A/N: She-ra and the Princess of power were made by J. Michael Straczynski and Larry DiTillio, I only take credit for my own added character's and storylines. Similarly, any references will be attributed to their original creators when they pop up.
I post on both A03 and FanFiction, take your pick in whichever you prefer to read.~.
I hope you enjoy!
Book 2: Of Schemes & Gathering
Chapter 3 ~ The Start of Mask
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"It looks kind of bare." Catra frowns, leaning into the chair, both legs on the table as she scrolls through the schematics. "Not to mention costly," Her eyes flicker upwards, frown deepening as she tries calculating how costly the entire idea would even begin to be.
Catra winces; not cheap.
"It still needs the hull." Entrapta waves her concerns away, "I'm using high-yield steel. Initial tests have indicated it'll withstand the water pressure we need it to reach."
Catra buries her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she imagines the nightmare that budgeting this would be.
"Entrapta," She sighs, placing the tablet down as she stares at the hanger's ceiling. "I need you to make some cuts. And it's a brilliant design," She hastily adds, noticing the older woman's scowl, "but I really can dedicate that level of materials for something that, for all purposes, is a civilian vehicle."
"But I can't add any weapons onto it!" Entrapta complains, frowning at the almost finished vehicle in annoyance. "The water pressure alone would make it a moot point. At best, it'd destroy the weapon before it worked."
"At best?" Catra eyebrow arched in morbid curiosity.
"At best." She nods with a glum expression. "At worst, the pressure would use any weapon to crush the entire submarine."
Ouch. Catra frowns, suppressing the urge to scream. "Fine." She grimaces, exhaling sharply. "Fine. See where you can make cuts. I'll talk with some of the elders to see what they think.
"Catra," Entrapta stares bewilderedly, "You put the board together. There is literally no reason for you to ask for permission."
Catra rolls her eyes exasperatedly. "There's only so much I can do in a day." She huffs, ignoring the growing bruises under her eyes as she lazily stretches. "Besides, some of the ideas those old-timers come up with aren't half bad."
"I suppose." Entrapta nods absentmindedly. "Having someone to share your load does tend to make things easier. I find working with Hordak a lot easier than when I work by myself, for example."
Catra spine tenses, not appreciating the sudden reminder of that sudden sprouting friendship.
Her hand twitches, wanting to rub her neck at the memory of slow suffocation. The idea that Entrapta gets along with Hordak is not one Catra enjoys. She can almost hear the clock ticking before the man tires of the woman.
And Catra is intelligent enough to realise what happened to those that tire him.
"I'll look into it," She repeats, thoughts only half towards the newly invented submarine as she starts running through another set of notes. "Tell me when it's close to being finished. I'll arrange some mechanics to pilot it. Meanwhile-"
"Ohh!" Entrapta coo's, trying to grab the device. "Is that what I think it is?"
It says much of their association, Catra mulls, that she's capable of evading all of Entrapta's many tendrils of hair with little thought.
It also speaks much that she swaps it with the one Entrapta's holding, idly amused at the woman's delighted squeal as she starts running through the notes.
"Can I-?"
"I'll introduce you to him after I meet him, yes." Catra nods as she attempts to comprehend how water can crush metal. "I was hoping you'd set up a department of, well, science, I suppose. It'd make it a hell of a lot easier for me to keep track, at least." Catra frowns before turning towards Entrapta with a thoughtful expression. "How do you recognise that anyway?"
"I found some similar studies in Dryl's archives." She explains as she edited some of the sections. "Unfortunately, I had little room to experiment on, making the subject more hypothetical than factorial."
Catra hums, making a note to visit Dryl at some point. "Good to know we're not starting from zero, then." Catra leaves Entrapta's tablet on the nearest table, leaning next to her to get a better look at her notes. "You like?"
"There's a lot more data than I initially assumed," Entrapta admits. "I am glad it's a subject that'll finally be explored. For all our advancements in the physical side of medication, our understanding to the more... well, the more internal side of one's health is rather lacking."
There's an almost glazed appearance in Entrapta's expressions, seemingly lost in her thoughts as the mechanical rumbling of the machines fills the background.
"Good to know." Catra finally adds, her own thoughts escaping her as she stares at the large machine.
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"Catra, I-, are you okay?"
This carpet is more comfortable than my bed, she thought with idle amusement. She opens one eye. Her tail lazily swished as she rolled her weight towards her side.
"Peachy."
"Are-" George frowns, placing the snacks on the table before taking a seat next to her. "I have thirteen kids, Catra. You might want to try that again."
Catra exhales sharply, staring at the ceiling with a faraway look. "Nah. I'm okay."
George raises an eyebrow, picking one of the many open books around her as he reads the title. "The start of life? Now that's a title I didn't know we still had!"
"It was behind one of the shelves." She offers, waving a hand in the general direction. "Didn't help much. It was more scientific than I was looking for."
"I see." The man closes the book, neatly starting a pile from the books furthest away. "If we don't have what you're looking for, I'd be happy to ask around." He offers with a smile.
"I don't know what I'm looking for!" Catra grimaces, frustrated. "I'm starting to think there isn't a book for what I am looking for."
"Well," George hums, "Being a librarian tends to mean we know what books we have got. I'd be happy to hear what's been bugging you."
Catra closes her eyes, shaking her head as she remains spread over the floor.
"And," The man smiles idly, "We do plan for this little patch of land to remain neutral. Anything you run by me - or either of us - is something I'll keep in confidence."
Catra frowns, staring at the man contemplatively. A long silence follows where George continues to wait, his expression not as much as flickering as he meets her gaze.
"Sure." Catra sighs, reluctance clear as she lifts herself from the floor, crossing her legs as her fingers gently trace a book's spine. "Do-" A frown forms on her expression, shoulders tensing without permission.
"Take as much time as you need," Geroge says, somehow sounding both firm and gentle.
"Do you," Catra sighs, focusing on her breathing as her mind tries to focus, "ever feel overwhelmed?" She grimaces when George tilts his head, expression confused at her statement. "Right. Ignore that. I'm-, I'm in a weird mood. Today."
"Oh. No, it's okay." The man comforts. "Even three decades later, Lance finds discussions that still catch me off guard. It's a delight! Really. And, if anything, I'd say explaining this to me might help you figure out what you're looking for."
Somehow, Catra had forgotten that. Rather silly, since the reason she was so comfortable visiting was entirely Lance lived here. Lance, who was a defector.
Well, technically, she supposed. It's not like there were ever any defection charges filed against Lance.
She'd know, she'd checked on the off chance she'd need to remove the file.
"I-," Catra thinks, "I think everything I've ever done has been a reaction to everything anyone else has done?" Catra grimaces, swallowing her spit as she tries to make sense of her spiralling thoughts. "Like, I had some vague sense of what I wanted, but that was only because someone else didn't want it. But when I got it, I only went further because someone else didn't want me to."
"I see."
Catra blinks. "You do?"
"Well-, no. But I'm getting some pictures from it." George explains with a thoughtful expression. "How about you try explaining that from a different line of thought."
"I-, I don't follow."
"So, you explained that you feel like all your actions were, in fact, reactions. How about you try explaining how it feels? Or what it is that's getting under your skin. Maybe an example?"
"That sounds like something a Princess would say." She huffs, letting out a weak laugh. "But sure. Examples. I can work with that." She stares at the ceiling, stared patterns she's become far too familiar with as she focuses on a single thought. "So. Some few days ago. Er-, three, two-, how long-?"
"You've been here since yesterday afternoon."
"Right. Right, so three, almost four days ago, I went through some files. And I found something that made me uncomfortable. But that wasn't new. There's a lot of stuff I found about her that makes me super uncomfortable, yeah?"
"I think I'm following, yes."
"Yeah. So that just kind of-, it sucked? But it wasn't all that surprising, so I made a note to deal with it in the future and went on with it. And-,"
The clock above the door continues to tick. It's a calming sound, not too dissimilar from the rumbling of the engines back at her home.
"Do-," Catra licks her lips, closing her eyes as she ignores a growing numbness. "Do you ever have days where everything feels like it's too much? You know you have the stuff to get done. And you know this is important, but it also feels pointless. And then I end up wondering why the hell it's all so messed up inside. And-, and there isn't any reason? Nothing that sticks out, at least. I mean, yeah, it's stressful; but it's always stressful. And some of the stuff I find can be upsetting, but that isn't new either, so..."
So what? It's not like any of that matters. In the end, her worth is what she can offer others, not what weirdness always spirals in her mind. Actions are what make one's worth, evidence that you're worth something, anything.
"I think I do know what you're trying to say," George says, a peculiar expression forming on his features. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, too fast for her to decipher. "But we can return to that after I read some related books. I'd rather not give half knowledge-based information."
"Sure." Catra shrugs, rather impressed he got anything from her dribble.
"But there's something I was hoping to address. And I'm rather glad you asked me instead of Lance." The man smiles, walking towards the door before he beckons her to follow. "I think I have some books that you might be interested in reading."
Catra stares for a moment, realising she's not going to get any more reading done before she lets out a tired breath. "Yeah. Sure. Can't be less productive than what I was doing."
"Don't sell yourself short." George smiles as she follows him through the hallway. "I often find your thoughts to be ingenious. And I know Lance thinks the same."
"Ah." Catra manages to articulate. She had absolutely no idea how to deal with-, well, any of this.
"Oh! But I'm getting ahead of myself!" George smiles apologetically. "You see, while psychology is a concept Lance is more familiar with, and one I think you would benefit from talking with him. Some of what you mentioned involves a subject I rather enjoy exploring."
Catra tilts her head, an eyebrow arching as they reach one of the many doors in the library.
"Tell me, Catra. Have you ever heard of philosophy?"
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"Bored?" Catra asks, tone lacking the usual amusement she tended to feel about it.
"There is very little else to do here but think." Shadow Weaver points out, opening both palms for a moment before she squeezes them shut. "But yes. I suppose I am bored."
"Maybe," Catra starts, placing the food tray on the floor, "if you answered the interrogator's questions and told them what they wanted to know, you'd receive some leeway." She walks towards the wall, crossing her arms as she leans into it.
The older woman stares, her expression unreadable, hidden behind the mask. "Why have you come here, Catra? I rather assumed that I wouldn't see you again."
"I'd rather not," Catra admits, careful to what she says as she stares at the ceiling. "But seeing how you're reaching the date, I thought I might as well ask." Her fingers tap on her shoulder, a frown forming on her features as she thinks back. "How many prisoners deserved to get arrested? Truthfully."
"I-," The woman blinks, head tilting in visible confusion. "I do not understand. They all did."
"They did?" Catra snaps, her voice tense as her throat struggles a rising hiss. "All of them?"
"Of course." She shakes her head incredulously. "They were all obstacles for the Horde's advancement. Faulty gears that impersonated the needed parts of a machine, so to speak."
"Really now?" Catra growls, "Request to study magic to enhance our technology, request to increase the time needed to improve and enhance a cadets training, denied, request to create diplomatic parties to create alliances with neutral parties."
"I remember them, yes." Shadow Weaver nods, an exported tone filling her voice as she makes a dismissive motion. "I fail to see what this has to do with-, well, any of this."
"You don't, do you?"
"As I said. All were faulty. Those that could not understand that it would decrease production efficiency in creating our armies." She shook her head exasperatedly. "I removed them." She shrugs uncaringly. "I fail to see why you're asking me this now. Some of those were years ago. Decades by now."
Catra stared. Mind slowly processed what it had heard as Catra continued staring at the woman.
"You-," Catra shakes her head, a slow, disbelieving laugh bubbling in her lungs. "You really don't see any problem with what you just said, do you?" Her voice raises, reaching a little short of a scream.
"Pardon me?" The woman hisses, back straightening from anger.
Catra flinches.
And then she growls. A low rumble escapes her chest as she exhales sharply. "You know," Catra reaches for the panel, the barrier enclosing the woman in her prison. "I knew I hated you. But I wasn't expecting to find myself pitying you. You don't get it, do you? All these 'machine parts'? They're important. They're all important. With their differences, because of their differences."
"Catra," The woman sighs, shaking her head in clear disapproval. "You've always been far too sentimental about this. The moment a leader gets attached to their soldiers is the moment they prophesied their failure."
"I-," Catra mouth clicks shut, her thoughts spinning as she tries to make up and down from them. "I'm not dealing with this." She manages to grit out as she turns her back.
"Wait!" The woman called. "You're-, you're right. My days left here are dwindling. I know that." For a moment, she hesitates. It's such a foreign act that it forces Catra still in her place. "Pease. My sorcerer's badge, I want to see it for only one last time." And her voice brakes, her shoulder slumping as she falls in defeat. "It's the only thing I have left."
The sight doesn't quite process. And then the words become focused, a flare of something filling Catra's chest as she hisses. "You're going to beg? After everything? You're going to beg me for kindness?" Catra shakes her head. "Disgusting."
And maybe the sight would have amused her, once. She would have laughed at the mighty Shadow Weaver, reduced to begin the same girl she once tortured.
But now she feels disgusted and pity. Of how incredibly wrong everything the woman behind her is.
I fail to see why you're asking me this now. Some of those were years ago.
But she does feel amusement at the thought. The vindicated, satisfied welling in her stomach whenever she saw her fail. Realising that Shadow Weaver's control was nowhere near as far-reaching as she'd made her think would always bring a smile onto her lips.
After all, Guard duty was the punishment job. For those that cared more for the Horde than they did for the mission.
Because if Shadow Weaver had been as in control as Catra had once believed, she would have long since realised that her orders were nowhere near as absolute as she thought.
And it was amusing. To learn that, even in the Horde, there were so many factions that had still hindered Shadow Weaver.
After all, the woman had never realised any soldier loyal to the Horde had never suffered execution.
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"I vividly recall asking for Rogelio's presence." Catra sighs, leaning onto the wall as the elevator's door closes. "I was not aware I had three Rogelio's in my squad."
"You should work on your attention skills, then." Lonnie offers, crossing her arms as the elevator starts to descend.
"I'll make a note to work on it, Rogelio."
"How very thoughtful of you-"
"Okay, both of you shut up." Kyle exhales, sending them both an irritated glance.
Catra blinks. Lonnie stares.
Rogelio releases a discrete snort, gazing at the window with an amused expression.
"I-, what? Excuse you?" Lonnie splutters.
"I have had three hours sleep. I'm perfectly excused."
"That is not how that works!" Lonnie scowls, taking a step forward before she pokes his chest.
And then her frown deepens, poking him a second time.
"Lonnie?" Catra tilts her head, rather befouled.
"When the hell did you get tall?" Lonnie growl's, sending the boy a betrayed look.
Only that no. Catra realised - with growing repulsiveness - that man was a more appropriate term to describe him.
She kind of wanted to throw up, now.
"Ah," Kyle smirked, leaning his elbow at the top of Lonnie's head as he pointedly leaned into it. "I believe we call it puberty, Lonnie. I'm sure you've heard of it?"
"Puberty has nothing to do with both of you tagging along." Catra sighed as Lonnie punched Kyle's shoulder. Hard.
"Shouldn't have used the squad chat to message him," Kyle offered unrepentantly.
"That'd be a lot easier if I had another way to contact Rogelio." She sends him a frustrated glance. "Which you're getting, by the way. I don't care if it's unnecessary."
"I am, am I?" Rogelio says dryly.
"To be fair," Lonnie offers, glare still focused towards Kyle, "None of us barely meet up. But when we do, you're never part of it."
Catra frowns, sending the woman a disapproving glance.
None of them had ever talked of Adora's defection. And, at this point, she'd assumed they'd all had this unspoken agreement.
"Not much point, now." Rogelio huffs, scowling as his gaze returns to the window.
Which Catra was happy to humour. The less they'd talk about Adora, the better-
"For the love of the Lord." Lonnie scowls. "She left! It's a done deed. Get over yourself."
Never mind.
"Excuse me?" Rogelio scowls.
"I get it. Adora was pack. But she chose to leave us! It's getting under my skin that you're taking it out on us."
Ah. Catra stills, spine tense as Rogelio lets out a low growl.
Catra's and Rogelio's issues were similar - if formed from completely different reasons.
Pack wasn't quite the correct term for what they called it, though. Rogelio had never been overly needy when it came to socialising and comfort. It was more of a genetic reason in his case. A more territory-like ideal usually applied for what his species experienced.
Catra's problem with Adora was more at a personal level. Hurt at how easy she could leave and betray their home. How easily she could betray her.
Rogelio's was more instinctual. His sense of safety and security had suddenly been broken from her leaving. Which was angering in itself. Adora had known that before leaving. Or had at least been somewhat aware of it.
Catra grimaces, realising they were all trapped in the elevator for this discussion.
"I'm not taking it out on any of you!" Rogelio hisses. "If anything, I'm doing the exact opposite."
"Oh, how silly of me!" Lonnie says, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "It's not like you've been ignoring us! Yes, how very generous of you!"
Rogelio winces even as his stance continues to stay firm. "It isn't like-"
"Actually," Kyle interrupts, crossing his arm impatiently, "that's exactly what happened. Which is why you're going to stop."
"Oh?" Rogelio's eyes narrow. "I am?"
"Well," Kyle smiles, a faint trace of amusement as he points towards her. "We just so happened to have someone that can order you around, don't we?"
Catra's eye twitches when the three of them turn towards her. Expectantly.
What the hell? Catra considers with a disturbing amount of horror. Since when am I the reasonable one?
But-, she's also rather frustrated with him giving them the cold shoulder. And it's entirely true that she can order him around.
Also, she refuses to be the reasonable one, so...
"Sure," She smiles, ignoring his frustrated growl, "I was already planning on having Kyle and Rogelio work together. We could make it a bonding activity."
"Oh, great!" Lonnie says dryly. "Woo! Looking forward to it."
"Oh, do be quiet, you." Catra punches her shoulder, "I'm not the one that was feeling Kyle's muscles." She adds, completely content with her pettiness.
"Wha-? What? I was not-"
"Oh?" Kyle smiles in amusement. "Is that why she was-?"
"Not. A. Word." Lonnie hisses, expression warning as she points a finger towards him.
"Of course," Kyle smiles, "I'm quite capable of keeping secrets, you know."
Catra raises an eyebrow at the genuine blush that graces Lonnie's face.
"Careful," Lonnie warns, "Monsters still grace the halls. And I'm no longer there to tuck you in bed."
And now he blushes, his pale skin far more obvious to his growing embarrassment.
"Well," He forces a smirk on his lips, "My bed is always open for y-"
Kyle stills, face reddening further as Lonnie gapes.
Catra fairs little better, brain trying to comprehend what's just been insinuated.
She doesn't, however, miss the way Rogelio's head snaps towards the two. Eyes wide with a flicker of something she's quite sure is-, well. She does find herself wondering, now.
But she also realised the many repercussions this could bring if not managed carefully. Not to mention she needs to say she's okay with it - which she is - even if she can't come out and say it.
"If," Catra manages to sound like a normal individual, "You absolutely must, I hope you'll at least wait until after I remove some rather outdated laws that could have you court-martialed. Okay?"
There. Nailed it.
She said she was okay with it. That she'd ensure they could be safe from the law. That-
Oh, thank the Horde, Catra thinks just a little desperately as the elevator comes to a stop, door opening as they all practically throw themselves out.
"So," Rogelio offers. His expression remains queer as he turns towards her. "Why exactly did you need me here?"
Catra hums, rather happy to pretend the past two minutes have never happened.
"I need your field of expertise here - since I'm not sure what I'm looking for. I'll do the talking, and you can add on if you think it's necessary." And she comes to a stop, hand reaching for the panel as her teammates send her an incredulous glance. "Why hello!" She grins, sitting on the ground as she crosses her legs. "I was hoping I could have a moment of your time."
The man blinks, staring back incredulously as he slowly forces himself upwards. "Sure," He says, noticing her impatient expression. "Make yourself home, I suppose."
"Thank you, Errapel." Her lips twitch, "I found something rather interesting while exploring the upper archives," She adds, sliding a file towards him. "Rather interesting idea you have there."
Errapel snorts, unbothered with the laying file as he leans back into the wall. "Why thank you. I might have taken it as a compliment. You know, if it hadn't gotten me locked in here." He waves his hands towards the cell, a dramatic if tired movement as he offers a shrug.
Rogelio frowns, leaning forward as he opens the file.
"You wrote this?" He asks the man, eyes widening as his glance flickers towards Catra.
"Yes." Errapel expression becomes torn, hands returning to his lap as he interlaces his fingers. "Yes, I did. It-," He smiles bitterly, "was an idea that started after one of my squadmates died. I realised many other of the soldiers I knew had similar symptoms."
"The Shell Shock theory," She nods, having memorised the entire report
"But this is revolutionary!" Rogelio interrupts, expression having become awed as he stared at the man. "The number of soldiers this could help! We could-"
"Nothing. Obviously." The man snorts. "It's too time-consuming, apparently. Better send them off to the front lines to die quietly."
"Is that why you were thrown in here?" Kyle frowns, peering over Rogelio's shoulder - and Lonnie was right, he had gotten insufferably tall - as he read through the documents.
"The rest of my team died because-, well, it doesn't matter anymore." He shakes his head. "Look. I'm flattered you came all the way down here to tell me you'd read it. But Shadow Weaver will throw you in here with me if she finds out you have. So you're going to put that back where you found it, return to your stations and forget having ever read through my silly ideas, okay?"
"Oh." Lonnie blinks, a flicker of understanding crossing her expression as she turns towards Catra. "I see what you mean. It is funny when people don't realise who they are talking to."
Catra smirks, turning towards the confused man with no hidden amusement. "I never did introduce myself, did I?"
He sends her a weary look. He has sharp instincts, she thinks, offering him a smile full of teeth.
Which is too bad for him, since it means she wants him all the more, now.
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The prisons structure had been one of the first to be constructed for the Horde. In many ways, it made up the core of the army's early days and, perhaps, had even served as a symbol.
She hadn't actively studied the concept, of course, it wasn't like any of this was relative to warfare - and therefore not thought to start with. But its construction was one of the oldest files in the Horde's records. As far as she was aware, it was the third to be created, right after the factory chains and roads used for their weapons.
It wasn't obvious by any means, and if Catra hadn't explored it so extensively the moment she became Force Captain she doubted she would have noticed, but it'd been an ongoing project that had extended throughout a two year period, finishing just three years before the war had been declared, slowly expanding downwards as the influx of prisoners increased.
Of course, that had all been half a century ago. There hadn't been any changes to its structure in over two decades. While the Horde's land had technically always been a monarchy, since the King had been somewhat influenced by his court, it was only in the last two decades when it became a fascist power. It'd been quickly followed by an implementation of law's, one of which included forbidding the need of prisoners.
That had lasted for around a decade - until the defeat of the first Rebellion, leading to some fragmented pockets of resistance that would have taken some few years to defeat.
Only that that wasn't what had happened, was it?
In a completely baffling move, Hordak had-, not quite seceded as a leader; but deferred almost all of the decision making and leadership towards Shadow Weaver.
So what originally would have been around five years of war, had ended up tripling in length so that the man could start his experiments. Experiments which Catra had yet to be given any information or report. She could count on a single hand the number of times she'd had any contact with Hordak in the past six months.
Hordak, who was the highest authority in their chain of command.
She did know that he was constructing a portal now, though. Not because he'd told her. She'd only got that from Entrapta's notes, not him. Because; Oh, of course not, having any form of dialogue with his second in command was too much of an effort, apparently. Hordak forbid that he would talk to her even if only to tell her what inventions she could implement into their army.
D'yavigo. Bloody shut-in.
Either way. It meant that there was noticeable wear throughout the prison. Bad enough that she'd contemplated rebuilding the entire thing, or at least demolishing it after building a new one. Especially when she noticed the wear of the central pillar, which held the entire thing together. A fact she had noticed with her many, many visits that had transpired in the past few days.
As a matter of fact, it'd only been five hours since she'd finished, managing to catch some degree of sleep before some other nuisance had made themselves known.
More specifically, nuisance-who-ruin's-any-form-of-entertainment.
So with that in mind, she walked towards the lowest cell, entirely put out that her list of things to do was growing faster than she could cut through it.
There are times when Catra genuinely wonders if she'd suffered some form of insanity when accepting the title of second in command. How she thought anything would be worth this much effort was beyond her, really.
Coming to a stop, she crossed her arms, releasing a frustrated breath of air as she glared pointedly.
"Oh, hello." The commander - or she assumed they were one - greeted her with a lazy smile, not bothering to lift themselves from the floor they were splayed on. "What brings you to my lovely abode?"
"Something," Catra grit, "along the lines of someone breaking out of their cell. Repeatedly."
"Huh." They replied. "Weird. So, having a good day?"
Her eye twitches. "It's been wonderful. Yes." And then she forces a smile, her teeth in fall display in what she hopes is a clear message. "I hope you found your accommodations to be decent enough. I know there was a complaint or two."
"Oh, it's lovely. The door does get slightly jammed sometimes, though. You might want someone to go through it."
"I like to think it adds some charm to it." Catra snips as she meets his gaze.
After some few moments of silence, she frowns, slowly waving her hand in deliberate movements.
"You might want to stop that. You kind of look like an idiot." They quip.
Catra scowls, refusing to stop as their gaze remains unfocused. "Right. Are you actually-?"
"Who knows. More importantly. Who taught you how to fight?" They roll to their side, moving one leg to the side as Julij lazily stands.
"I taught myself. Why?"
"Oh. You kind of suck, I suppose."
"Actually, I vividly recall something along the lines of mesmerising." She manages to hide her offence, leaning on one leg as she sends a pointless glare.
"That too. You still suck by the way. But that's okay, I was thinking I'd teach you how to fight properly."
"...You do realise you're in prison, right?"
"Well..." They offer a sheepish shrug. "That tends to imply you're able to hold me in here, which, er-, you don't."
"I might be more inclined to say yes if you hadn't spooked half of the warden's personnel," Catra replied drily.
"Even if you weren't going to say yes, it was their own fault for refusing to bring me more meals." Julij smiles, skipping towards her until they were practically touching the barrier. "Besides, I think it'll be fun. And you'll even get something out of it! That's two birds with one stone!"
"I might gain something out of it." Catra sniffs, crossing her arms with only a vague amount of incredulity. "And I am a very petty person."
Which was entirely true. If stabbing herself in the foot meant she got to stab someone else in the foot... well, she'd be one foot short.
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." Julij drawls.
"Well, now I'm inclined to say no."
"But it'd be fun!"
"For you." Catra replies, faintly aware she's mostly arguing to vent her own frustration. "It'll give my people headaches, which means they'll give me headaches. Which are three points as to why I should say no."
"Well," They scowl, the first sign of any form of irritation as they cross their arms. "I don't see why. It's not like the barrier could stop me."
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." Catra echoes, rolling her eyes in expiration.
"Only that I ain't a Lady, so..."
"Neither am I." Catra chirps.
"Yeah, but it's a difference between being a girl and non-binary."
Catra wrinkles her nose in confusion. "...What does not having one and zero's got to do with ladyship?"
"...Nevermind." Julij finally offers, rubbing their forehead in what Catra categorises as a win. "And if I offered to spar after we finished?"
"Deal."
"Huh." Julij tilts their head. "I wouldn't have wasted my time here if I knew you'd reply instantly."
"Why did you feel the need to disturb my people anyway?" Catra sighs, wondering why it's her that's attracting all the weirdos.
Slowly, Julij blinks once. "...Because it's fun?"
...Dam it! Catra sends them a scowl, slamming her hand into the panel as the barrier deactivates. They had to have a good reason as well, didn't they?
As if to make a point, Julij takes a step forward, offering a bright, shameless smile.
Which was fine, really. Catra would get her payback by offering one of the recruit's quarters.
o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.
Not quite sure how I feel about this chapter. It's not terrible, but I feel it's not quite up to the standard I usually want it at - then again, that seems to be the going theme of most of my chapters.
Also, a big, big thank you to Liz for reading through this, who was super amazing with reading through it before it got posted!
Nonetheless, if you felt I should have written something differently, be it personality and/or displays of different states of mentality, please leave a comment! Any advice is welcome and appreciated!
Anyways, I'll See you next time! Ciao!
~ Sapphire and Emeralds