Chapter Text
Lizara would rate the Horde a solid 2/4 fingers. It had great long hallways, mysterious pipes, and a lot of grunts. All good things for an evil hideout and secret organization, and certainly better than Shrimp Town (ugh). But there was the really fucked up sewage system ("What do you mean only Shadow Weaver had access to the repair information?") and whatever creepy thing was going on with the grunts, which took some points off.
She shut the door. The echoey hallways let her hear every footstep which was creepy but also kinda cool. She walked a bit further down the hallway, and then it struck her that anybody could probably hear any sound, including her using the washroom, because of how echoey it was.
Curse these metaldwellers living in their building-caves instead of normal cliff adobe houses.
At least no one could see her. She looked around a bit to make sure, then got on all sixes and arm-arm-legged it through the hallway. The blue lizardwoman could run a lot faster than was usually assumed, which was a plus for why she should be doing this all the time, along with how much more balanced she was when she could use all six of her limbs to move instead of only two, but the sounds of tearing were ominous.
She stands up before she opens the door to the common room. Her Horde jacket is ripped under the armpits. Embarrassing...
Oh well.
The common room was empty except for one person, Goara. Upon seeing Lizara, the goat henchwoman's tense, guarded expression went away immediately, back into her normal determined smile.
"Glad to see me?" Lizara asked, holding up both sets of arms and flexing her muscles.
"Always!" the goatwoman replied, her ears wiggling in delight. "Especially after yesterday..."
"Did something happen?"
"Nothing out of the usual, really."
"Still as usual, then." Lizara spoke without inflection, but Goara knew she was asking for more information.
She was being vague but she wasn't sure if it was because she didn't know what she was feeling or if it was bad enough that she didn't want to think about it or talk about it.
"I got assigned to the control room earlier. Did you know this place is laced with cameras?"
"Laced?"
"Like a good cactus juice left a little too long, and then we dilute everyone's perfectly good drinks with cactus alcohol instead of throwing it out."
"Oh yeah, laced. For a sec there I thought you meant that we were being watched."
Goara laughed. "The funny thing is, I don't think anyone's been using those cameras in a long time. The controls were covered in dust. They still worked, but the leaders of this place were messed up enough that it didn't matter if they could or they couldn't."
"Huh. Maybe that's why all the kiddos are so weird."
Lizara watched Goara's black-palmed hand rub the side of her arm. The fingers closed and opened around her skin, pulling and squishing the fat there. She knew her long enough to know it was a sign that she was thinking, but not necessarily anxious. She was thinking about it, but it didn't scare or surprise her to hear such a statement out of Lizara's mouth.
"They're all different kinds. The one I met the other day, the animal-less with the blonde hair, told me he was the 'Kyle'."
"Oooh. Is that why..?"
"I was named after a child, apparently."
Lizara laughed. Goara smiled, embarrassed.
"Catra, then..."
"... really missed her little chew toy?" Goara finished Lizara's sentence. "Or something about me seemed similar to him."
Lizara's hands fold together, fingers over knuckles. "The monitor, Rogelio, was telling me it was the first time he's seen another scaly. Plenty of mammals, though." She stretched her second pair of arms. "Maybe the girl just wanted a pet."
"I think this would all be a lot easier to understand if she just wanted pets," Goara said. "Also if she were less good at everything."
"If she'd grown up in the Wastes, she'd be thriving," Lizara agreed. "She's great at all the important things like running, brawling, cheating, and stealing. Though I have been wondering myself. Is it something about the Horde that makes them good at things? Is there something in all their 'water rations' and machines and company uniforms?"
"If it were that, don't you think they would've done a little better than keeping pets? They have no sense of love here, you know?"
The thing is, Lizara does know what she means. Talent, yes; rations and rules, yes; but... No cheering, no arm wrestling, doing what Catra (or the one in charge?) wanted but without fanfare. There was a lot of ignoring children for... other children, apparently, a princess that used to be a Horde soldier but went through some kind of magical adulthood ritual, like a grub becoming a beetle.
"It's not very lively," Lizara said. "Haven't seen anyone give a broken bone to anyone yet."
"Exactly! Where's the fun in that?" Despite the forced enthusiasm injected into Goara's tone, there was an uncomfortable sense of understanding of what they were both talking about, but unwilling to say to each other. It was the kind of thing Goara would say when there's a lot she didn't want to.
"She should've stayed at the Waste," Lizara said, recognizing Goara's hesitation, and ignoring it to go for the throat.
"I wanted to see her grow."
"She might not be ready yet. Despite her development, she might not be old enough for this."
"She wanted to come back."
"To the cult of child soldiers."
"She's the leader of the cult."
"And if that were going perfectly, then there wouldn't be any trouble, would there."
Lizara hit on a nerve. But she knew that. If these were thoughts that were new to Goara, she wouldn't be so annoyed already, almost ready to headbutt something. So it's more like the nerve was always exposed.
"People need to be confident in themselves. You can't learn confidence if people keep getting in your way. She's going to fail eventually on her own but it's not because any of us were stopping her."
"And then you think she'll want to go back? If your plan is to wait until she fails so she has more resilience..."
Maybe it's a bit jumbled. Maybe they can't help but think of their own childhoods, neither of which is applicable to this situation. A girl who won the pride of the Horde wants to throw it away. Right from the arms of victory comes the fall of defeat.
It's a terrible plan, Goara knows that, but what else can she do.
"We could leave. She decides she misses what she had, and comes to follow. There's no pressure, no waiting for her to fail."
"She won't," Goara says.
It's accepted, simple as that. Fine. Goara knows something she doesn't. She's closer to the issue, that's her belovedkid she's trying to teach dominance to. And. If Goara's struggling with her own confidence, Lizara can support her too.
"I guess we're staying, then," she says.