WHO Atreus & Catra WHERE Vallo Forest! WHEN During the Christmas plot! WHAT Two chaotic beings run into Mistletoe Tribbles and have a blast blasting them apart. STATUS Complete! WARNINGS I guess it could be considered sensitive content if youâre Santa or you really like mistletoe.
Atreus didnât always carry his bow around with him in Vallo. He had an arsenal of other skills and magic and sometimes it could be a little off-putting when he was dealing with people, so he left it at home. But this was not one of those times.
This time, he was on a mission. It was mistletoe season, and Freya was here. Heâd tolerated it the last two years, had glared at them when they popped up in doorways or arches above his head, didnât spend as much time in the city, just frowned at the whole concept of kissing someone simply because a plant made you.
His necklace, the mistletoe arrowhead that had been used to render Baldur helpless, used to hang around his neck. Freya had given it back to him, but he just kept it at home, hanging against the mirror in his house, that reminder still there but unnecessary to keep it so close to him. Freya didnât deserve this kind of reminder, the fact that there was one thing and one thing only in the world that could help destroy her son and that was exactly what happened.
So he went hunting mistletoe. Not on purpose really, but heâd been hanging out with Catra and Fenrir, enjoying his friend and quieter time with animals even though Fenrir bounding off to chase something was loud and rumbling. It was when he went after a green puff of twigs that Atreus sat up a little straighter. âWhat the--â They followed the large wolf, and the trail of annoying mistletoe, to a farm nearby, where the mistletoe were already starting to overwhelm it and the animals outside.
Atreus nocked an arrow and pulled the string, âĂruma.â When it struck true, a mistletoe exploded and took another with it.
But just as quickly as it disappeared, another showed up. âAre you kidding--â He looked at Catra. âWhat the fuck?â
Catra hadnât know what the hell even mistletoe were until that fateful evening, where Atreus - drunk - rambled on, typos galore, and all she could do was stare at her phone screen and mouth what the fuck to herself the whole time. It was some plant?? During the holidays?? Now, of course, she knew all the details and couldnât give a ratâs ass at whatever cultural meaning it held for the season. Sometimes sheâd see it as decor, shrug her shoulders and move because, one, she didnât need the presence of a plant to kiss her wife and, two, it wasnât ever going to give her a reason to kiss anyone else. Thatâd be weird.
It also just happened to be the last thing sheâd ever consider to be a threat right now. Had this plant that started floating along smacked them in the face with malice? No. But the sheer number of them existing and spreading like a plague was vaguely threatened.
âNo idea whatâs happening,â Catra deadpanned in response, narrowing her eyes. âWhat is even theââ
Point, is what she was going to say, until a lone mistletoe popped before her (dusted in what could only be snow, it looked that festive) and flaunted itself before her eyes. She swatted it. It dodged. She swatted it again. The plant swirled around her head, and Catraâs pupils began eclipsing the color of her eyes.
âItâsâare you mocking me??â
Any other time, any other monster or beast or item of note, and Atreus wouldâve laughed. He wouldâve joked to Catra about letting it taunt her and been annoying in return.
But now it felt personal, these annoying brats making little jingling noises and moving around them like they knew these two were easy to get a rise out of. And they werenât wrong, which just dug in the wound a little deeper. âI think it is.â He deadpanned right back, his normal enthusiastic tone was pulled back for this.
âSkajlfa!â He fired three more arrows in quick succession, and the runic magic did itâs beautiful thing and exploded them.
Two more appeared in their place, and Atreus groaned. âMaybe we just have to burn it all down and start over.â The mooing of a cow in the nearby pen made him feel instantly bad for saying that, and Atreus started towards it to make sure it was okay. âI was just kidding! Mostly!â
Stupidshitfuck mistletoe. Catra did not do well with being mocked by something dumb like plants (sorry, Perfuma) and once she captured the damn thing with her hands, she wasted no time shredding it to pieces like paper. It would have given her immense satisfaction if it werenât for the fact that they were dealing with an actual infestation.
It didnât look like they, like, had teeth or fought back. So - not harmful, but hella annoying.
âWanna handle the ones on those poor things?â Atreus had the magic touch when it came to animals. She wasnât bad herself, but she was going more for a divide and conquer approach. âIâll tackle the surrounding ones.â
As if it heard her declaration of war, one mistletoe got up in her face and had the audacity to tickle her nose. Catra squeaked out a sneeze (it was not cute, damnit), and then lunged at it like a woman possessed. âHey! Fuck you!â
Okay, this time Atreus did laugh. Or rather he stifled out a small huff of one that he hoped Catra wouldnât notice. âOn it.â He did well with taking direction, thankfully, and lept over the fence towards the cows. He shot a few more of them before he got in close to the cows.
He pulled another two off of the cow, and smoothed a hand down her side, her agitation and annoyance practically radiated off. âHey you, sorry about them. Weâre working on i-- Catra, behind you!â
The warning was probably not necessary, since the mistletoes were more annoying than anything, but it got dangerously close to her hair and Atreus winced, not wanting to risk an arrow that close to her. He cleared off another two that popped up by the fence, and then got smacked in the face by one. Atreus grabbed it and pulled it apart in similar fashion to Catra, sans claws. âThis isnât the reason I hate mistletoe but itâs quickly becoming that!â
What a crap time to be without Melog or Clawdeen; theyâd be pouncing at these too and lending some extra claws. Catra was working through them at a decent pace. They floated and zig-zagged around and kind of just⊠needled at her mostly dormant prey drive. It was making her twitchy.
âI got it, I got it!â she called out to Atreus, claws slashing through while it was in mid-air. The remains hit the ground, and so did she - but on all fours in this funny, prowling kind of way. âUgh, tempted to give Perfuma a call to see if sheâs got princess power jurisdiction over these stupidâcâmere, you shit!â
Butt wriggling, she pounced at one and slammed it to the ground. Then another, and another. Her tail was lashing with a predator sort of sway, and she started this rhythm of pouncing them and then using her claws to rip them apart andâ
Oh, this was fun. Her pupils might have gotten larger than usual. Screw twitchy. Catra was fixated, but it was fine, because she was murdering these little plant things and she was purring while doing it.
Catra going hogwild was enough of a mood pickup for Atreus for him to get into it as well. Maybe it was the purring. Heâd heard it before but it was a delight every damn time and brought a grin to his face as he shot several more mistletoes that were jingling around in the air.
More popped up. More, and more, and more. And now he was low on arrows. With a frustrated growl, Atreus dropped his bow and lept over the fence. Mid-leap, he shifted into a wolf and took one out of the sky all at once, powerful jaws poofing it out of existence.
Wolf-Atreus grabbed another, and another. For several minutes he ran around Catraâs feet, barking and biting enough mistletoe that it was practically raining green. Eventually he found himself in the quiet calm of the farm, paws sitting on top of a pile of dead mistletoe like it was a throne. When there were no more that he could see, he barked at Catra happily.
So this hadnât been the worst.
Maybe.
Not like these things had razor sharp teeth to bite them with or anything (she had to learn to pick her battles due to the whole âwith childâ thing), and with how long they spent eliminating them, they just continued to prove that they were annoying. And a littleâokay, it turned into a game, and it was satisfying her twitchy prey drive, whatever. Catra had what could only be described as green carnage sprinkled all over her hair by the end of it, and she looked at Atreus with a puff of pride.
âHah! We won,â she declared with a toothy grin. This wasnât the first time sheâs seen him like this, either; she had seen him shift through a variety of forms before, and this one was the cutest. Back on just the two feet now, she reached over to give him a scratch behind the ears because⊠how the hell could she not? Look at him. âThat was weird, though.â Catra frowned. âHow upset is Freya gonna be if she sees anything like what we just saw?â
Atreus barked out something positive in return, and probably appreciated the scratches more than he would admit to. But then it was kind of obvious when he leaned into the touch. He couldnât be blamed, it was good! And Atreus couldnât reach those spots without hands.
But a hands and mouth were required for other things, and with a flash of yellow magic, Atreus hopped back up on two feet as himself. âThat was really weird.â He picked up some of the fallen leaves and then let them fall back through his fingers. âI donât really know. I know sheâs in a much better place about it now than she was, with uh- everything that happened at home. She got some closure there, but I might see about making sure the grove has a few extra wards up against things like this.â
There was a pause, and then he snorted. âNot like Vallo really listens to that sort of thing, though.â
âI mean, Iâve seen wards go to shit when it comes to crazy violent magical thingsâbut mistletoe?â Catra put her hands on her hips, surveying the farmland in case there was one or two they missed. There didnât seem to be any. Those things radiated smug energy anyway; they would have probably made themselves known by slapping them in the face again. âBut Iâm also not gonna try and figure out how this place ticks so who knows.â
What did she see the other day, on someoneâs vehicle? A sticker that was like âVallo do be like that thoâ? Yeah, relevant.
âAssuming the cows arenât traumatized and donât need a therapy session,â she said, blowing out a sigh that was more like a raspberry sound through her lips. Catra glanced down at her somewhat protruding stomach. âIâm hungry. That was a workout. Wanna come with me to get some hot wings? Weâll keep killing whatever mistletoe comes our way.â
Atreus frowned and kicked at some of the leafy greens with a boot toe. âWho even knows at this point. We kicked itâs ass and we can do it again.â At her mention of the cows, he hopped the fence again towards them. âI think theyâre okay, right bud? Youâre good?â It was a cute voice as he leaned in to give the cow in front some ear scritches.
Back over his shoulder, he grinned at Catra, âShe agrees that we should get you some food before you stage a revolt. Your choice.â
Oh my gods, he actually asked. Catra fondly rolled her eyes. Of course he did. âRelieved to have her input,â she smirked, little fang sticking out from her upper lip. âGlad to know that no cows were psychologically damaged during the Battle of Mistletoe but, yeah, thereâs a revolt brewing if I donât get fed. Iâm thinking the cat tavern? They still think Iâm one of them and they give me stuff sometimes.â
But before they ventured off, Catra stomped her foot on one the last fallen mistletoe, feeling a satisfying crunch beneath her feet. There was a slight wiggle of life there she had to snuff outâand they couldnât have that now, could they?