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Perfuma thinks that she may have just destroyed a Horde bot for the last time.
She’s back to back with Scorpia, and the forest clearing that they’re standing in (that they were herded into, she realizes, stomach dropping at the thought) is completely encircled by quadrupedal bots. Other bots, ones that they managed to take down, are scattered around them, torn to shreds, some of them sparking or twitching feebly as they try to pull themselves up on limbs that have been sheared off or pinned down by vines. But for every bot taken out of commission, another appeared from the trees, and behind the batch that has them surrounded, Perfuma can see even more reinforcements patiently waiting to step forward and fill any gaps in the frontline they might make.
While she is still on her feet, she can feel her power waning. She could probably incapacitate another two or three bots, but considering the sheer quantity surrounding them, that would be like a drop of water in a lake. Based on how she can hear Scorpia panting for breath, Perfuma suspects that Scorpia feels the same.
They’re surrounded, and she doesn’t think anyone is coming to help them.
It was supposed to be a normal patrol through the forest. Four of them had gone out – her, Scorpia, Adora and Frosta – and for the first half hour, while Perfuma’s guard had been up, while she’d been using her affinity with the trees and flowers and vines that surrounded them to listen for any sign of trouble, it was really more of a nice stroll than anything. Up to the point where everything went wrong, she had actually enjoyed the outing, because it gave her an excuse to be close to Scorpia, an excuse to walk at her side and talk to her quietly. It had allowed the half of her that wasn’t paying attention to the forest to focus on Scorpia’s cheesy jokes and her ongoing commentary as they proceeded further into the trees.
Sure, it didn’t quite feel like a date, what with Adora and Frosta being right behind them, but it was similar enough that Perfuma found herself wondering what it would be like to walk through the woods with Scorpia for the sheer purpose of enjoying each other’s company.
Before she could peruse that thought any further, she had felt the vibration of dozens of sets of legs rapidly approaching, and as fast as she could yell out a warning, the bots were upon them. What occurred after that had been a blur. Somewhere in the mix, they had gotten separated from Adora and Frosta, and now, she can’t hear them anywhere nearby. It’s all too possible that they managed to escape and that they’ll be coming back with help, but it’s even more possible that the bots managed to subdue them, or worse.
Perfuma wants to hope for the former, but she can’t be unrealistic. It’s possible that Hordak just wants to kidnap all of them – she’s sure that he would be overjoyed to at least steal Scorpia back, after she humiliated him by defecting – but there’s no guarantee that he would be satisfied by that. Maybe he won’t be satisfied until they’re all in the same state as the shattered bots surrounding them.
If that’s the case, if this is really the end, then there is something Perfuma needs to say first. Something she’s been putting off, something she’s been too nervous to bring up in the light of day,
“Scorpia?” She leans back so that her spine is more firmly pressed against Scorpia’s, up to where the bump of Scorpia’s tail presses into her. Keeping one hand outstretched so that she can lash out if one of the bots makes a move, she reaches back and curls her fingers around Scorpia’s bicep, where skin peeks free of carapace. Even despite the gravity of the situation, she’s still impressed by the strength she can feel coursing through Scorpia’s muscle.
“Yeah?” Scorpia replies, voice unsteady.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” One of the bots takes a step forward and, reaching down into the last of her energy reserves, Perfuma pulls a vine from the earth with her free hand, wraps it around one of the bot’s spindly legs, and yanks upward. The bot rises up in the air, balanced precariously on its back legs, and for a moment, she thinks that it might keep going, that it might fall over and crash to the ground. However, it manages to right itself, and cold fear floods through her nerves as it takes another step forward.
“Me too,” Scorpia says. Her pincers clink together loudly, and Perfuma can feel the movement ripple up Scorpia’s arm. “But you can go first.”
“Okay.” Perfuma takes a deep breath and tries to keep herself calm, even as she continues to scan the line of bots around them, sure that, at any moment, they’re going to rush forward. That possibility means that she really can’t delay any further, so rather than doing what has become her custom over the last little while, rather than swallowing her feelings whole, she says, “I like you, Scorpia. I really like you. And I wish that I had told you that before we were surrounded by killer robots, but better late than never, I guess?” The laugh that falls from her lips is weak, and the sound makes her wince, but it’s too late to take it back. Despite the reality of the situation, leaving the confession at that feels too defeatist, so she continues. “If we somehow make it out of this, can we maybe go for a walk in the woods and see how it goes?”
“You read my mind,” Scorpia replies. “If we make it out of this alive, we can go on as many walks as you want, Perfuma. And, uh, maybe kiss. If you’d like that, I mean.”
It seems inappropriate to feel a stab of joy at Scorpia’s reply, but there’s no denying the way Perfuma’s stomach goes happily aflutter for a few moments before the anxiety swoops back in.
“Yes, please,” she responds shakily. “I’d really like that.”
At that moment, the bots step forward in sync, as if they were waiting for a command that has finally come down the pipeline. Letting her fingers fall from Scorpia’s bicep, Perfuma extends her arms in front of her, prepared to use what little energy she has left to take out as many of the bots as possible.
Before either side, bot or princess, can make a further move, an ear-splitting yell fills the air, a yell that, even though Perfuma has heard it dozens of times before, never fails to send a shiver of excitement down her spine.
“For the honor of Grayskull!”
A bright white light fills the clearing, and Perfuma instinctively closes her eyes, even though she knows doing so is essentially giving the bots permission to attack her. However, when she pries them open a few seconds later, the bots haven’t stepped any closer. Rather, their heads are swivelling rapidly, as if they are unsure of how to proceed.
The pause is all the time She-Ra needs to strike.
With a whinny, Swift Wind bursts through the trees at the end of the clearing. His rainbow wings are spread wide, and She-Ra is astride his back, sword raised high, hair flowing out behind her. Swift Wind’s hooves connect with one of the bots hard enough to buckle the metal casing on top of its domed head, and She-Ra swipes her sword at the bot beside it, cleanly cutting it in half. As the two pieces of the bot fall to the ground in a heap of crumpled metal and sparks, the air in the clearing grows abruptly colder. Goosebumps spring up on Perfuma’s bare arms as Frosta bursts through the nearby treetops on a sheet of ice, shooting more ice from both hands, an almost feral grin spread across her face.
Perfuma knows that her already palpable exhaustion is going to strike back once the immediate danger has passed, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that seeing her friends rush in awakens her fighting spirit. Her well of energy has been temporarily topped up, and she eagerly draws from it so that she can reach down into the earth and seize the tree roots crisscrossing the ground underneath their feet. With a little coaxing, they agree to rise up, and she quickly weaves them around the legs of four nearby bots, pulling them to the ground. Once they’re down, she uses the roots as her fingertips, searches along the casing of each prone bot, prodding and poking until she finds a loose piece of metal or a crack that she can worm into.
Once she’s found her way in, once she can feel the wires and circuits underneath her fingertips, the bots don’t last. All it takes is a flick of her wrist to tear them apart.
Between the five of them, they make short work of the remaining bots. Soon enough, the clearing is littered with stray pieces of metal and clumps of wire that have been severed by She-Ra or Scorpia, crushed by Swift Wind, or frozen solid by Frosta. Perfuma keeps her guard up for as long as it takes to spin in a slow circle and take in every part of the clearing, make sure that there’s nothing ready to jump out and grab them while they’re not paying attention.
But there’s nothing. The most dangerous thing in the clearing is a leg that is attempting to crawl back to the bot it previously belonged to, but before Perfuma can move to attack it, Swift Wind brings a hoof down and shatters the leg into tiny pieces.
With the danger having passed, her exhaustion comes back with a vengeance, and her knees go weak. Before she can fall over, she sits down on the ground and lets go of all the vines and roots she borrowed, lets them return to their place under the earth while she tries to catch her breath.
“Perfuma?” Scorpia asks, swiftly moving away from a piece of bot that she’s been kicking furiously and dropping to her knees beside Perfuma. She carefully places the flat of one of her smooth, warm pincers against Perfuma’s face, and she leans against it gratefully. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No,” she answers, and despite everything, she can feel her lips curling up in a tiny smile. “I’m not hurt. Just really tired. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Scorpia confirms, leaning forward and gently resting her forehead against Perfuma’s, soft hair brushing against Perfuma’s temple. A quiet laugh leaves her mouth. “We’re both okay.”
Perfuma laughs as well. There’s absolutely nothing funny about the situation, but she’s just so relieved. Mere moments ago, it looked like her future contained nothing more joyful than captivity or death, but now, while this certainly won’t be the last time they clash with the Horde, there’s a chance that everything she said to Scorpia, everything she confessed, can become a reality.
She’s spent too much time hiding her feelings, biding her time, waiting for the right moment to bring things up. She almost missed her opportunity entirely.
It’s not a mistake that she plans to make again.
In an ideal world, she would make her move at a time where Adora and Frosta weren’t a few yards away, but both of the other princesses seem to be trying their absolute hardest to look at anything that isn’t Perfuma and Scorpia. Frosta is staring off into the trees and, She-Ra having gone away for the time being, Adora has her back turned and is actually whistling while she runs her fingers through Swift Wind’s mane.
It’s painfully obvious that they’re trying to give her and Scorpia some space, but Perfuma will take what she can get.
She tilts her head down slightly, so that her nose is brushing against Scorpia’s, and places her palms on Scorpia’s cheeks. Curling her pinkies under the line of Scorpia’s jaw, she gently tilts Scorpia’s head up. In the moments before their lips meet, as Perfuma’s eyes slip closed, Scorpia lets out a tiny, surprised gasp. It’s a lovely sound, open and honest and vulnerable. It’s a sound that Perfuma would like to hear many, many more times in the future, and she makes a solemn vow to herself to do whatever she can to ensure that future becomes a reality.
But first, she has something else she needs to do.
The first brush of their lips is gentle and soft, like satin against skin, like a flower unfurling to the sun for the very first time. The second is no different, but on the third, Scorpia leans further into Perfuma, parts her lips and deepens the kiss. Perfuma’s heart beats faster as she responds in kind, sliding her hands away from Perfuma’s cheeks and up into her short hair, twining what strands she can around her fingers. Scorpia makes another quiet sound against Perfuma’s lips, something muffled that almost sounds like a moan, and Perfuma’s cheeks flush in return.
Sadly, as much as she would be content to sit on the forest floor and kiss Scorpia for hours, as the adrenaline continues to flood out of her system, Perfuma’s body demands otherwise. She clings to Scorpia for as long as she can and only pulls away when her lungs’ fervent demand for air overwhelms her willpower. Sucking in a loud, greedy gulp of air, she backs away, although they’re still so close that she can feel wisps of Scorpia’s hair brushing against her forehead. She flicks her eyes open to see that Scorpia still has hers closed. As the seconds tick by, her mouth curls up into a bright smile.
“Are you sure that Adora and Frosta came to our rescue?” Scorpia asks, laughing nervously, the flat of her pincer gently rubbing at Perfuma’s cheek. “Because this feels an awful lot like a dream.”
“I thought so too,” Perfuma replies, softly rubbing her thumb against the line of Scorpia’s cheekbone, gently skating over a small scratch that is red around the edges. “But it’s not a dream. I promise. If this was one of my dreams, Swift Wind wouldn’t be staring at us like he is.”
Scorpia groans loudly and opens her eyes. She glances back over her shoulder where, sure enough, Swift Wind is staring at them with wide eyes, apparently no longer distracted by Adora’s attempts to groom him. Perfuma suspects that, at any second, he’s going to start yelling a dozen different questions, which means that their romantic interlude is going to come to an end very, very soon.
Before they’re met with that interruption, she clears her throat, drawing Scorpia’s attention back to her.
“I know we both talked about going for a walk,” she says, “but do you think maybe we can start with a nap? And some more kissing, when we wake up from that?”
“Counter offer,” Scorpia says, craning her cheek against Perfuma’s palm. “Food first. And then a nap, followed by kissing. As much kissing as you want.”
Perfuma laughs and leans forward to brush her lips against Scorpia’s forehead.
“It’s a date.”