school: catra

[shaft]

Comments

week 1, friday

[shaft]

FROM: undying@Wiwaldi.edu

Are you okay?

[supercatty]

[her reply comes quite some time after the death announcement]

why is everyone asking me that this morning. do i seem okay. do i seem not okay.

[shaft]

It didn't matter what I asked, I just wanted to see if you'd be able to respond.

It'd suck if you didn't.

[supercatty]

[. . . . . . . . .???]

what if i could respond but just didn't??

[shaft]

Then I'd be worrying about you while you callously ignored me...

week 2, wednesday

[supercatty]

[so. this week has been. hm. it's been something!! and after the attack of the paper Claude army on Tuesday, Catra seeks out the subject of most of his "hm" on Wednesday to get his opinion on the matter]

[SO WHAT'S UP CLAUDE, WHERE ARE YOU THIS FIND WENESDAY OF OUR WEEK TWO]

[shaft]

[ Claude hates the cold so he will be inside! He's probably forcing himself to ingest a hot chocolate at the library café, his wyvern nosing around. ]

Hey Catra. Want one?

[supercatty]

[yeah being cold sucks!!! she appreciates him being inside!! she is also giving a curious to his Wyvern, before she turns her attention to the hot chocolate]

Depends. What is it?

[shaft]

Hot chocolate. It's rather sweet, but it's the only warm beverage they have.

You can try some of mine.

[ Can Catra even have dairy. ]

[supercatty]

[NO SHE'S A CAT?? j/k she's probably fine]

[she does sneeeeeak a hand out to steal his mug and give it a curious sniff, like she's a bad cat doing a bad thing even though he totally offered??]

I don't mind sweet things. I like those smoothies.

week 2, friday, health office

[shaft]

Catra.

[ Claude frowns at the sight of her, though he doesn't reach out. ]

Are you looking for something?

[supercatty]

[SHE SEEMS. . . well. subdued, honestly. her expression is hardened into something almost unreadable as she stares at the damage to the health office door. and all she does to acknowledge Claude's presence is tilt her head slightly to the side]

[. . .]

Not really.

[short and clipped and to the point]

Are you?

[shaft]

I want to say I've found enough today already.

[ ... ]

You should use your vouchers to heal your injuries. [ Claude already has. ]

[supercatty]

[. . . she shakes her head, but still doesn't look at him. she might be brooding a little bit!! at least she isn't crying??]

Got other plans for them. [which is. about all she says to THAT] Someone else took care of the minor stuff earlier this week.

I can deal.

[shaft]

What is it? A friend?

[ They could talk about other stuff, but. ]

week 2, tuesday, outside

[shaft]

[ Claude is bundled up around a warm cup of tea as he navigates from the cafeteria back to the dorm when he passes by Catra.

He doesn't even get a chance to greet her before

By the time you're six, it only takes you two sips to realize that your drink is poisoned. It has to be your drink, because the food is served in platters, everyone at the dining table—your father, his wives and advisors, and all their children—all eating from the same dishes. But drinks are served individually, wine and brandy for the adults, juice and water for the children. You'd requested a beverage made from black currants, realizing too late the sharp bitterness of the fruit could hide any other flavour.

And suddenly, it feels as though each and every eye is on you. Waiting for you to react, to spit out the mouthful sitting on your tongue or swallow and grimace against the fever burning up your spine. You imagine them laughing as you struggle to keep hold of your cup.

Perhaps they think you're really a fool, and that you'll tell your mother your suspicions. As though the bruises from the last time you did aren't still fresh on your back.

You let the poison sit in your mouth, taking a breath before swallowing. And then you eat a piece of bread, some meat, even the vegetables. You eat and eat and eat until someone makes a comment about it, and you have to groan about being full, a discomfort in your belly from eating too quickly.

And then you shuffle off to your room, throw it all up, help yourself to some water, and catalog the taste and effects to the best of your memory in your journal, next to all the others.

It leaves him with a sick feeling in his stomach, remnants of that day, and he groans for a second, sipping his tea to quell the feeling. ]

Ugh.

[supercatty]

[she's moving a little warier now than she was on Monday (or even earlier on Tuesday, now that the true effects of this week have sunken in). still. . . her ears perk up a bit when she sees Claude, and it isn't until it's far too late that she remembers-- ah. I should keep my distance.]

[the memory imparts on her feelings of nausea and sickness as well, and with a hiss she jerks back, her ears flattening and tail lashing. fortunately. . . in the here and now, the illness goes away]

[. . . there's irritation in her tone as she straightens, as she regards him with a narrowed gaze]

Ugh. When will this stop happening?

[MEMORIES. . . WHY]

[shaft]

[ Claude looks a little unsettled himself, though when he hears Catra, his expression shifts to one of concern.

There's no point in keeping his distance, so he wanders over, not wanting to yell his response to her. ]

If it's anything like our sudden predilection toward hugs, I'd say the rest of the week.

[ He looks tired. ]

A long time to try and avoid people.

[supercatty]

[yeeeeah, no point in avoding people NOW. now that she has been POISONED in one of Claude's old memories]

[she pads towards him as well; he'll notice she's wearing boots (BECAUSE OF THE SNOW) and a nice scarf around her neck]

Well, I have always been a loner. Seems like a good idea to hole up in a closet somewhere until it all blows over.

[so. wry]

[shaft]

[ Claude grins at her as she comes closer. She looks cute all bundled up. ]

You might be able to squeeze into one, but I like to think I have a little more bulk. [ Then, a little more genuine, ] I hope you haven't been having too hard a time so far.

week 4, saturday

[supercatty]

[Catra's emotions have simmered into a flatline, into a certain kind of numbness indicative of exhaustion. so when Claude finds her sitting in a corner of the detention room, staring out a window, he at least won't be overwhelmed by the whirlwind she felt during trial!!]

[but. . .]

[she's also quiet, and doesn't immediately acknowledge him, even though her ears twitch in such a way to indicate that she knows he is there]

[shaft]

[ Claude actually looks like he doesn't really want to be here, and it's not hard to tell why, when there's an obvious well of sorrow as soon as he looks at her.

He hasn't changed out of his clothes since Catra scratched him. The dunce cap is still on. ]

Catra...

[ Hm, what exactly do you say to someone who just watched the love of their life die? ]

[supercatty]

[closes eyes. the fucking dunce cap]

[it's only when he speaks that she moves, tilting her head to the side to regard him. she looks like. . . well. a mess!! she also hasn't changed, and she's disheveled and her face is still damp with tear streaks that matt down her fur]

. . .

Hey.

[she tries to be casual, but-- there's guilt when she sees him. after all. . . she did scratch him up a ton when he was trying to keep her from hurting Otome]

[shaft]

[ He walks over when she speaks, not sensing any overt aggression or vibes that are telling him to get out.

Carefully, he flicks one of her ears. ]

Hey. [ ... ] I'm sorry, for what happened in there.

[supercatty]

[none aggression!! she isn't trying to force him out!! she does tense a bit when he approaches, but that's due to the guilt. and then he flicks an ear. . . and she just]

[stares at him, now confused]

. . .

I attacked you?

[WHY IS HE SAYING SORRY!!]