( the ocean has been calm and steady for the last couple of days, a sharp contrast against its usual choppy and treacherous waves. it's almost like a long simmering anger has finally been quelled or perhaps just simply the held breath before a shriek. on the night that catra's squid body resurfaces, the sea is more than especially gentle.
delicate waves carry her body inward, guiding her ever closer to the beach. back to the beach. back to land, to sand, to . . . a life she still wanted to live.
catra's mind is still hazy as she drifts along, barely taking in anything other than the big luminous moon hanging in the sky. for a brief couple of moments, this is her entire world. the gentle wind, the ocean carrying her along, and the moon.
by the time she washes up on the beach, her mind has cleared some. enough to start piecing together sections of her memories, but her limbs are still limp and jellylike. )
Ha!
( she laughs quietly to herself, full of disbelief and a strange sense of exhilaration.
she made it back. )
ii. what we do for soup
( the very night next, catra finds herself back at the boardwalk. it's pretty much exactly the same thing she did the last time that she showed up in trench, lured back to the strange place where she transformed back into her own body from . . . a squid. it's happened twice now and it's been a disgusting experience each time.
she thinks if it were ever to happen again, she'd scream. and potentially not stop. she'd have to think about it. however, the bright side of having been in trench before is that she already has a keen understanding of where she is. as such, she doesn't hesitate to take the locals up on their offer of free soup.
correction: not free. they wanted to involve her in a stupid debate for the meal.
the guy leans against the counter of the booth, looking at her expectantly. what was it going to be? was it better to have someone strong to work beside or to know enough to walk on your own? )
That's a stupid question. It's better to walk on your own.
catra ◆ she-ra (deerington/deer country crau) ◆ ota
delicate waves carry her body inward, guiding her ever closer to the beach. back to the beach. back to land, to sand, to . . . a life she still wanted to live.
catra's mind is still hazy as she drifts along, barely taking in anything other than the big luminous moon hanging in the sky. for a brief couple of moments, this is her entire world. the gentle wind, the ocean carrying her along, and the moon.
by the time she washes up on the beach, her mind has cleared some. enough to start piecing together sections of her memories, but her limbs are still limp and jellylike. )
Ha!
( she laughs quietly to herself, full of disbelief and a strange sense of exhilaration.
she made it back. )
she thinks if it were ever to happen again, she'd scream. and potentially not stop. she'd have to think about it. however, the bright side of having been in trench before is that she already has a keen understanding of where she is. as such, she doesn't hesitate to take the locals up on their offer of free soup.
correction: not free. they wanted to involve her in a stupid debate for the meal.
the guy leans against the counter of the booth, looking at her expectantly. what was it going to be? was it better to have someone strong to work beside or to know enough to walk on your own? )
That's a stupid question. It's better to walk on your own.
( confidently.
then she glances over to the nearest person. )
Right? You agree.