports,â she frowned. âDated from way before we were even on the field.â
Onward to the next drawer. Catra shut that one, opened the other and instead of physical files she discovered a spare set of robes - red like wine, neatly folded. Just the one.
It was completely innocuous, and logically she supposed it wouldnât hurt to keep a spare set of clothes in an office for whatever reason but she hadnât expected to see it, was the thing. All Catra could do was stare, dumbfounded, and blink.
Adora decided against engaging in an afterlife conversation without comment. It was a complicated topic and one many people apparently had many different thoughts on from what she knew. She was tempted to argue because she had a feeling she knew where Catraâs mind had gone. But â one thing at a time here. Shadow Weaver had a tendency to consume her mind all on her own.
She kept focused on her task instead, starting at the top of the filing cabinet to work her way down. She flipped open a couple of different folders to skim the papers inside. âLooks like old mission reports here, too,â she announced, dropping them both on the floor. She grabbed another and opened it up, her brows furrowing when she saw the top page stapled inside: a list of Horde soldier casualties. âApparently not all successful ones.â
She looked up to Catra to check her progress and her brows rose again when she realized what her girlfriend had in her hands. âWow. I didnât think she had more than one set of robes. She always wore those ones you tore up when we were little. Even when she was at Bright Moon.â
If this were Catra of Old, that was a statement that would have sent her spiraling for several reasons. It almost did, honestly - and if Melog were present their mane would be very telling of what feelings had spiked through her. But she contained it to the point that all her tail did was twitch, not even bristle. All she had to do was inhale, hold it for a few seconds, and then exhale.
No need to think about how when she was at Bright Moon meant when Shadow Weaver used her, manipulated her and left her at Hordakâs mercy. No need to think about - or even entertain the idea - that maybe she kept those shredded robes out of some twisted sentimental value.
âMy claws improved it,â Catra shrugged nonchalantly, shoved the robes back into the drawer sheâd found them in, and closed it. It wasnât important. âHelped the whole âevil witchâ vibe she insisted on having - her tastes were shit.â
Okay, so. Those words held a little spice, a little venom. Nothing worth deciphering, and she was fine going down the line of cabinets. The next held actual records this time, thank fuck.
âYeah,â Adora agreed quietly, watching Catra for another moment before turning back to her task. Talking about Shadow Weaver was a minefield; Catra may seem unaffected, but she knew better. She also had no idea how to even begin talking about it, so for now, she was choosing not to. They would have to, eventually â being here was bound to stir things up â but she would put it off a little longer if she could.
She kept working on folder after folder, making sure there wasnât any sort of pressing information in them, then dropping them onto the growing pile on the ground. There was no sense in keeping any of this. The Horde wasnât here and the war was long over. These things belonged in the incinerator, and sheâd drag it all down there herself later on.
She cast Catra a sidelong glance before she crouched down to open the cabinetâs middle drawer. âIâll run a stack of these to the incinerator when Iâm finished with this one. Find anything interesting?â
There were a bunch of folders she pulled from the cabinet, and she chose to press her back into the nearest wall to get herself comfy sorting through it with her knees up. Flipping through the papers was mindless in this meditative way that she needed - and it kind of got to the point where all the words started to blur together. Until.
Catra blinked. Adoraâs inquiry barely registered, and she reread the name on the folder, held it wide open, and pulled an old photo from the paperclip it was pinned under.
âFound you,â she announced with a toothy grin and turned the photo over so Adora could see it. It was her, round-faced with all that baby chub and a mess of wheat blonde. That meant Catraâs file was probably right beneath it. âYou were stupid cute. Your smileâs the same.â
âOh, wow.â Adora dropped the stack of folders in her hands onto the pile - probably wasnât anything they wanted in there, anyway - and re-situated herself on the floor. She scooched over closer to Catra to look at the picture of her younger self. âAt least I donât have that gap in my teeth anymore,â she chuckled. âAnd I like to think Iâm still stupid cute!â
The folder was stuffed full of papers, all covered in Shadow Weaverâs very elegant script, mostly obscured under a few more scattered pictures of her growing up. Including one almost immediately post the tragic, self-inflicted haircut Catra had sketched out for her from Ancient Vallo. âWhy?â she sighed, her cheeks turning pink at the sight of her equally embarrassed face in the photo.
âYou have no idea how glad I am to have photographic evidence of this atrocity,â Catra gasped, excited at the sight of it. Weirdly, she never really considered the nostalgic value of finding these - and watching media that involved family moments and expressed the importance of pictures made her a little happy to have found these.
They could do something cheesy like make some fucking album or some shit.
The papers were detailed. Shadow Weaver clearly had a lot to write about Adora - and from skimming it, the majority were good things. How shocking. âMentions how Hordak found you in here,â she went on with a frown, brows pinching together. âGuess if I actually bothered to pay more attention I would have known that a lot sooner.â
Adora pulled from a portal. Away from a family that most likely wanted her. Catra felt like she should have been there for her, when she found out about it instead of trying to fight her the entire time.
âIâm glad you didnât, honestly. Where we were then, it wouldnât have been good. And it was hard enough to process on its own.â
The truth of where sheâd come from was still a little hard to wrap her mind around sometimes. Adora had thought she was just an orphan, abandoned in Etheria and picked up and raised by Shadow Weaver in the Horde. Learning that sheâd been pulled through the portal by Light Hope, solely because they needed a First One to renew She-Raâs line, was a lot to take in. She may have had parents that wanted her there. She may still, but as long as she was in Vallo, sheâd never know for sure.
She could envision how it would have gone down with Catra â yelled at her doing one of their fights, probably, used as a tool to distract, disarm, and break her down. Catra may have cared deep down, but they were just shy of their lowest points when she discovered that particular truth. There would have been no comforting, maybe not even a civil word exchanged.
Yeah. Right. Catra being an ass and all - it probably would have been a terrible mix. Her response to that was a hum in agreement, and she did well ignoring that sting in her chest. They were past this, sins forgiven so they could keep moving forward but it still brought this heartache she was still learning to live with.
Another deep breath, another slow exhale.
âThereâs dates here,â she quietly continued. âOf when she - well, you take this. Itâs yours.â This was her history anyway, written down and recorded by Shadow Weaver. Catra transferred the folder from her lap to Adoraâs, careful not to let any loose papers slip out. âHere. Iâve got mine.â
Hers had a lot of angry scribbling. Sheâs seen it before. Plenty of offenses and terrible comments, a list of punishments endured. She didnât really know if she wanted to skim through it just so she could read everything in her voice. During her worst days, she always heard her voice, repeating words over and over that cut deep. She wasnât in a rush to hear them anytime soon.
Adoraâs breath caught in her throat when she re-opened her folder and saw what Catra had been reading on top. It was several pages, all paper clipped together, each with a date and an overview of the memories Shadow Weaver had taken from her. Somehow, she hadnât expected Shadow Weaver to have taken such careful notes of these things. She didnât like to think about what sheâd done at all, but sheâd hoped it was more of a spur-of-the-moment occasion when it happened.
âOkay, well, Iâm going to - later, Iâll read these. I canât right now.â Maybe this handful of papers would come in handy if she wanted to recover those lost memories later on, but she didnât need to torment herself further right now. Sheâd heard all the stories from Catra â the details of every incident Shadow Weaver had deemed salacious and stolen away from her â and she remembered nothing. Reading about them wouldnât change that.
She flipped the folder shut again and stood up, stashing up on top of the nearly empty file cabinet. âIs there anything else here we want to keep? Because maybe She-Ra can just carry these down and save us some time.â
She couldnât deal with this, and she wished sheâd never suggested coming here. It needed to be done, she knew that logically, but her emotions were starting to cloud her judgment, and she needed to compartmentalize and shift her focus. She didnât have time to dwell and be upset. They had been putting this off for months, and she wanted it broken down and out of their hands, damn it.
Catra didnât budge from her spot. Her eyes hadnât left Adora. Every tensing muscle, twitch of her jaw - she noticed, and that sting she felt became this pang of guilt that made her stomach drop. She hated this. They knew coming back here to get these documents wouldnât be painless but it was like getting salt rubbed on open wounds.
Except these wounds should be closed up and scarred. Scars donât bleed.
âNo,â she answered, still quiet. Catra didnât really do quiet, yet there was this uncharacteristic air of sadness that clung to her like a bad scent. Part of her didnât have a problem shoving down the mess of complicated feelings all this brought, she was a fucking pro at it. Seeing Adora do it, and failing to conceal how much this hurt - it kind of killed her.
Getting up had to happen eventually. There was no point in staying when they found what they came for. But Catra found herself toying with the edges of the papers stuffed into her folder, and she found the edges of an old photo she pulled free without really thinking about it. Whatever it was made her even smile, just a little.
She waved it at Adora. The subject of the photo was a very tiny, tiny Catra - matted fur, bright eyes, and an insane mane that was twice her size. âThis is from when you found me. Right after you gave me my name.â
What was written in these documents was awful for both of them. These pictures, though, were worth something.
Adora ran her hands over her face, forcing herself to take a breath and loosen her tense jaw. She was getting better with feelings â she and Catra still had some issues, but they were working through them and much, much better than when theyâd gotten here â but she still wasnât sure what to do with the mess of emotions Shadow Weaverâs mere existence stirred up inside her. She didnât even know how to start putting what she felt into words.
Thankfully, Catraâs waving hand took her mind off of that for the moment, and before she knew it, she was sinking back down onto the floor. She smiled, too, when she saw that picture of little kitten Catra. She didnât remember much from such a young age, but she remembered the moment sheâd first discovered this tiny, nameless little kitten hiding out in an applesauce box in the depths of the Fright Zone.
âI loved you the second I laid eyes on you,â she chuckled. Her heart fluttered and she leaned over to press a kiss to Catraâs temple. âSorry I didnât give you a better name, though. I guess my three-year-old self wasnât super creative.â She still wasnât, really, not in that regard. She was a soldier; sheâd never really had any creative hobbies, and Catra was the only person sheâd ever named.
âI think I probably hissed at you the moment I saw you,â Catra let out a strained chuckle herself, finding Adoraâs shoulder to be a prime resting spot for her head. Her recollection of the first time they met was more visual than anything - she remembered the brightened look of her eyes peering into the box, the baby grin squishing into the fat of her cheeks. She could remember feeling scared. Alone, cold. Then it was like the sun rose and even with sharp kitten claws scratching into her, Adora held her. She persisted. She never gave up on her, not even then. âI loved you the moment you hugged me, though. Itâs the first one I remember getting.â
No wonder she latched onto her like a lifeline back then. Adora was everything - the person who found her, the person who named her. But it was also weird to look back at these pictures, to see how little and innocent they both were, and to think that all Shadow Weaver saw was one sacrificial lamb to manipulate and one nuisance she wouldnât mind murdering.
The next breath she let out was a sigh. It trembled. âI donât think I have one maternal bone in my body,â Catra started, her tail wrapping around Adoraâs arm tightly, âbut I could never look at two kids that young and think about all the twisted ways to pit them against each other and mess them up the way she did with us.â
Adora nestled in as close to Catra as she possibly could, reaching out to give her knee a gentle squeeze. The pressure of Catraâs tail wrapped up and down her arm was exactly the anchor she needed. She dropped a kiss on the crown of her girlfriend's head, her free hand moving to stroke her soft tail. She remembered being so fascinated by Catra when she first came to the Horde â she was an anomaly, a species Adora had never seen before, even among the Hordeâs varied rankings. She was small and scared and alone, and all Adora could think to do was stick to her like glue.
And now here they were. Nearly a full two decades later, and they were still together. Even three years of being sworn enemies on the opposite sides of a war neither of them had started hadnât been enough to separate them forever. Even Shadow Weaver, hard as sheâd tried, hadnât accomplished that.
âI donât understand it either,â she sighed softly, turning her head to rest her cheek on top of Catraâs head. âMaybe she didnât at first. Maybe it was just as we got older and closer, and she started feeling like, I donât know - threatened, I guess. Maybe thatâs when it really started getting bad.â Shadow Weaver was not a good person. Objectively, Adora knew that. But she still had this part of her that wanted to believe there was some goodness in her, despite all evidence to the contrary.
âThreatened by two kids?â Catra laughed at that. It wasnât a happy sound, god no. More like mirthless, disbelieving. âPretty dumb, considering she could have smothered us in our sleep whenever she felt like it.â
Or used her magic, like sheâd done on her plenty of times as a child. Sometimes sheâd restrain her, seize her muscles up in that electric current from the Black Garnet, and other times - a zap, a sting, a throw. The times she had opted to withhold ration bars or put her on latrine duty overnight were acts of mercy.
And yet, she had craved her approval like water. She resented never having it. Resented the fact that no matter how hard she tried, she would have never been enough.
The baby photo was slipped back into the folder. âThe only good thing she ever did for us was die,â she mumbled irately. âAnd even then - she expected fucking gratitude.â
Youâre welcome, she had said. Right after she had the audacity to tell Catra how proud of her she was. In the moment it struck her hard. They both cried, but she swore those were the last tears sheâd ever give to that woman.
There it was â one part of the memories theyâd received from home that theyâd been skirting around ever since. Bringing Shadow Weaver up while they were basking in the high of saving Etheria and the universe from Primeâs clutches hadnât even been a thought in her mind, personally. She was a taboo subject in general and mere mention of her name tended to ruin moods and conversations in a heartbeat.
âYou donât owe her anything,â she whispered firmly, pressing her nose just below Catraâs ear as she spoke. âShe wanted to be acknowledged as a hero. Thatâs all that was. But no one will think of her that way. If they ever think of her again.â
For all the conflicting feelings she dwelled in when it came to her relationship with Shadow Weaver, she hadnât had any fans amongst the Princess Alliance either. And Catra was different from anyone else. Adora hadnât witnessed her girlfriendâs relationship with Shadow Weaver in its most recent incarnation during the war, but Catra had told her most of what sheâd missed after her defection. Unsurprisingly, it hadnât been good.
No, Catra didnât owe her shit. It wasnât as if she ever felt a sense of duty to do right by her, or whatever; sheâd just been stupid enough to wish Shadow Weaver would love her. But that desire died when she used her and left her to face Hordakâs wrath without a second thought - she felt unwanted, abandoned. Again
And she had the two of them so twisted up that they hardly recognized what she had been doing to them this entire time. Catra always knew she was messing with their heads but not to this extent - it didnât hit her that sheâd been prepping Adora to believe that it was okay to toss her life away for a purpose, that what she wanted wouldnât matter because of destiny until they were back on Etheria.
âYou donât either,â she shot back firmly, eyes narrowing at the wall ahead of them. âShe might not have ever hidden the fact that sheâd be fine with me being dead, but with you - she wanted you to think that you had to die. That dying for a greater purpose was what you were meant to do. And you almost did. Iâll hate her forever just for that.â
âI didnât, though,â Adora countered, jumping right into comfort mode. âIâm right here. Because of you. You saved me.â She very nearly hadnât been, though, and Catra was right: that was Shadow Weaverâs doing. Her constant assertions that Adora was meant for power and greatness, even if that came at the cost of her life. If it was a price that had to be paid, she would pay it, and she almost had.
It was luck (and love but a lot of luck) that sheâd gotten out of the Heart alive. She had given up, but Catra had pulled her back from that brink. They had stopped Prime, restored Etheriaâs magic, and Shadow Weaver had been the only one who died â to save them. Adora knew Shadow Weaver was awful and poisonous, but for someone as self-interested as their old mentor to give up her life, it changed things. Didnât it?
âHow do you feel?â she asked softly, shifting forward so she could look at Catra again and their eyes could meet. âAbout her dying? And like, being dead.â
âUh -â Catra blinked, rapidly and owlishly when Adora moved so they could be more face to face. Her tail undid itself from her arm and went to wrap around her own ankles, and she curled her knees more into her chest as she cradled the mess of papers that held every so-called offense of her life. She hadnât prepared for this. Yeah, obviously, coming here dredged up some messy feelings but she hadnât expected to dive down this spiraling rabbit hole.
Not talking about it had been a nice luxury. Didnât mean it was a sustainable one, either.
Her answer required some thought. Which - ugh, she wished it didnât. Catra wanted that question to be something she could answer without hesitance. But like everything concerning Shadow Weaver, it was complicated. âI donât miss her,â she said eventually, shrugging. âThereâs a part of me that wanted to believe her at the end. When she said she was proud of me.â
Admitting that caused her to steer her eyes from Adoraâs. Shame, probably. It was stupid to entertain that thought, she knew. It wasnât as if she actually believed it, anyway. âIâm not happy that sheâs dead. But Iâm not choked up about it either. I think I was, at first?â Catra looked at her again. âThen I realized she just wanted to keep manipulating us after death, too.â
She learned everything from Shadow Weaver. How to predict every strike, how to resist - to manipulate and scheme and lie. They both found themselves in the position of sacrificing themselves for Adora. Difference was, though, that Catra knew sheâd fucked up, thought she was hated and went for it regardless because it was the right thing to do. She wasnât owed a second chance and definitely hadnât expected it when she screamed her apologies into the comms system, as she was being pulled limb by limb by those clones.
Shadow Weaver always wanted them to owe her everything they had. Even each other. Catra didnât want to feed into that.
âIs it wrong of me to just feel⊠relieved?â
Adora pressed herself close to Catra, despite how she had curled into herself. She wanted to completely engulf her, but she knew her girlfriend. She knew she was used to self-soothing, and sometimes she just needed to indulge that. It wasnât easy for her to accept, but she was trying to be better. She knew she couldnât fix everything for Catra, as much as she wanted to.
That included how she felt about Shadow Weaver. She didnât like Catra having bad feelings about her â more for her own sake than because she felt Shadow Weaver was owed any respect (because she absolutely wasnât). But she had every right to feel them, and she was probably correct, too. Shadow Weaver may have raised them, but that was about the only good thing sheâd done. Even her work with the Rebellion had been for selfish reasons. Manipulation was what she did; it was almost impossible to believe that those last words of hers were sincere after all sheâd put them through.
âI donât think itâs wrong.â She shrugged and reached out to comfort her with a quick squeeze of Catraâs knees. âI donât know if she meant it when she said she was proud of you, but Iâm proud of you. Youâre amazing, and Shadow Weaver missed out on that. And I love you. A lot.â
âYouâre so biased though,â Catra faintly smirked, and her tail unraveled so she could uncurl from her spot. Meant Adora could invade her space more if she wanted. Her words conjured this warmth - this fire that thawed her out, helped melt away the vestiges of rotten feelings and buff out the dents in her self-worth. âGood thing your opinion is the only one that matters to me.â
Considering she had done terrible, terrible things and somehow Adora found it in her to look past it, forgive her and extend this second chance she was sure she didnât deserve - her saying she was proud was the only approval she needed. What Shadow Weaver had thought of her in the past, what she thought of her the moment she died was beginning to matter less and less with time.
Her hands reached out for hers to squeeze, eyes soft and ears low. âI love you a lot, too. What about you? How do you feel about all of⊠that?â
Adora took that opportunity, scooting in closer and wrapping her arms around as much of her girlfriend as she could reach. She leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead and smiled softly at that little fond smirk Catra was wearing. She felt proud, knowing she had soothed at least some of Catraâs bad feelings. And it was all true, too â they had both come so far, and Adora was proud, particularly of her girlfriendâs progress.
âIâm glad sheâs gone,â she admitted after a long few moments. âI donât miss her. I think the only thing I miss is this idea of who she could have been but never was.â
Sometimes, she could imagine Shadow Weaver had actually been a kind, encouraging mentor to them, but that wasnât who she was. She hadnât known her before, but from what she knew from Micah, it had never been who she was, not really. She was power-hungry and angry and bitter, and she had taken it out on them â not just them but mostly them.
A tiny thunder of purrs rumbled to fill in the silence of that stretch between speaking - and Catra wasnât so sure if it was due to closeness or the nerves that this topic brought. Or both. It was strange to hear Adora agree, though. Usually, she was the, uh, more sympathetic one out of the two. The only one that was ever really on the receiving end of her ire was Horde Prime.
But Shadow Weaver deserved it too. It was good to finally be on the same page about that.
One of her hands closed around one of Adoraâs wrists and she idly rubbed her thumb on the knob of bone there. âIâm sorry,â she sighed, slowly. Yes, sheâs aware sheâs apologized pretty broadly before but as time went on there were specific things she also needed to make a point in apologizing for. âFor all the times I blamed you because of what she did.â
The so-called favoritism. The times sheâd accused Adora of never protecting her, not in a way that made a difference. It wasnât her job even if Catra paid the price for her defecting. She was a kid. They were both just kids, and despite the love that bloomed through those broken cracks there was a lot of resentment Shadow Weaver relished nurturing. âLike, even knowing sheâd been hurting us since we were kids - I guess I was stuck too deep in it to get out. The only thing she enjoyed about you leaving was me trying to hate you for it.â
And hurting over it. There was also the fucked up fact that the only two who knew Adoraâs mind had been wiped was them. It was a secret she hated sharing with her, and when Shadow Weaver wanted to needle her right in the heart in the beginning - sheâd use those moments, twist them around and say things like if she wanted you like you thought, she wouldnât have left you.
The more she thought about it all, the more she was sure of what she felt about her death. Relief.
Adora nearly interjected to tell Catra not to apologize. In her book, there was no need. The war had been rough on them both, and yes, Catra had been responsible for some very bad stuff. But they were past that. She was actively trying to be better now, and that was the only thing that mattered to Adora. Continuous apologies wouldnât serve either of them.
But she let Catra go on because she could tell she needed to. She watched her as she spoke, hands shifting to lace their fingers together, and shook her head when sheâd finished. âYou donât need to apologize for that,â she said firmly. âI wish I had protected you better. I should have, but - she got to me, too, sometimes.â
Shadow Weaver had rarely abused her the way sheâd abused Catra, but she recognized more and more the damage sheâd done to her, anyway. Her entire mindset was the way it was because Shadow Weaver had made it that way. She was the reason Adora had always strived for perfectionism, took on other peopleâs burdens, stretched herself so thin that she couldnât sleep at night. She was better now, too. She was trying, and Vallo had given her that opportunity before she knew how everything had resolved on Etheria. But it was still there, and it was going to take her a long time to shake it entirely.
Sheâd also fallen in her footsteps sometimes, letting slip similar shitty sentiments about Catra that had been drilled into her head. And it wasnât fair, and she didnât truly believe any of it, but it had happened. âIâm sorry, too,â she murmured. âFor when I blamed you for the way she treated you. It wasnât true, and you didnât deserve it, and I hate myself for it.â
âYou canât tell me not to apologize,â Catra started with this small, morose smile and a hand that reached up to cup her scarred cheek, âfor what she had me believe and then apologize for the same thing, dummy.â
It was a vicious cycle with them, wasnât it. A really exhausting one. They always thought the other owed them zero apologies but the apologies didnât stop. She understood Adoraâs guilt though - it was her guilt, too. âI donât want you hating yourself but if you do - Iâll love you for the both of us,â she said, grazing the lines that marred her face with her thumb. âWhat can I say to make you feel better? That I forgive you?â
Which, to Catra, seemed like some silly thing - an eyebrow even quirked up incredulously, and her smile twisted into something that expressed a flash of amusement. âBecause we did say no more grudges. I meant that.â
They had said no more grudges. It had become sort of like a mantra for them. Holding onto all the anger and bad feelings from the war had no place here; this had been the fresh start they needed and theyâd taken that opportunity. For the most part, theyâd stuck with that, too. But when they got into these ruts, there was really no stopping it. It was sadness on top of guilt on top of regret, and even the unnecessary apologies still flowed.
âMe too. No more grudges.â Adora smiled and leaned into Catraâs palm against her cheek. Sometimes she forgot about that scar on her cheek â the mark from the turkeyâs talon. Sheâd been embarrassed about it for a while, but now that sheâd adjusted to it, it was like it wasnât there. âI hate the idea of ever having made you feel so bad, but - knowing you love meâs all I need. Iâm okay. Promise.â
She pressed a gentle kiss to her girlfriendâs lips before wrapping her up in her arms and properly pulling her into her lap. Sheâd been resisting this far, but with those furs vibrating against her, sheâd broken down. âSheâs gone now. Primeâs gone. Hordak isâŠneutralized, I guess. It doesnât seem so bad back there anymore. Even the Fright Zoneâs pretty now.â
The lap was fine, it was always where she ended up anyway - and her preferred seating spot always. Her arms circled around her neck and she leaned in, giving her lips a peck of a kiss right back. âThis one still looks like shit,â Catra chuckled, leaning into her snugly as her eyes surveyed the interior of the office. Dank, cold walls. Electrical wires and pipes. No windows, but it wasnât as if the Fright Zone was known to be scenic and who the fuck wanted a view of smog and burning garbage.
But it was what it was. A good reminder that they should be proud of where they were at now considering where they came from, she guessed.
âYou know,â she mumbled, rubbing her nose along that sharp jawline as she breathed in her scent. âWe could burn her robes. The paperwork. Not ours, I mean - but everything else. Itâs not like weâre permanently erasing anything with things being digitized but, I donât know. Could be nice to watch things burn. You did talk about going She-Ra just to carry it all.â
That gentle rubbing motion along her jawline caused a little shiver to shoot up Adoraâs spine. She took a slow breath, her hand smoothing down Catraâs back. She hesitated for a moment. It felt a little bit wrong to burn up any piece of their childhood home so cavalierly, but very little good had ever come from this place. They had planned to take most of these papers down to the incinerator, anyway; maybe there would be some catharsis in watching an open flame burn it all to ash instead.
âLetâs do it,â she agreed. They didnât need any of this; even if any former Horde members showed up, it wasnât like she and Catra would be recruiting them back to the Fright Zone. People who came here got to make their own names and lives and choices, and she certainly wouldnât be the one to strip that freedom away.
âAnd maybe I can try to revive this place? Like I did back home?â She had all that magic just burning inside her now, and she wanted to do something with it. It had its uses for little things and probably against future threats, but it mostly just stayed dormant inside her. And if it could make this wretched little island better, maybe it was worth a shot.
Hm. That wasnât a terrible idea. The Fright Zone was an eyesore compared to all the other islands that popped up in Vallo for whatever reason. It wasnât spitting out pollution at least, and they could see the blueness of the sky and the actual fuckinâ sun when they came here - but there was also just so much dank metal and scraps.
âYou should,â Catra hummed in agreement, delicately placing her claws on Adoraâs chin so she could angle their heads - that way their eyes could meet, and she could look into those pretty baby blues. âItâs worth a try. This place is fucking ugly. You wanna do that part today or save it for another time? All this sad crapâs actually gotten me kind of hungry and Iâm gonna want food after we therapeutically toss shit into the incinerator.â
Usually, piss-poor moods tended to kill her appetite, but she also wasnât particularly feeling piss-poor either. It was weird - she felt lighter, in a way. Like they had sucked out poison from an old wound and spit it out of their bodies. They were better for it.
âI can just do it on our way out.â Adora smiled, her confidence blooming. She had her doubts she would be able to pull off the same thing here she had on Etheria â mostly because they werenât on Etheria. But so far, after sheâd gotten past the glitching, she hadnât been having any trouble with She-Ra. It would be nice to liven this place up and make it feel a little less dreadful to all those who passed it by.
She smiled as she gazed into Catraâs eyes, slipped a hand under her chin, and pulled her in for another soft kiss. âLetâs take care of this and then Iâll get you all the food you want. No cooking for you tonight, okay?â
She was feeling much better here than she had since it had first appeared, and she was sure burning some of this crap would only improve their moods further. But this place still took a mental toll. Treating themselves to a greasy dinner was very needed.
âEven if itâs the food that involves the raw fish and the rice?â Catra challenged with raised brows, smirking. Greasy food was fine but then at some point recently she discovered sushi and that was like - life changing for her. Might have to do with those feline genetics. Maybe. Probably. It was rolled up all small and bite-sized for her dainty eating, it was literally perfect.
Though with their claim at being productive, that meant she had to wriggle out of her lap. Alas. She detangled herself from Adora, tucked her own file under her arm, and extended a hand to help her back onto her feet. âWe could cleanse the stench of this place off with a date night.â
Adoraâs nose automatically wrinkled. Sushi had been a big hit for Catra lately, which she could guess was because she was, well, a cat. And while she was okay with fish, she preferred her fish cooked. The little restaurant Catra favored most had plenty of other options, and sheâd actually eat the sushi, reluctantly. There would definitely be a burger stop later, though, for something substantial.
âSushi it is,â she sighed, taking Catraâs hand to get to her feet. It wasnât needed, but it was sweet. She showed her appreciation with a kiss on her girlfriendâs forehead. âWe can order some for Melog. I bet theyâll like it, too. Whereâd they wander off to, anyway?â
Having Melog around was still somewhat fresh, but it was good. It made Vallo feel a little more like Etheria in a good way, and she knew Catra was grateful to have them around. They grounded her and made her better in their own way. Even the pets were getting used to them and settling down again.
Catra may have beamed a little bit there, ears perking up and the tip of her tail twisting into this half-heart shape. Yeah, yeah - food in Vallo was good, she wouldnât deny that but sheâd finally found a favorite and may have been milking it a little bit.
Or a lot, but Adora indulged her and she got a kiss on the cheek for it.
âTheyâll meet us at the skiff,â she said and went to swipe at Adoraâs folder so she had both of their files in her possession. âI asked them to give us a little space for this?â Otherwise, their mane would be a constant demonstration of red, spiking up with a thunder of growls. And maybe some melancholic grayness, too. âAnyway - get the robes out of the cabinet for me? I want to watch those burn first.â
Adora could definitely understand that. Melog being basically Catraâs mood ring â well, it was better to let them go do their own thing for a while and check things out themself. She hadnât really noticed them go off, but she wasnât as attuned to them as Catra was either. And now that they werenât in any sort of world-ending danger, they didnât need Melog as an extra barrier.
âRobes, got it.â She crossed back to the cabinet Catra had been digging through and came up with Shadow Weaverâs spare set of wine-colored robes. These would be the most therapeutic to burn, so robes first, then theyâd get to the paperwork. She draped them over one arm before returning to Catra and extending her hand. âLetâs go.â
It was easier to see those robes now that she was expecting it. Somewhere - right outside the Heart of Etheria - were the cracked remains of the mask that woman would hide behind. If those were here too she would have gladly stepped on them until they became dust beneath her feet and itâd be another dose of free therapy.
But the spare robes worked pretty well.
Catra took her hand, fingers interlocked tight. âYep,â she breathed a sigh. âLetâs do this.â