[ When Catra cuts herself off, Adora rubs calming circles against her back with one hand, just firm enough to be felt through the jacket and jumpsuit combination. It's odd to be touching her own jacket on someone else, and maybe she'd comment on that, if Catra didn't push out every other thought in her head a moment later; replaced by awe at the sheer absurdity of the question.
Her hand stills, and she pulls away enough to make eye contact, her sad smile all the proof her words need. ]
Catra... I never hated you. [ It would be easier, so much easier, if the truth was different, and Adora knows it, and she knows Catra knows it, which is the source of half the pain in her voice, but the truth is: ] I don't think I could ever hate you.
[ Adora can hate what Catra became, hate what she's done to her friends, to Etheria, to herself, most of all; a bitter, barely recognizable wreck compared to the girl Adora grew up hand in hand with. But hate Catra? That's not something she's capable of, and the thought should scare her more than it does. Just how much would she be willing to forgive? How much is she allowed to? The portal, Angella, all the times Catra threatened to kill her friends, stopped only by circumstance over intent — how can she put all that aside and still call herself a hero, let alone worthy of She-Ra?
... But she's not a hero anymore. She's not She-Ra. And this boiling, festering rage inside her towards Horde Prime isn't something she could aim at someone so precious to her. Not without losing what makes her Adora; the opposite of first and foremost, but the only identity she has left. ]
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Her hand stills, and she pulls away enough to make eye contact, her sad smile all the proof her words need. ]
Catra... I never hated you. [ It would be easier, so much easier, if the truth was different, and Adora knows it, and she knows Catra knows it, which is the source of half the pain in her voice, but the truth is: ] I don't think I could ever hate you.
[ Adora can hate what Catra became, hate what she's done to her friends, to Etheria, to herself, most of all; a bitter, barely recognizable wreck compared to the girl Adora grew up hand in hand with. But hate Catra? That's not something she's capable of, and the thought should scare her more than it does. Just how much would she be willing to forgive? How much is she allowed to? The portal, Angella, all the times Catra threatened to kill her friends, stopped only by circumstance over intent — how can she put all that aside and still call herself a hero, let alone worthy of She-Ra?
... But she's not a hero anymore. She's not She-Ra. And this boiling, festering rage inside her towards Horde Prime isn't something she could aim at someone so precious to her. Not without losing what makes her Adora; the opposite of first and foremost, but the only identity she has left. ]