[You'd think that, having spent most of her life sleeping in shared barracks, Catra would be used to them. That maybe she'd find the presence of so many other people comforting, or be reassured by the camaraderie of shared quarters.
But all she feels, as another loud snore rings in her ears, is that she is this close to snapping. She'd gotten used to the peace and quiet of her private room, and having the space to spread out across her bed as she saw fit. This hammock clings too tightly around her, restricts the agitated lashing of her tail, and even as graceful as she is, she still has trouble clambering out of it when her allocated sleeping shift is over. Not to mention the fact that it stinks. There is something that is just so gross about laying in the same cocoon as what smells like dozens of other people before her.
The snoring quiets down just long enough for the hard press of her hands against her ears to relax, and just as Catra thinks she might actually start to doze off -- it starts again, with a vengeance. She groans, loud and frustrated, and sits up in her wobbling hammock to glare in the direction of the offender.]
You've got to be kidding me. [She's not keeping her voice down at all, or hiding her aggravation. She can't be the only one kept awake by this, can she?]
2. - Basecamp (Outside)
[The barracks suck, but that's fine. Catra's found somewhere where she can nap any time she wants. (Which isn't that often. By the time the first week's out, there are tired lines under her eyes; easily explained away by the difficulty of adjusting to a communal sleeping space.)
The first time she does it, she can hear the alarm of the crew who watch her. Scaling up the side of the massive dragon isn't an easy task, and her muscles are burning by the time she makes it to the top - but as Catra's chest heaves with exertion, something of a spark returns to her eyes. The view is incredible from the height she's scaled to; the puffs of her breath mist in the chilled air, and she doesn't even care as she stares out at the horizon, drinking it in. Her claws ache, her heart's hammering, and adrenaline's a familiar friend surging through her body. Anybody who's capable of following her up that high will find Catra at her most congenial up there, in those moments when she's still riding that thrill.
It quickly becomes her go-to spot, and while the crew doesn't stop side-eyeing her for it, they eventually stop gasping and yelling whenever she makes her way up or down. (She's not cautious about either; leaping and scrabbling almost as much as she slides, and never once feeling like she might fall.)
At any given point, that's where she'll be: up on top of the Leviathan, oblivious to the crew gently freaking out below her.]
3. - Go Fetch
[There are downsides to having established herself as a confident climber, Catra learns as soon as this chore's dumped on her. She's not worried about encountering anything along the way to the cliffs (please, the wildlife should be running from her) -- but if the way she keeps glancing suspiciously at the sky is any indication, she is worried about the acid rain.
(Maybe if she ever actually put shoes on, she'd have less to worry about re: puddles and splashback. But she hasn't, so that's on her.)]
Can't you move any faster? [She's a fast traveller, and convinced that she could have done this all on her own; so any small stop or setback will have her ears turning down as her patience wanes. And yet, she's sticking with her buddy, keeping within a few paces no matter how slow or distracted they are. That's... teamwork?]
Wildcard
[After a few days of being irritable and close-guarded, Catra starts wearing someone else's red jacket. It hides the black, wing-like symbols emblazoned on the back and chest of her white jumpsuit, and she's in a slightly more amenable mood after acquiring it.
Having established a reputation for herself among the Adamant's crew as being uncooperative and unreasonable, it's no surprise that they treat her a little stiffly. She did, after all, refuse point blank to participate in any rescues, and gave them a hell of a time during her interrogation and medical exam - and it's only after she sorts out some issues and starts wearing that jacket that she begins to contribute to the camp's efforts at all.
At the end of the day, despite how much she hates being here, she does know that it takes everyone pulling their weight to move an army. So when a harried teenager drags her in to the Theatre as a distraction for the crying toddlers, Catra fights back the urge to hiss at the small hands that reach in fascination for her bristling tail. And when an exhausted worker slaps a shovel unceremoniously into her hands, she rolls her eyes and takes over their digging of the latrines. It's a far cry from the efforts of leadership, and she feels like a scolded cadet sulking through her squad's punishments, but for now Catra doesn't argue too much about the grunt work she's being assigned.
...She just bitches the whole time she's doing it.]
no subject
[You'd think that, having spent most of her life sleeping in shared barracks, Catra would be used to them. That maybe she'd find the presence of so many other people comforting, or be reassured by the camaraderie of shared quarters.
But all she feels, as another loud snore rings in her ears, is that she is this close to snapping. She'd gotten used to the peace and quiet of her private room, and having the space to spread out across her bed as she saw fit. This hammock clings too tightly around her, restricts the agitated lashing of her tail, and even as graceful as she is, she still has trouble clambering out of it when her allocated sleeping shift is over. Not to mention the fact that it stinks. There is something that is just so gross about laying in the same cocoon as what smells like dozens of other people before her.
The snoring quiets down just long enough for the hard press of her hands against her ears to relax, and just as Catra thinks she might actually start to doze off -- it starts again, with a vengeance. She groans, loud and frustrated, and sits up in her wobbling hammock to glare in the direction of the offender.]
You've got to be kidding me. [She's not keeping her voice down at all, or hiding her aggravation. She can't be the only one kept awake by this, can she?]
2. - Basecamp (Outside)
[The barracks suck, but that's fine. Catra's found somewhere where she can nap any time she wants. (Which isn't that often. By the time the first week's out, there are tired lines under her eyes; easily explained away by the difficulty of adjusting to a communal sleeping space.)
The first time she does it, she can hear the alarm of the crew who watch her. Scaling up the side of the massive dragon isn't an easy task, and her muscles are burning by the time she makes it to the top - but as Catra's chest heaves with exertion, something of a spark returns to her eyes. The view is incredible from the height she's scaled to; the puffs of her breath mist in the chilled air, and she doesn't even care as she stares out at the horizon, drinking it in. Her claws ache, her heart's hammering, and adrenaline's a familiar friend surging through her body. Anybody who's capable of following her up that high will find Catra at her most congenial up there, in those moments when she's still riding that thrill.
It quickly becomes her go-to spot, and while the crew doesn't stop side-eyeing her for it, they eventually stop gasping and yelling whenever she makes her way up or down. (She's not cautious about either; leaping and scrabbling almost as much as she slides, and never once feeling like she might fall.)
At any given point, that's where she'll be: up on top of the Leviathan, oblivious to the crew gently freaking out below her.]
3. - Go Fetch
[There are downsides to having established herself as a confident climber, Catra learns as soon as this chore's dumped on her. She's not worried about encountering anything along the way to the cliffs (please, the wildlife should be running from her) -- but if the way she keeps glancing suspiciously at the sky is any indication, she is worried about the acid rain.
(Maybe if she ever actually put shoes on, she'd have less to worry about re: puddles and splashback. But she hasn't, so that's on her.)]
Can't you move any faster? [She's a fast traveller, and convinced that she could have done this all on her own; so any small stop or setback will have her ears turning down as her patience wanes. And yet, she's sticking with her buddy, keeping within a few paces no matter how slow or distracted they are. That's... teamwork?]
Wildcard
[After a few days of being irritable and close-guarded, Catra starts wearing someone else's red jacket. It hides the black, wing-like symbols emblazoned on the back and chest of her white jumpsuit, and she's in a slightly more amenable mood after acquiring it.
Having established a reputation for herself among the Adamant's crew as being uncooperative and unreasonable, it's no surprise that they treat her a little stiffly. She did, after all, refuse point blank to participate in any rescues, and gave them a hell of a time during her interrogation and medical exam - and it's only after she sorts out some issues and starts wearing that jacket that she begins to contribute to the camp's efforts at all.
At the end of the day, despite how much she hates being here, she does know that it takes everyone pulling their weight to move an army. So when a harried teenager drags her in to the Theatre as a distraction for the crying toddlers, Catra fights back the urge to hiss at the small hands that reach in fascination for her bristling tail. And when an exhausted worker slaps a shovel unceremoniously into her hands, she rolls her eyes and takes over their digging of the latrines. It's a far cry from the efforts of leadership, and she feels like a scolded cadet sulking through her squad's punishments, but for now Catra doesn't argue too much about the grunt work she's being assigned.
...She just bitches the whole time she's doing it.]