purrrnicious | Heart Game: Run #3

Mm, that's what I was thinking.

Alright, let's try the lift then and go up to the next floor.

There are five levels including the main floor that you can access. Where would you like to go? They are labelled:

Floor 2 - Childhood
Floor 3 - Cadet
Floor 4 - Force Captain
Floor 5 - (Whatever label was here has been scratched out.)]

. . .

[ Glancing at Crown. ]

What do you think? Knowing that things went south with Adora-san, I have a feeling we ought to check out either Floor 5 or 4. Kohime said that the Core was the one who drew all those pictures. And in all of the pictures, Kohime herself was only drawn as second best. I know that one of the pictures labeled Adora as a Force Captain...

And as for the 5th... well, some obvious emotions are associated with that.

[hmmm...

hitting 5]

Might as well start from the top and work down.

[When you enter this floor, there are only three doors. The air is unnaturally calm and stale. Every door is closed, but when you approach, you can’t see inside at all. Unlike the cells on the other floors, they’re solid metal, and don't appear to have any kind of lock.]

. . .

If we tried to just bust them down with our princess powers, you don't suppose that would sound off any alarms, do you?

... probably.

[holds up his left arm]

Which door, do you think?

Let's try lucky number one!

[OK, COOL.

... except he's just gonna open the door]

HIY---

aaa.....

[ Oh. ]

. . . . . . . . Or I guess we can just open them.

[You don't even have to touch anything this time. As soon as you open the door, you fade into a memory from Catra's perspective.

This memory starts with Catra entering Hordak's ~inner sanctum~ -- one huge research lab with a big throne sitting up a dias at the back. She comes in and calls for Lord Hordak, not seeing him immediately -- instead, his creepy little flying imp creature is clinging to a pipe staring at her. He calls out to her, telling her to state her purpose, and she approaches to tell him she thought they should touch base and work on planning their next moves against the rebellion. She doesn't really know what she's doing, she's just trying really hard -- she wants to impress Hordak, wants him to value her.

So maybe unsurprisingly, it doesn't really go the way she'd hoped. He cuts her off, asking if wasting their advantage while the Whispering Woods regrew or letting herself get captured was part of her plan. He pulls a lever, activating a device that generates some sort of field. She doesn't recognize what it is.

Hordak: Etheria's atmosphere has proved to be a complicating variable in my experiments.

Catra: I–– [She starts coughing.]

Hordak: I just removed that variable. Tell me, Force Captain. How is your breathing?

Catra can't actually answer –– she's been gasping for air, whatever the device did rendered it completely unbreathable, and she's starting to panic, her vision starting to blur. Hordak heads back to the lever after watching her struggle for a moment and deactivates the field, allowing her to gasp in a desperate and badly needed breath.

Hordak: Pathetic, just like everything on this backwards planet. Do you know what the definition of failure is, Force Captain? Failure is when something ceases to serve a purpose. When that happens, it becomes worthless to me. Thus far, your performance has been lacking. [He again rests his hand on the lever, a threat.]

Catra: I. . . I haven't failed yet. No one knows how to take the princesses down better than me. Trust me and let me do that.

There's a tense moment where Hordak is just staring at her, measuring, while she tries to look resolutely back –– but she can't help but keep flicking her gaze nervously to the lever Hordak still rests his hand on. Finally, he releases it.

Hordak: You say you can defeat the rebellion. Prove it. You are dismissed.

You experience fear and panic right as you can't breathe, knowing this person will hurt you, kill you –– maybe the odd thing is that in the memory there's nothing all that unbelievable or unusual about that. It's how the Horde works.]

[OFFICIALLY HATES THE HORDE]

[ HATES.

She has one hand up to her throat, the other digging into his shoulder as the memory fades and she realizes that no they aren't choking, this is a memory and it's over.

But she sure does hate the horde. ]

HAH--

[GONNA BE ANOTHER MOMENT FOR HIM BECAUSE SURE AIN'T THE FIRST TIME HE GOT NEAR SUFFOCATED VIA VACUUM]

[ Once she has her breath and is a little calmer, she kneels down beside him to rest a hand on his back. ]

Just rest a minute.

Are you going to be okay?

Edited 2020-02-22 05:28 (UTC)

M-m'fine. I...

[he's shaking but he's. getting himself up. taking deep, careful breaths]

M'not unfamiliar... suffocating.

[HE CAN HANDLE IT]

. . . That's not really something I like the idea of you getting familiar with.

[ Either way, she's going to try and help steady him. ]

Come on... let's get out of this room. We can go to the next once you're ready.

I'm ready...

[he doesn't sound all that steady but he's on his feet, accepting her help though already trying to do it on his own]

Alright.

[ She'll watch him carefully, but-- she'll try to be respectful of his pride, too. Either way, she'll lead the way into room 2. And... actually, just open it too. ]

[Another memory, this is a long one.

[The memory starts in the prison. Catra stands before Shadow Weaver in her cell, a tray of food in her hands. Hidden in the tray is a small four-point badge, something Shadow Weaver had earlier asked her for. She’s still not sure why she brought it. She’s not sure yet she’s going to leave it, either.

“So, have you come up with anything to save your skin?” she asks, and the answer is, “You know I haven’t.”

Catra approaches and drops the tray in front of the older woman, letting its really unappetizing contents splatter all over the floor.

“Why do you insist on delivering my meals yourself? Surely you have more important things to do,” the sorceress asks from where she’s seated on the floor.

Catra crosses to the wall and leans up against it casually with a faint smile, her arms crossed, and replies, “I guess I just like seeing you in shackles.”

“We both know that’s not the only reason. What do you want from me, Catra?”

Catra almost immediately drops her act, looking somber, unsure. She asks ‘Why’ before faltering, gathers a breath and sighs, then tries again, “Why did you treat me the way you did? Why was I never good enough for you? Really. I want to know.”

Shadow Weaver narrows her eyes briefly before looking aside.

“Because you remind me of myself. You always have. Nothing was ever easy for me, either. I wasn’t born to power like Adora and others. I had to earn my power, fight for it. Why should it be any different for you?”

“I was a child when you took me in! What could I possibly have done to deserve the way you treated me?! You are old, and bitter, and weak!” Catra shakes her head, wraps her arms around herself defensively and drops to the floor to kneel before Shadow Weaver, very clearly upset.

“Ah, but you are like me. And just like me you’re losing your position with Hordak. I can see that even from my cell,” the sorceress responds smoothly, unaffected by the outburst.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Catra answers quickly, but it’s too quick, and that makes it obvious that it’s a lie.

“You’re being pushed out,” Shadow Weaver states firmly, and it’s clear who’s in control of the conversation at this point (despite the older woman being imprisoned, in shackles, a reduced version of someone who once wielded great power — it’s sure not Catra driving here.)

“I am not! It’s just Entrapta understands all that tech stuff,” she mutters –– then gives a sharp intake of breath, glancing up at Shadow Weaver. She’s made a mistake, revealing even that much, and the sorceress’s eyes narrow. “Come here,” she directs, holding out a hand.

There’s a moment of hesitation, then Catra shuffles closer — slides one leg across the floor before shifting her weight to it and sliding the other, staying in her cat-like crouch. Her expression is anxious, alarmed, and she tenses up as Shadow Weaver reaches for her despite choosing to put herself in reach in the first place. But instead of an anticipated blow, the older woman reaches to caress her, running her fingers through one of the little tufts of hair by her ear, tender and affectionate in a way she’s literally never been towards Catra (Adora, on the other hand. . .)

“She’s earned his trust. How did you let this happen, don’t you see? I want you to go further than I did. But you need to be smarter than me, stronger than me.”

“Then help me! Come up with something so you can stay!” Catra cries, and in response, Shadow Weaver shifts to cup her cheek instead. Catra leans into it, closing her eyes.

“I will try. But I’m tired now. Come back later, please,” Shadow Weaver answers. Catra stands, everything about her screams vulnerability, and she leaves the cell without another word but with a small, hopeful smile as she brushes back the same little tuft of hair that Shadow Weaver had stroked. She leaves the badge.

There’s a fuzzy moment — a little time is passing, before the memory picks up again with Catra just outside the cell she’d left earlier. She says she knows it hasn’t been long, but she’s anxious for them to work together, come up with something, and as she lets herself in Shadow Weaver doesn’t respond, sitting with her back to the exit. Catra reaches out to grasp her and her hand passes right through –– it’s a projection. The cell is now empty.

It takes a moment for her to work through it, to come to grips with what’s happened here, until she says aloud, “You were just using me all along.” But that seems to finally click things into place, and she tears up, slashing through the projection with a snarl of anger and destroying it. She drops to the ground, where there’s a magic diagram created from faintly glowing sands (the shattered remains of the badge are nearby, apparently having held the magical substance. She swipes it aside angrily and starts crying.

This one’s one hell of a roller coast ride of emotion. From the start, where she wears a front so familiar it’s clear she’s been doing it for years, to the shaky way she keeps it together as she voices an old hurt at the start — and then actually interacting with the witch. She’s afraid the woman will hurt her but so desperate for her affection that she goes anyway — and when she’s spoken to gently, caressed like maybe this person might actually care for her (love her?) it’s everything she’s ever wanted, really, and she feels unbelievable happy and hopeful to finally get everything she’s jealously watched go to another for years.

And then, well. The betrayal. You know how that goes. She probably should have known better, right? What a stupid, useless girl — of course no one would ever love her, least of all the witch, but that’s fine because she doesn’t need it, anyway. She doesn’t need anyone, she’ll take on the world teeth bared and claws out, and she’ll win in the end and show everyone who ever doubted her just how much she’s worth.]

[ UGH BUT WHY. They look like mud. ]

[THEY HAVE SLIGHTLY MORE FLAVOR THAN MUD

... DO NOT ASK WHY I KNOW WHAT MUD TASTES LIKE]

[ SHE'S GOING TO GET YOU REAL FOOD AFTER ALL THIS ]

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