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It’s a quiet night in Brightmoon.
The wind is gently shaking the trees, sending soft waves across the lake, and bringing with it a breath of fresh air.
Catra decides she likes the wind, among the many other things she finally has time to appreciate these days.
It shakes her fur up in the best of ways, and Adora always insists to brush it when they get back to their room.
It’s nice.
Today she’s not enjoying it with Adora though.
Today, she’s alone.
By choice, that is.
Adora is glued to her side pretty much permanently these days.
Not that Catra would complain.
But sometimes her feelings get to be too much.
Her memories and regrets.
So, here she is.
Leaning on the railing, looking out towards the land.
Letting herself fall deeper down the spiral on one of Brightmoons many balconies.
That’s where she is found by a certain companion of hers.
“Hey Melog.”
The creature appears seemingly out of nowhere.
It would have startled the Magicat, if she hadn’t known they were on their way.
“Catra.” the Krytian greets her.
“What’s up?” she returns, trying to sound casual
They look her up and down, “You are in distress,” they conclude.
“I’m fine,” she tells them.
“Neither of us believes that,” they return, calmly.
She sighs, “Y’know, sometimes I’m really not a fan of this emotional bond thing.”
They inch closer, “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you here, alone?”
“Just…” she sighs again, “Taking a breather.”
“Taking a breather from what?” they ask, coming to stand next to Catra.
“Everything, I guess,” she tells them.
The Krytian looks at her for another minute.
Then, they push themselves up to rest their front paws on the railing, joining the Magicat in observing the lay of the land.
“What are you thinking about?” they ask her, laying their head down on the railing.
“My-.... Myself? I think? What I did, mostly. How I’m a terrible person and all that. Y’know, the usual,” she answers, trying to brush off the heaviness of her thoughts.
Her companion is silent for a while after that.
Catra notes they didn’t disagree with her.
She’s not sure she would have preferred if they did.
After a few minutes of silence, they look up at her.
“Who are you, Catra?”
The question surprises her.
If it came from any other person the answer would be simple.
But Melog knows her.
Better than most.
“What?” she asks them with a puzzled look.
“Who are you?” they repeat, just as calmly as the first time.
“I- You know who I am!” she exclaims, baffled.
“I do. But I would like you to remind me,” they clarify.
She doesn’t know what to say.
How does she answer that?
“I… I’m Catra.”
“That’s it? Just Catra?” they question her, clearly wanting her to say more.
“I...I guess… Who else would I be?” she asks, still confused.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only known you for a little while,” they confess.
“Great. That’s so helpful,” she drawls.
“I would hope so. Otherwise this conversation would be quite pointless,” they quip, seemingly raising an eyebrow.
“When did you learn to be sarcastic?” she asks, an amused smile forming on her face.
“Your friends have been quite helpful in learning etherian customs,” Melog tells her, proudly.
Her smile turns wistful at that, “Y’know… I never really thought of myself as a people person but…” she stares back towards the large forests and mountains, “I do have friends now, don’t I?”
“You do. Quite good friends too, I would say,” they assure her.
“I don’t know why they put up with me, honestly…” she whispers, somberly.
“And why is that?” they ask, seeming genuinely confused.
“I’m not really the… friend type,” she elaborates, “I don’t do friends. I don’t know how to be a friend. I just… I don’t know. I don’t see it.”
“See what?”
“Whatever they see,” she explains, “I’m a mess. I don’t… I’m not made to be around people. Why do they keep me around?” she asks.
“Who are you, Catra?” they ask again.
“You just asked me that. And I already told you,” she responds.
“Tell me, again. Properly this time. Maybe you can answer your question yourself. Who are you, past Adora, past the war, past your mistakes? Who is ‘Catra’?” they ask, softly, but in a way that leaves no room for argument.
“I… I’m…” she thinks hard, “I’m a cat;” she tells them, as the first thing that comes to mind.
“That is correct.”
“I’m… a strategist?” she says, hesitantly.
“You are. Quite a good one at that, from what I’ve seen,” they agree.
“The only one of my plans you’ve been a part of was us speeding through Primes Fleet,” she reminds the Krytian, nudging them with her elbow.
“I’m aware,” they return, with a serene smile.
Their short banter dies down after that, as Catra returns to racking her brain for things she can call herself that wouldn’t make Adora cry on her behalf.
“I’m… I…” she tries, “I don’t know… Ugh, I suck at this talking stuff!” she blurts, “This is why people don’t keep me around! Can’t I just-”
“No,” Melog interrupts her.
“But I can’t-”
“No,” they interrupt her again.
“Melog, I-”
“Look at me, child,” they demand.
Not having heard Melog quite this serious before, Catra complies.
“I would like you to stop belittling yourself so harshly, and often,” they continue, “If people don’t keep you around that is their loss. I may have only known you for a few months but I’ve seen who you are,” they tell her, “I’ve seen what you refuse to see in yourself. Tell me who you are, child,” they ask her a third time.
“Melog I…” she starts, already exhausted from her small outburst, “Please, I don’t…”
“What are you to Glimmer? To Bow? To Entrapta and Scorpia? What are you to me?”
“I… I’m not…” she stops to consider the question.
What is she to them?
To Glimmer? A menace, probably.
Bow? A nuisance at best.
Entrapta and Scorpia? ‘Fucking terrible’ is one way to put it.
What about Melog?
They’ve only known her after Prime.
They missed her time as a Cadet.
A Force Captain.
The Hordes Second in Command.
So what is she to them?
“I’m your... friend?”
“You are,” they agree, seemingly satisfied with her answer, “Why is that?”
“I don’t know… I…” she tries again, before releasing a tired sigh. She turns to slide down to the ground, her back to the railing, “I can’t do this, Melog. I don’t know.”
They move to sit in front of her, their tail swaying gently behind them, before talking again.
“You are my friend because you care,” they tell Catra, “Because you are kind and willing to help someone in need,” they continue, “And I know you do not see it, but I do. I see the love you hold back. I see how you do not think yourself worthy of love, both from yourself and others, and how in turn, you believe your love does not matter to them, either.”
Being psychoanalyzed by a cat is not how Catra planned to spend her evening.
Still, she listens.
“What does that have to do with who I am?” she questions.
They look out towards the woods again, seemingly putting together the right words.
After a minute their eyes find Catras again.
They seem gentler, softer, for whatever Melog plans to say next.
“You are Catra,” they start, “You are strong, you are smart and you are kind. You are an amazing person that terrible things have happened to, but you have never let them keep you down, and you have never let them take your ability to love,” they move to nestle into her side at that, “You are fierce, and protective of the people you care about. You are simply… scared. Scared of giving your love, and receiving that of others,” they continue, putting their head in Catras lap, “Scared of breaking it, losing it or… extinguishing it.”
“I… That’s who you think I am? That’s… a lot,” she says, ignoring the tears in her eyes, even as she starts to pet the Krytian.
“Would you like me to summarize it?” they ask, softly.
“Sure,” she tells them, with a crack in her voice that they both ignore.
“You are a good strategist, a great fighter and an amazing friend. You simply need to let yourself see it,” they conclude.
“How do I do that?” she asks, shakily.
“I do not know. But I will help you figure it out. I believe that is what friends are for,” they declare, before letting a gentle purr overtake their body.
Catra sits there then, petting this alien that’s only known her for a few short months, yet makes her feel like they’ve known each other for years.
She thinks over their words for a few more minutes, before coming to the conclusion that she’s really tired after all that talking.
Crossing her arms and using Melog as a makeshift bed, she lays down her head, getting ready for exhaustion to pull her to sleep with one last murmur.
“Yeah. Friends.”