maskormenacelogs | things just happen so much don't they

Entry tags:

things just happen so much don't they

WHO: Cecelia, a cast of tens
WHERE: All over (except Jeopardy -- frick u, Jeopardy)
WHEN: April
WHAT: ACTIVITIES
WARNINGS: teeeeeeeeeeenager

Yo hit up

whyellewhy to plan shit let's party

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Catra turns up her nose, looking very smug. ]

Ha, as if I need your pity!

[ But then, as she's haughtily looking down at Cecelia, her eyes fall upon the stack of magazines again.

There's a different magazine on top now, and there, in the corner... pictures of Catra with Adora.

Crap. She can't have that.

So, momentarily panicking, she makes a mad dash for the offending objects. ]

Gimme that!

Heyyy!! [rude! grabbing things like that...! she huffs, squinting and realizing...hey.]

What? Problem?

[ Yikes. Think quick! ]

No, but I thought you wanted to get rid of them!

Yeah, on my terms, thanks. Gimme. [she snatched it back, wincing a little at the tear of the cover. she glares at the cover, and...]

...Ahhhh, ha haaa. [smirk.] Now the shoe’s on the other foot, huh? Who’s the blonde?

[ Catra crosses her arms. Her first instinct, honestly, is to say "no one", but she knows that won't fly, so... ]

Someone from home. Nobody important.

Is that so?

[she squints at the pictures.] Goodness, but there’s an awful lot of familiarity in these postures and expressions.

[ Catra sneaks another glance. Oh, yeah, that's a lot of them standing with their faces very, very close. And a shot of their dance at the Swear-In that Catra wants to rage at. ]

Okay, fine! But just for the record, those magazines got it all wrong. That's my arch-nemesis you're looking at!

[Cecelia sniffs, sitting up straighter.]

Well, I suppose that tracks. You do seem to have a penchant for llingering near people you claim to be unable to stand. That tracks. Maybe these snoopy, obsessed stalkers are on to something; broken clocks can be right twice a day, after all.

[ Oh. Oh no. There it is again -- Cecelia's penchant for finding and hitting Catra's weak spots.

Which means she now has a very angry catgirl very close to her face. ]

What did you just say?

[obligatory flinch, coupled with a grimace as she leans away.] Per-personal space! Gods! [glaring elsewhere even while braced and flustered:] You sure can’t take your own dumb medicine, can’t you?!

[ At that, Catra goes quiet, and grim, and -- thankfully, for sure -- out of Cecelia's face. ]

Think what you want.

[exhaling in a huff, muttering:] As ever I shall, thank you very much.

[she huffs again, wiping at her face while scowling down at the magazines in her lap. it’s a stressful, embarrassing business, getting flustered and worked up while also being accosted by one so flustered and worked up. to say nothing of the weird ambiance; she makes a point of sparing herself from looking about to see the irate and wary watches in the cafe who just came to pet cats.

gods. so stupid. all because of that awful girl and her pack of jackals outside!!]

Here.

[she tears the cover with the offending images and holds it out without looking.] Shred, tear, or otherwise dispose of as suits you best.

[ Catra stares at the wad of torn paper. ]

Well, you took care of the tearing part. Trash can's over there.

[ She points toward the counter, next to which stands a big trash can. Yes, she's gonna make Cecelia go there herself. ]

[blink. squint.]

...These are the pictures of you. Why don’t you just do it? A mini attack on your arch-nemesis or whatever.

[ Sorry, Cece, right now she wants to get one up on you. ]

Uh, you created the trash, you dispose of the trash. House rules.

[ Colleagues shaking their heads disapprovingly in the distance. ]

[her mouth puckers and cheeks puff with indignation. but only for a moment. instead of blowing her lid, she exhales and calmly retracts her hand, slipping the paper into the pages of the magazine, smoothing out the top when done.]

There. I’ll see to it when I’m through with the rest.

Edited 2019-04-02 15:54 (UTC)

[ Wait... is she trying to keep them as blackmail material? Catra narrows her eyes and leans in close, speaking in a low voice in Cecelia's ear. ]

You know those are not the only copies of those magazines out there, and that I know what your nemesis looks like, right?

What nemesis would that be? I’d hardly waste time with—[she pales.

quieter:] Do not.

[ Oh yeah, this? This is a vicious grin. ]

Then you really might want to take the trash out now.

[she squirms a little before getting up, shoulders drawn up as she shuffled over to the trash can. while her eyes start to brim with fresh tears, she yanks the torn page out and lets it flutter into the bin.

without looking up:] There. Happy?

[ Catra's grin stays in place. ]

Very. Thank you kindly.

Wonderful.

[she draws in a long breath, straightening back up and blinking her eyes clear. no tears! none for the victor.

stiffly, her gaze pointedy nowhere near Catra as she turns to face the door:] Then I’ll take my leave. Good day.