Work Text:
day 4 of catradora week july 2019 - silver/gold
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When Catra closes her eyes at night, she can see it clearly - the memory plays in her head like a short film: She Ra, standing eight feet tall in a circle of tanks, her golden hair flowing behind her as she stabs her sword into the ground and makes the earth shake. The tanks fly backwards, effectively destroyed, and those that aren’t, she slashes through with her sword.
When she’s done and there’s nothing more than scraps and smoke left, she drops to her knees and shrinks, and shrinks, and becomes…Adora.
A second memory blends with the first one: Adora, lying in their bunk, her head turned towards Catra, a small, content smile on her lips, her hair free of the ponytail, and her loose locks between Catra’s fingers. Short and wheat-colored, it’s far from She Ra’s golden mane, but Catra likes it that way. It’s Adora, the real Adora, the old Adora, not the one that ran away and joined the Rebellion, not the one running around in a golden tiara, with golden hair and a golden sword – her Adora.
Every day, Catra wakes up, and for a split second, she forgets that Adora’s gone, and she reaches out with her hand, expecting to find a warm body, only to be met by cold, empty sheets – and then she remembers, and her heart breaks all over again.
She wonders if she’s ever going to get Adora back, if they’re ever going to lie next to each other again, like they used to, if she’s ever going to play with her hair – her normal, shoulder length, dirty blonde hair – and if she’s ever going to look into her eyes and see that earnest, tender look in them, instead of the loathing and anger and sadness she sees now.
She wonders if she’ll ever get the chance to close the distance between them, to press her lips against Adora’s, just like she’s seen the older cadets do in the darkness of the night, she wonders how it would feel like, how it would taste like – how Adora would taste like.
She knows she shouldn’t. She knows it’s wrong – Adora left her, Adora doesn’t care , Adora hates her – but she can’t help it.
She can’t stop thinking about her.
And she knows, that one of these days, it’s going to get her killed.