goneawayworld | Justice is my being allowed to do whatever I like. [ CLOSED ]

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Justice is my being allowed to do whatever I like. [ CLOSED ]

Who: Catra, Setsuna, Richard Washburn, Adora shows up later.
What: Catra has racked up a Violation and is getting her just reward
Where: Gym/Exec Level
When: After Planker's punishing obstacle course
Warnings/Notes: PUNISHMENT. Catra is gonna get zapped pretty bad. Physical abuse, mental and emotional anguish.

Catra had done something stupid. She knew she'd done something stupid and yet she couldn't find it in herself to care overly much. She had been so angry, so exhausted, after her run through that torture chamber Planker called an obstacle course she had gone for him, hoping to at least claw a few reminders that she wasn't to be fucked with into his skin.

Unfortunately, a quick zap from the embedded... whatever it was inside of her had put a stop to it and she found herself flat on the floor with the asshole yelling at her, demanding she run the course again to make sure she 'learned her goddamned lesson.' And so she had, teeth grit and anger pouring from every inch of her body. She had run it again with Adora in tow, been cut and bruised and shocked and humiliated again in a dozen small ways until at last she had labored free. Then, of course, she had been summoned. Summoned by Washburn so that she could be given a stern talking to, no doubt. Setsuna had been dragged along too, probably because she had been her partner in crime during the inciting incident, and was needed to give evidence. Or just to be yelled at. Catra, still feeling disgusting, stepped out onto the executive level and made her way past chattering office workers and executive assistants. So far she had pointedly ignored Setsuna--she didn't want to talk to anyone, she just wanted to claws every single bastard's eyes out and gloat about it.

The receptionist took one look (and one whiff) of the pair and then hurried them inside a side room, saying that 'Mister Washburn will be right with you.' That left the pair in a closed little lounge-slash-meeting room with sleek, modern furniture far nicer than anything that they saw on their own level. Catra immediately sprawled across one of the couches, kicking her feet up.

"If he expects me to say sorry, he has another thing coming..." She said sullenly, half to herself.

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"Shut up and let me go take a shower? You could do that with me," Catra answers sarcastically. She's still sprawled on her couch, coolly disinterested in whatever it is this guy has to tell her. She tucks her hands behind her head.

"What do you call the crap he put us through, then? That crap was torture. So I'm supposed to just keep putting up with the stuff he excuses as physical training? Even in the evil Horde they didn't just torture us like that! And we were called the Horde!" Catra insists. She's rolling her eyes, already writing this idiot off as some pencil-pushing dweeb.

"No matter what we do, you'll find something wrong so I don't see how a handbook helps anyone."

"The fate of the world is at stake but that doesn't mean we want to throw you into things unprepared. I know Mr. Planker's training is a little rough and...unorthodox. But it means that you'll be able to face down whatever's out there without any trouble at all."

Or at least that's what some of them need to think, that it won't be that hard. While many Jorgmund execs are heartless, some still cling to the thin veneer of morality. Throwing unwilling people into a metaphorical wood-chipper made that harder.

"His training is a little rough but you're still here, right? Perfectly fine. Which means your behavior is out of line." He sighs. "Look, we have a strike system here at Jorgmund before we let people go. I don't want to give you your first strike, but it seems like you're not sorry at all."

"You want to join us in the obstacle course, then? Maybe come down for our morning workout routines? You're facing this stuff down too." Catra asks, her anger and pain overriding her good sense. If she was smart, she'd shut up and take her lumps but she's fairly simmering with anger still.

"I didn't ask to be here. Why should I be sorry for wanting to get back at the guy who's been making me miserable? Anyone who says that they wouldn't is lying." Maybe not, but Catra is so deep in her own feelings that considering anyone else in the moment feels impossible.

"Just give me my stupid strike and let me go wash this stink off myself."

"Well, I - I'm definitely not powerful enough to be in the field. And you -"

He looks flustered at the prospect of actually pulling the trigger on that strike. It's one thing to have the threat of the shock collars hanging over their heads, to only use the smaller zaps to incapacitate them if they attack. It's another to take a moment to let that cruelty breathe.

"You are making this so difficult. I don't want to discipline you. We could - could just treat this as a teaching moment."

But the problem with people like Richard Washburn is they reach that closed door of cruel things they could choose to walk away from, and instead of shoving furniture in front of it so it never opens, they look fearfully at the other uncertain paths they could walk instead, open the door, and walk through.

Maybe they tell themselves they have no other choice, but they do. Maybe they tell themselves it's not really as bad as all that, but it is.

"But I can see that I'm not going to convince you any other way, am I?"

His hand is shaking as he pulls out the little clicker.

That he doesn't actually want to hit the button stops mattering the second he hits it.

Edited 2020-06-12 03:19 (UTC)

"Really? Look at you, you're pathetic. Do it already!" Catra pushes herself up to her feet, tail lashing as she watches Washburn with an intense, baleful gaze.

"You don't want us to be forced to do this, you don't want to discipline us, then why are we even he--" Catra feels vindicated. She has seen the human weakness in Richard Washburn and feels that she knows him for the spineless self-justifying nothing of a man he is. That pointed question and that brief moment of personal triumph are washed away in the next moment as pain hits her. Catra had said she was used to pain, and that was true. She had been electrocuted and tortured in similar ways when she was younger. Experience doesn't make it any less painful and this is a different sort of pain, something that seems to gnaw directly on her nerves.

Catra goes stiff, her whole body quvering as she collapses into a heap on the ground, jerking and twitching. She tries to curl into herself, to find something that will stop the excruciating sensation that crawls across every inch of her. Tears spring into her eyes and she cannot stop them. She is screaming, though she doesn't realize it. It's a high pitched, pitiful sound of pain and distress, rising in volume and pitch until it is a single yowling keen of hurt and anguish that fills the room. It goes on and on, the poor girl barely having the time or thought to breathe and her breath is brief and ragged, feels like it being drawn through a straw made of sandpaper.

A minute, it turns out, is a very long time both to be writhing on the floor in pain and to be the ones watching it happen.

Edited (keep seeing stuff i wanna correct i'm sorry) 2020-06-12 03:36 (UTC)

Setsuna is immediately beside her, cradling the older girl protectively, just trying to be - there, more than anything. She - eventually she wrenches her eyes away from Catra, smooths away the raw agony at seeing her - friend, yes, even if neither of them can say it to the other, right now - in so much pain, and there being nothing she can do about it, a calm, cold mask slipping over all she wants to show, and she turns and - fixes Washburn with a hollow, measured look: the kind you'd give someone when you're recording their every heartbeat, like a pitiless, merciless robot, tallying up what they're actually worth and you want them to see the amount that comes up behind your eyes after you have, to three decimal places.

"She doesn't deserve this. But it isn't about deserving, is it? This is the only way you can sleep at night, and know you've done what you're supposed to do. Everything in the right place. Order, and organization, as it should be."

She just looks so calm, and so cold. It doesn't match the rest of her, the way she bends like she wants to pull Catra close and take the pain into herself so Catra doesn't have to take it alone, the tense shiver in her shoulders.

"I'm sure you wanted to hate doing it a little less. I'm sure -" her voice catches in her throat - "someone else would have done it, anyway. But someone else didn't do it to Catra, Mister Washburn. You did."

Setsuna's hand shakes, clawed in frustration and regret, as she yearns to just grab Catra and pull her close and - meticulously holds herself back from it. For the moment. "And I saw you do it."

She shuts her eyes, tight, and the coldness goes out of her face. She tries to grab for Catra's hand, then, at last, as the minute draws to an end, swallowing tight against a hard lump in her throat.

"... I honestly wish you'd shocked me too."

Her words have clearly gotten to him, as has the entire situation. But what's done is done, it's not something he can take back. And it's something he knows he'll have to get used to, to keep such a cushy job.

"Now now," he says shakily. "There's no need for that. This is just a disciplinary measure and now Ms. Catra knows to be a little less violent towards her coworkers in the future."

He stands up, still shaking slightly, trying to still it. He tucks the clicker away, for now. There's the chance Setsuna might attack but he thinks he'll be able to reach for it again in time. Catra, on the other hand, will likely need time to get her breath back first.

"This was your first strike. Future ones will be more...unpleasant. And longer. If you get up to five, the fifth will lead to a - a...termination of your employment."

To have something to do with his shaking hands, he straightens his tie.

"We'll give you a little time to catch your breath and then someone will stop by to take you back to the New Hire decks. In the future, please do keep the potential consequences in mind when considering your actions and treatment of rig staff. Let's not make these HR issues a pattern."

And then he turns to go.

Catra is still twitching, still curled in against herself as the minute of agony comes to an end. Saying it's ended, though, is perhaps a bit too simple. The induced shock has gone, the current switched off, but the pain lingers and her muscles and nerves still pop and sizzle with a lingering ghostly sensation that keeps her where she is. In her thrashing, frantic pain she had reached out, desperate for something, anything to anchor herself and her hands are clinging to Setsuna, claws starting to press through clothing and perhaps even skin.

"Ffff--" She can't make her mouth form words. She wants to say 'fuck you,' to tell him that she isn't going to be some good little drone for him and his asshole buddies. She can't make the words come, though and instead, she just whimpers and lays where she is on the floor, helpless and sobbing. Weak.

She hates this. She hates him. She hates everyone on this stupid rig.

Setsuna grabs Catra tight, squeezes her hard in a returned hug, and holds her like she's afraid the older girl's going to fall apart if she doesn't keep a good, solid grip on every part of her Setsuna's hands can hold onto - her embrace only loosens for a moment, while she's catching her breath, and looking back at Washburn trying to escape his own actions.

"Planker isn't our coworker. He's yours. If you want us to believe you're doing any of this for our own good, you should ..." Anger overwhelms her, unsteadies her attempt at keeping a coherency she really doesn't want to feel in her voice. "You should remember that, next time you decide to do this to one of us."

Her face crumbles, the mask cracking into a thousand lines of rage and grief, as she begins the hard part of trying to help Catra to her feet, get her out of here, away from - this. She doesn't shout it, but her voice feels ripped out of the deepest part of her as she hurls the words at his pencilnecked, retreating shape. "Because she is one of us! Whether you want to treat her like she isn't or not! You can call her behavior a - a 'problem for the efficient running of this operation' or whatever you choose to file this as, all you want, but you're not helping her, you're just looking for ways to chase her up a tree! What are you trying to do, Mister Washburn?! Are you trying to save the world, or just keep yourself safe from - from living in it?"

She is a sight, covered as she still is in bruises and flaking dried scabs and explosives residue, gluey gunk, coated in awful-smelling skunk-odor, her face streaked with dried tear-tracks and fresh wetness, hair clammily stuck to her forehead, Jorgmund-permitted uniform in terrible disrepair. Her eyes have never been redder. And still she struggles to hold her friend up as best she can, and still she struggles to browbeat some empathy into the man who just hurt her friend like this, she still keeps trying ...

... forget it, Setsuna, it's ~~Chinatown~~ Jorgmund.

He pauses just slightly in the doorway, but doesn't stop, doesn't look back. He keeps moving and then he's gone.

Catra hates this. Catra feels nothing but hate, it seems, in this moment. Hate for Jorgmund. Hate for Planker. Hate for Washburn. Hate for how weak and pathetic she looks in this moment, clinging helplessly to a younger girl as she tries to make her muscles work again. She tries to force herself upright and finds that sadly, her legs still don't want to work yet and instead she collapses against Setsuna. Her eyes are filled with angry, humiliated tears that she wills not to fall--but of course, as if to compound her misery, they do.

"Don't look at me--!" She hisses. It's an absurd demand, of course, when Setsuna is the only thing keeping her even halfway on her feet. Everything hurts still and putting one foot in front of the other is an exercise in misery. Her normal poise and grace are gone, replaced by helpless doddering.

"I'll kill them--I'll kill every last one of them--"

Setsuna has half a dozen things she wants to say at once, like we need to work on your creativity under duress or do you want another dose of their 'medicine' badly enough to goad them into it this fast or please, shut up, for your own good, but in lieu of knowing which will actually help, instead of make the situation ineffably worse than Catra probably could left to her own devices, she opts for keeping her thoughts to herself and leaving it to Catra to make it worse on her own, as that will at least hopefully keep the aftermath ... survivable, in theory, for them both.

There's only so much self-destruction one single person's capable of, after all. Right?

Right.

So Setsuna gamely says nothing, and wipes at her forehead with one hand before returning it to helping keep Catra upright, braced, and at least able to walk somewhat out of there, turning the older girl and, if she has to, dragging her away from the executive suite, on the long and miserable walk back to the New Hire section of the Rig, quiet as a goddamned churchmouse but certainly not as cheery.

It isn't until they're on their way down, and out of the line of sight of any potentially ranking Jorgmund staff, that she utters a single word, seemingly devoted entirely to doing one thing and one thing only - keeping Catra on her feet in front of anyone watching.

And then, once there's a wall to put their backs to - "Have you ever killed anyone before, Catra?" she says, softly enough that only the other girl could have a prayer of overhearing.

Catra's self-destruction has no limits, unfortunately. She had been willing to throw a switch that very well could have destroyed her world because of how hurt and angry she was. She is willing throw herself into mortal danger and to let herself die if need be to make up the pain she has caused Adora. Even if she won't say it out loud. So... perhaps her self-destruction has limits, but not healthy ones. Tears dry in her fur and her head aches. All Catra wants now is sleep.

By the time they're on the way down to the New Hire sections, most of the feeling has returned to Catra's legs. She can mostly walk--even if Setsuna's support is grudgingly accepted. Catra even mutters a faint 'thanks' as she navigates a stairwell, legs protesting painfully with every step downwards she takes. As they reach a landing, someplace safe to rest, she joins Setsuna in leaning back against the wall. She closes her eyes against the harsh florescent lights overhead--and then hears Setsuna's question. It stabs at her, asking a question which Catra isn't really sure she has an answer for.

She had tried, certainly. Really tried in certain moments when she had been angry enough. And she had left Tung Lashor (what a stupid name) in quicksand, though she had no idea if he had escaped and slunk away or actually died there. There was... Angella. Which had been a side-effect of her actions, not something she had necessarily meant to do.

But she had done it.

"Yeah," she finally says in a quiet voice.

Setsuna's silent, a moment, in response. Then her arms squeeze Catra a little tighter, almost by reflex, in solidarity.

"Me too," she says, just as softly.

For now, she just wants to leave it at that. They both need sleep, a change of clothes, and a shower, and she's so tired she's not even sure she cares about which order they get themselves either.

It would be a kind thing, if the universe let them get all three in some sort of peace. It would be.

There's the sound of pounding feet on the stairs as someone comes running up from below. There's labored breathing - even Adora can't really sprint up so many flights - but she's still doing it, taking it a few steps at a time even. Her eyes are wide as she skids to a halt at the bottom of the flight and stares up at the two of them. She'd heard that Catra got dragged away - a punishment or something - and she wasn't going to just sit around and wait. She has terrible memories of her childhood flashing through her mind, of Shadow Weaver torturing Catra. Of everything g oing terribly wrong because she wasn't strong enough.

"Catra? Catra!" There's a note of panic in her voice and then she's coming up the last flight of stairs, bee-lining straight for her.

"Catra! Are you OK?" She glances at Setsuna, "Is she OK? What happened-?"

"I wish I hadn't done it," Catra admits in a faint voice that doesn't even crack a whisper. The first time she has allowed herself to show anything like regret to Setsuna--or anyone, really. Perhaps it's because she's so tired. Later, she might act like it hadn't happened or maybe just call Setsuna a liar if she brings it up.

Catra actually starts to lean in against Setsuna's shoulder, her shoulders hunching as she feels a fresh wave of guilt and regret and shame coming on. But Setsuna's here, still, and maybe she gets it on a level no one else really has, even if no one will ever really get it. Then Adora comes flying up the stairs and Catra jerks further upright, not wanting to be seen leaning against anyone. She can't look weak, especially not in front of Adora. She looks down at Adora, blinks once or twice.

"I'm fine!" She tries to protest, but she's still having trouble standing on her own, what with having run the obstacle course twice and then being, you know, nerve shocked for sixty seconds. She's hit the point of pure physical exhaustion and her body is a filthy traitor.

Setsuna looks between them, concern and desire to get Adora to help warring with her worry that by helping Adora help will read as a - betrayal, somehow, in Catra's deeply frayed psyche, right now.

She shuts her eyes and makes a decision, hoping she doesn't regret it later, but Catra - needs help, and she cares too much about Catra, is too tired, herself, to believe she can really handle this by herself, and she knows Catra knows this, too.

"Catra. You are not fine. Adora just wants to help. And we ... need her help, right now. Hard as it's going to be to accept, I'm sure. But - neither of us ... is fine," she says, somewhat painfully.

She keeps her gaze on Catra a full conversational beat after that, before she tilts her head in Adora's direction and looks at the other girl, nodding acknowledgement to her, speaking to her sidelong. It takes her a moment to figure out how to say what she wants to say, here. "They, um, took us aside so ... she could be disciplined."

The way Setsuna emphasizes 'disciplined', so bitter and deadened in her tone as she does so, leaves no doubt in anyone's ears that she knows this euphemism carries so much worse implications beneath it.

Setsuna looks down at the floor, then up at Adora, and her eyes are firm, but there are wavering tears in them, all the same. "When she wasn't 'cooperative' enough for them, they activated the nanite chain they put in us after we arrived." Her lips press together in a silent line, after that. Saying more feels like a line she isn't willing to cross; Adora can fill in the rest for herself. She takes in a deep, shuddering breath, trying not to feel like she can feel a weight on her own chest, where she knows the surgical incision was made.

"She needs ... to get back to our dorm. Then she needs to rest. Can you help me get her there? I can barely stay upright, myself ..."

She trails off, trying to figure out something else to offer, and failing. She's so tired, and wishing with every inch of herself that she could stop being tired, and be actually useful, instead.

Adora is tired, too. She's had to run the obstacle course. Her eyes and throat still sting from the tear gas and there are a dozen aches and pains and tiny scrapes all over her body and now she almost wishes for the more familiar, tired ache of She-Ra - of having the ability to heal all of the wounds and little injuries instead of feeling bone tired herself. She's been shocked, jabbed, stung, gassed. She's still here, still on her feet, because if she doesn't help, if she can't help, then who will? And if she fails, what use is she? If she can't help, what good does she do? Isn't she worthless if she can't be the strong bulwark for people to lean on and shelter behind?

She listens to the explanation with an expression that goes from dismayed to angry to worried. There are too many emotions. She wants to keep going up the stairs until she can find the door and bust it in and drag the man out from behind his desk and beat his face in until he can't hurt anyone anymore. Not her, not Catra, not anyone. But especially Catra.

She can't do that though. Her fingers twitch and grasp at nothing and then she turns to slide an arm around Catra - and offers the other to Setsuna. She's not leaving either of them behind. They can both lean on her on their way down.

"We're going down, then," she says matter-of-factly, "Catra, I know you don't want my help, but just take it. Please. Let me help you just this once... Setsuna, thanks. For being there with her."

Once again she wishes for She-Ra's strength. She could clean this whole rig out. She could carry both of them down single-handedly. But as it is they'll have to hobble.

"I don't need her help--I don't matter anyways," Catra says sharply, trying to deflect Setsuna's concern. Her voice is sharp and angry and desperate, aching and raw from the screaming she had done earlier. She feels humiliated and disgusted. Why are they so concerned with her? Why do they want to help her? She doesn't need it, and if she did, she wouldn't be worth the effort. Every inche of her hurts and despite herself all she wants to do is hug Adora and cry. Of course, she can't have that. She's not allowed to have good things in her life. She flinches as Setsuna outlines what happened upstairs, her humiliation and anger only growing. Why do they even care? They don't--they only pretend. Or maybe they just see how pathetic and worthless she is and feel the need to pity her.

"I can look out for myself, no one has to waste time trying to help me. Just leave me alone!" Stubborn to the last, Catra tries to prove her point. She shoves off from the wall and tries to take a few steps towards the stairway down, only for her muscles to give out on the way. She stumbles forward and fortunately, Adora is there to catch her before she pitches head first down the metal stairs.

"Don't--don't say anything," Catra snaps at the pair of them as she relents. She lets out a faint, unhappy sound and leans in against Adora as the three of them start to hobble down the stairs. She's starting to cry again, hot angry tears that roll silently down her cheeks. It's not enough that they hurt her, they had to make her helpless and weak, too. They had to tear away the lie of self-sufficiency and expose just how worthless she really is.

"I hate them. I hate all of them," she adds in her quiet, hoarse whisper.

"Yes, you do." It's a quiet reply but no less firm for it. Setsuna sucks in a breath, reasserting her grip a Catra's side, behind her, backing her up just like she said she would. "Yes, you do," she repeats, emphatically. "Whether you need anyone's help or not, you still matter to both of us so we're giving it to you, anyway."

Patient, angry, hurting, exhausted, of this place, of Catra's stubbornness, of her own inability to be useful - the whole spectrum of bruising, not just the physical, shades the tone of her voice.

"She's always been this stubborn, hasn't she?" Setsuna says, over Catra's shoulder, to Adora, as they both double up on the job of keeping Catra upright. "No wonder she finds it so hard to forgive you for leaving."

She does not - quite - regret the words as, or after, they leave her mouth. She means them, and the sentiment, the piercing frustration, behind them, too much for that. But she does know it's probably something she wouldn't have said aloud, right now, if she'd been less spent to the bone beforehand.

"I'm not about to forgive them for this, either," she says, smoothing over the roughness of the loaded observation she just offered by following Catra's lead, instead. "I can be my own kind of stubborn, when I need to be."

Catra's words cut. They always do. And it feels like more of the same - the same refusal to accept help, the same refusal to want anything to do with her and there's a spike of anger in her chest. She bites back some of the words she'd like to say as Setsuna steps in. She listens as they hobble down the stairs together, one slow step at time. Their voices echo in the stairwell, but Adora's not about to care whether they're overheard right now.

"She's always been stubborn. We both are," Adora replies, shooting Setsuna a look over Catra's head.

"And whether she forgives me or not, that's up to her," she continues, expression set, "But if she really doesn't want my help, if she really wants nothing to do with me, then fine. I can leave her in your room and maybe we can just... be coworkers until we get out of here and then we can go our separate ways. If that's what she really wants."

Catra is tired. She is so, so tired. She doesn't think she's ever felt this exhausted before--her whole body feels like it might simply fall out from under her at any moment, and each step is fresh aches and pains that radiate through her whole body. She whines softly as an ankle wobbles, but the support of the others keeps her from turning it or worse.

"I know you're just doing this because you feel sorry for me," she insists in a hoarse croak, her shame and guilt crushing down on her as they always seem to do. She can't even bring herself to feel angry at Setsuna, because she's right. Probably. She has nursed the hurt and pain of Adora's departure for so long, it's like a constant friend these days. Of course, Adora threatens to just... Go. To leave her alone, to separate once they're free of this place and i feels overwhelming. She doesn't want Adora gone--she wants Adora with her, but to admit that is to make herself vulnerable, to make herself small. To open herself to rejection.

"Adora," her voice shakes and Catra hates it. Hates that Setsuna is here to listen to her being weak and helpless and desperate.

"...Stay." Her hand gropes, tries to find Adora's wrist or something else she can grab hold of to anchor herself.

"Please. Stay." Please, I miss you. I miss you and I want you so badly it hurts is what she wants to say. Of course, she can't say that. She never could say that. Because Adora doesn't want her the same way that Catra wants Adora. She probably never will.

Setsuna is tired enough that she's ready to snap at one or the both of them if they keep pushing at each other like this when what they all really need to do is help Catra recover right now - she bends as Catra nearly goes down on her ankle, shifting rapidly to keep the older girl from doing anything awful to it that the obstacle course runs and the convulsions didn't already do - and then Catra's voice breaks and Setsuna's words catch in the back of her throat. Her shoulders go rigid and she suddenly finds herself looking forcefully away, awkward and slightly ashamed to be a witness to this level of vulnerability, after all that has happened today.

She's supposed to be helping Catra heal, or at least recover from this, after all - maybe she'll have to open a few wounds in the process to get them cleaned well and good but it's not her place to stand inside them and pry. This feels a lot like prying.

She flashes back, uncomfortably vividly, to her own conversation with Adora, at the welcome party, when they both talked about Adora's relationship with Catra, before she'd realized they were talking about Catra, and swallows heavily, uncomfortably silent.

She just keeps trying to put one foot in front of the other, carrying Catra, dreading and hoping and waiting on - whatever it is Adora will say, being handed such an ask.

Adora was prepared to have her heart shatter, but then - then Catra does something unexpected. She knows Setsuna is right there, that she shouldn't be doing this in front of other people, but she's honestly sick of Catra always pushing her away, no matter what she does. If that's what she wants, it's what she'll get. But Catra - Catra asks her to stay. She feels fingers close around her wrist and her hand shifts to interlace their fingers and squeeze.

"...OK."

She nods and breathes out. She doesn't smile, because there's still so much to do, so much to go through, but the step that Catra has just taken is immense and she feels a bit of a weight lift off of her chest.

"Let's get you to a shower, OK? We can get you cleaned up."

She shoots a look at Setsuna and arches a brow in a silent question. Is that OK? Will she be along for the ride? To Help?

When Adora's fingers lace with hers, Catra feels as if there is a weight gone from her. She isn't happy--she's not sure she has the energy to be happy now. It's relief, it's a feeling that maybe she is not quite so hopeless and worthless after all, if Adora is agreeing to stay. Catra squeezes tight in return.

"...Someone on the network said there was a bath to soak in. For the... animal. Thing. That sprayed us," Catra says quietly. She and Setsuna do smell rather, uh, skunky for lack of a better term. At least she's being productive now? Or at least not fighting.

Setsuna just sighs in relief, or is it a sob, it's hard to tell.

She tries very hard not to look like she's in any way going to have any comment on what transpired just now because she very much does not want to accidentally shatter - this. Whatever this is. She's talked to Adora, and Catra, just enough now, to know how much they both probably wanted this and also assumed, for multiple reasons, that it'd never happen, or that the other person would allow it.

"Thank you," she says, after a moment, and giving Adora a firm nod. "For staying." She is, the gesture is clear, also staying. She is also helping. This - being here for Catra - is a thing she's committed herself to being a part of, too.

And then she does a slight full-body shiver, refocusing on the matters at hand. They do, in fact, still smell horrifying, because they haven't cleaned up at all, and - "Oh. I ... haven't looked at the network at all, to know anything about that ... will a shower not be enough to get this smell off?"

She sounds almost comically distraught at the thought that this might be true. What kind of thing was that, that they sprayed them down with.

"I have no idea about the smell..." Adora wrinkles her nose, "But it can't hurt, right? Besides, getting cleaned up sounds like a great idea to me."

The tension seems to have eased just a little and she's grateful. She shoots Setsuna a little smile behind Catra's head as they start on the next set of stairs. Having someone to help is honestly great, even if she feels a little awkward about that argument. And Setsuna is a good person - she understands.

"I'm getting covered in it too, so we might as well all go, right?"

Catra is too exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally to make much more fuss. She wants to get down the stairs, she wants to get into the bath she had heard about and stay there until she turns into a wrinkled, fuzzy prune. She clings to Adora, hard, her body trembling as they take each painful stair.

"...Okay," she says quietly, agreeing to whatever it is that Adora has proposed. "Okay. Yeah. I just want to stop smelling like this." She wants to stop feeling like this but she suspects the only thing that will help there is rest.

"Do you think they'll give me the day off tomorrow?" she says weakly, her voice tinged with some sarcasm. It's a joke. Of course they won't.

Edited 2020-06-16 17:11 (UTC)

"I'm going to fight them off at the door if they don't," Setsuna says, tone deceptively light, for all that the humor in her voice is genuine. "You're going to get some rest! And I'm going to make sure of it."

She pauses, then smiles over Catra's shoulder. "Adora's welcome to help me bar the doorway, too, if you'd like."

And then maybe they can have a conversation about Catra, the two of them, that Setsuna's even more ready to have with Adora than she already was before all this started - an actual conversation, too, like she'd wanted.

For now, though ... "Which way is it to the, uhm, special bath, exactly ...?"

"I'm with Setsuna on that one," Adora nods, "If they don't, they'll have to get through me, too."

The question makes her furrow her brow. She'll have to check her communicator and she starts to dig it out of her pocket with her free hand as they reach the next landing. She's mostly just glad Catra isn't dead, even if she's burning with rage at the people who would do this to her.

"Uh, one second-"

"I think..." Catra is trying to string thoughts together and make a coherent sentence, but her exhaustion is making that a bit difficult.

"Kevin said something about the showers?" She says finally as she leans up against Adora. The pause has given her a moment of rest, but they still have stairs and stairs to go. Every muscle in her body feels like it's creaking when she moves, like some kind of demented old structure that's threatening to collapse in on itself at a moment's notice. Whether or not she gets the day off, she has a feeling that Setsuna and Adora are serious. Which is surprising. Nice, though.

"I'll be fine," she tries to insist stubbornly, though it's not the same kind of aggressive denial of aid that she had been uttering a few minutes before. Instead it's an insistence that they needn't worry about her. Perhaps the same in practice, though not in motivation.

"Just. Need sleep."

"Then we are going ... to the showers," Setsuna says, as certainly as she can manage to sound, and begins to help nudge/carry Catra with that destination specifically in mind, instead of generally "the baths, and dorms, and everything that can can all 'our' part of the Rig is that way".

As they walk, she sucks in a breath, and the dogged determination of earlier slips back into her voice. "I am not fine, Catra, and I didn't just get zapped for an entire minute, or run the obstacle course twice. I just ran it the once ... and I'm not fine. You are not fine."

She looks straight ahead, pressing her mouth together. "You can be fine after we've gotten you cleaned up and you've had time to rest. Worry about being fine then."

"Setsuna's right," Adora agrees with a firm nod and a firmer grip on Catra. She's not about to let her slump or fall and at this point she's half-carrying her down the stairs as they go (with help from Setsuna), "That course kicked the crap out of me and you had to do it twice and then got fried!"

They're finally reaching 'their' level and the exit to the stairwell looms.

"No more arguing. OK?"

"Adora, we both know that I am way tougher than you," Catra cracks in a wheezy, exhausted voice. She sounds halfway intoxicated, or like she might well just fall asleep on her feet now that the adrenaline rush of being tortured is finally starting to die down. She stumbles a little as they finally hit the New Hire floor of the rig, but the support from either side of her keeps her upright.

"Ughhh you two are so much alike sometimes," Catra mumbles, sounding resigned and a bit grumpy as they start down towards the showers. "But fine. I'll shut my stupid mouth."

Setsuna just starts tittering slightly hysterically at Catra's observation, an open-mouthed laugh that chokes itself on her own exhaustion more than anything else.

"Adora said the same thing to me, once," she says, her smile dimpling her cheeks, it's so broad, "did you know that?"

Won't be long now. The promise of relief after all this hellaciously hard walking - the Rig has never felt so vast before - almost makes Setsuna's own legs buckle, but they're so close, it gives her the strength to pull herself together instead.

Adora's in better shape than either of them and again she finds herself wishing to be She-Ra. She laughs along with Setsuna, an exhausted smile curving over her face.

"Kind of wish I still had the sword. I could carry both of you without a problem..."

"What, that you and here are really alike? 'Causer it's true!" Catra protests. Her voice is weary but she makes herself keep moving, one foot in front of the other. Every step is another one closer to the sweet, sweet relief of hot water and the removal of this stink from her fur.

"I can't believe they got you but not the sword--wait, right. Broken. Ugh."

This line of thought catches Setsuna off guard, and she does a slight stumble in her walk, eyes blinking wide. "Does Adora ... have a magical transformation friend, too?"

She ... doesn't say 'fairy', she doesn't assume everything works the way it does for Cures as it does everywhere else, but she's startled enough it's a near thing.

"I, uh, had a sword, but it's broken... I guess Swift Wind count as a magical transformation friend?" She shoulders the door open. Home stretch. Showers are just around the corner.

"I broke the sword before I got here, though..."

"I still can't believe you broke it. Well, I can. Because that's exactly something you would do. But--Actually never mind." Catra trails off. She's not in the shape to have this conversation and she can't focus. Her head hurts, along with everything else.

"This place sucks," she croaks after a moment of silence.

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Justice is my being allowed to do whatever I like. [ CLOSED ]

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