piper90 | [locked to new hires] post-babadon't

"What's there to talk about?" Adora sounds almost bitter. Or frustrated.

"Everyone else seems to think I don't know what's good for me."

Saturday stops a moment to consider that, before answering. She can't say, "they don't" because they do; the problem is that they don't mean it the way Adora's receiving it. Saying Adora's wrong isn't gonna help - Adora's hearing nothing but that and also, that is what people are doing - and saying that she's right isn't true. Well, it's not untrue, but it's as incomplete as the other version.

She chews on her lower lip a bit, looking inward and distracted.

"Well, from where I'm sittin', it seems more like people are seeing someone walking around with a broken leg saying she's fine, and wondering what in the hell she's saying that for. But - " a sharp nod, as she comes to conclusion. "We also don't actually know each other that well, do we? We've got a lotta facts about each other, but we don't know. So - okay. What do you know, then? Like what are we missing? What would be good for you?"

Her face is open, her voice sincere. This isn't a challenge, or meant to undermine her. She's asking, because Adora's right - no one actually has.

"But it's not like that! I'm not missing anything-" Adora pauses and allows Saturday to finish. She takes a slow breath to try and get herself to calm down a little. She's pacing back and forth now, trying to get her energy out. She finally pauses when Saturday asks that question, her brow furrowed.

"Nothing! Nothing is missing! I know what I have to do!"

Not quite true. She doesn't think of herself as needing anything because she doesn't think she really deserves anything. She needs to handle the universe. The world. She has to give as much as she can. To take anything back from the world? No. She can't do that.

"What's good for me..." She frowns, brow furrowed, "Why? What does that matter? I don't need to worry about that."

Edited 2021-02-01 05:24 (UTC)

"Well..." Saturday checks what she's saying as she says it, clearing it of any thoughtless turn of phrase that might catch them up. "You said we're acting like you don't know what's best for you, an' that you know what you need. I thought maybe some of that was more training, 'cause when I offered you accepted, but that ain't worked out so good. So I figure, I musta missed somethin', right? Which means maybe you are right, an' you know what's best for you, an' it's not anything we've offered. So if you can tell me what it is, maybe I can help you get it."

Saturday waits for the answer without trying to anticipate the response. She's learned, painfully, that that's the only way to do. At least, when you really want to reach someone, and not just con them into going along until the goal's been met.

But the first step is the immediate need. Adora doesn't feel listened to, so - Saturday will listen.

"There's nothing to tell," Adora replies, still sounding frustrated, "They think that I shouldn't be so willing to charge into danger, I guess. That I shouldn't take this responsibility on. But that's not something I can just stop doing - I have this power and should use it. I have to use it. So - why does everyone want me to stop?"

Or that's how it feels, anyway.

"They don't get it. I have to do this - I have to do all of this."

Saturday is really starting to regret not taking a closer look at the other comments on Adora's post. She frowns, bracing her forearms against her knees.

"Have to do what, exactly - what responsibilities? I logged off after I said my bit," she explains. "Didn't look to close at what everyone else was saying, just checked no one was blaming you more'n you already blamed yourself. Mostly what I saw was people sayin' not to be too hard on yourself over it; pick yourself up, dust yourself off, an' keep goin'."

She starts to shrug, frowns, then decides to hold her peace. There are other things she wants to say, about the whole not-getting-it thing - she suspects the problem might be more that they get it too well. That might not be helpful at this point, though.

"I have to... protect people. I have to make sure other people stay safe. The whole universe, if it comes down to it," Adora replies with a sigh, "And they're telling me that... I don't? That I shouldn't? And I don't understand why. I don't understand why they think it's wrong of me to want to protect other people."

It's more complicated than that. It always is. But that's how it feels to Adora.

"I can't let myself get slack. I have to keep going."

Although now they're drifting onto another topic entirely.

Saturday isn't quite as puzzled as she puts on - she knows what Adora is doing, she knows why, and she can just about feel Scylla pointing and laughing at her, somewhere across the metaplanes.

"I didn't see anyone sayin' that? Just not to be so hard on yourself. You ain't the only person here carryin' the world on their shoulders," she points out. "Don't mean that as a criticism, it's just true. Like, back home, everyone I love is preparing for a final battle that we either win or us and the whole world dies a long, slow, ugly death. It makes me fucking crazy that I'm not there. That I'm a fucking prisoner on a useless deathtrap in a dying world when everyone I'm responsible for is in danger - "

She cuts herself off. Not about you, dumbass.

" - point is, from what Catra's told me, you're the only person on your level back in Etheria, am I wrong? So maybe there, it is all on you, 'cause no one else can meet the threat. But if you ask around, a lot of people here are dealin' with or have dealt with world-ending shit, with being the only person or one 'a the only people who can deal with it. I think sayin' they don't understand is kinda overstating it. Might be," and here she gambles, "some of it is them understandin' too well, you know? What it's like to have something precious in your hand and drop it, even if someone else had to pry it from you first. You always think you coulda just held on a little tighter."

The ever-present grief and guilt surge forward, eager to remind her they're there, and that she deserves them nipping at her heels. She tilts her head forward, hiding her eyes behind her bangs, so Adora won't see. This isn't about her feelings, no matter what old wounds it jabs.

Adora can see something is bothering Saturday, even as Saturday tries to help her resolve her problems and it tears at her heart. She doesn't know what she can do about it, though. Offer to help? But that's what Saturday is doing right now. It'd be... weird, right? She sighs quietly and finally stops pacing, arms wrapped around herself as she tries to stop her mind from catastrophizing. Get it together, Adora.

"I... I know. Other people have to deal with this kind of thing back home. They're responsible for their worlds, for their problems, their threats. I just - I can't stop being who I am. The people here are my friends now and I have to protect them, right? And... if I can't protect them... what am I doing here?"

She means the right. But there's the sense that she might really mean here as alive or present.

"Being their friend?" Saturday says it without thinking, and as she says it clarity hits her like a bolt of terrible lightning - she understands, too late, what Maggie had been trying to tell her. Except Maggie isn't here to...

Put it aside. Carry on.

"Like..." she says it slowly, processing as hard as she can. "Do you think they'd be happy if you went away? Like being able to protect them is the only reason they like you, so if you can't do that, they won't care if you live or die? 'Cause I know Catra doesn't think that. I know I don't think that."

Adora's brow furrows and her little self-hug tightens. That's... closer to the truth, but not really how Adora thinks. She knows her friends love her - how could she not? But she also knows that all she has to offer is... herself, at the end of the day. It's complicated.

"No... I don't think they'd be happy if I left or died."

Although there's a dark part of her that doesn't care if she lives or dies, in the end. If she has to die in the process... wouldn't that be OK? Wouldn't that simply be the best way to give of herself? No, it's more that Adora doesn't care if she lives or dies and she sees her death as an acceptable price to pay.

"But being able to protect people... I'm good at it. And better me than someone else."

"Nah, I get that." Saturday nods, in understanding. "But - I think part 'a what they're trying to say is, not better you then someone else. Like..."

She frowns, trying to think of how Maggie would put it.

"Like... we do this hero shit, right, because we think everyone has the right to live an' be happy. That includes us. If someone was in front of you - if Catra was in front of you, saying it would be better if she had died instead of failing, would you think she was talking sense? An' if you wouldn't, then what makes you different from her - what makes the right she has t' life an' happiness more important then your own? It can't be her feelings, 'cause she doesn't feel that way."

"Catra's not She-Ra," Adora replies and shakes her head. She's shaken free of destiny. Shaken free of what other people want her to be (she thinks) - but to her, she's still the one who has to sacrifice. Who must sacrifice. There's not alternative, is there?

"And the difference is... I can do that. I can actually fight on that level. I can take that power."

Although she could still potentially die, but that seems trivial.

"I don't want to die, Saturday. Just - if someone has to die... I don't want it to be one of my friends."

Saturday raises an eyebrow.

"But why does you bein' She-ra matter, exactly? Like, okay, it means you can do more, take more, fight harder. But it doesn't make you invincible, right? You're operating on another level, but you can still fail. So the question still stands, I think? Let's pretend you didn't get the lightshow back, or it was Catra who got it instead, if that helps. Would the same rules apply to her if she had the power, an' you didn't? Would you tell her go on, go ahead, you're the one who has to die, you're the one who's got the carry the load, all by yourself, and I won't help you because you shouldn't need it?"

She spreads her hands wide, almost pleading.

"Why should being She-ra mean you don't get to live an' be happy, that you gotta make the sacrifice play? Who ever said that that was your job? Isn't that something you kinda decided for yourself, without even asking anyone if that's what they want from you? I'm not saying don't fight, don't be a hero, but... did anyone ever actually say that it was all on you? Or did you decide that on your own? Who has ever actually asked you to carry it all by yourself?"

Adora slumps a little. Her mind is working at a thousand miles an hour and it feels like she can't catch herself. Can't figure out what to say. What Saturday says makes sense. It shouldn't all be on her, should it? But she still feels like it should. She still feels like it's her responsibility. Because it's what she has to give to others. Herself.

"No one asked me, it's just... that's how it's always been."

That's how she's always felt. For as long as she can remember. She had to put herself between Catra and Shadow Weaver. She had to be the best, she had to be perfect, because if she wasn't, someone else would suffer for it. So if she can take that ultimate hit at the end, shouldn't that be for the better?

"Better me than anyone else."

"Yeah. I think the same way, sometimes. But... I actually figured something out, just now, talking. Something my best friend said before - before I got grabbed. It's like, I thought she was just being cruel for no reason, but she wasn't. She wasn't saying that my self isn't enough, that it's bad for me to be a hero. She was saying... kinda the opposite, actually, I think I just realized. My self is enough. I don't gotta kill myself trying. She was trying to say she doesn't want my heroic death. She wants my life, an' if it's not heroic then she's fine with that. As - as long as I'm alive to be not-a-hero with her, that's enough."

Shit. Now she's starting to cry a little.

"I think Catra an' the rest were trying to say the same thing. They don't want your heroic death. Heroic deaths make good stories, but they're still deaths. You still wouldn't be there anymore, after. How could they be happy with a victory at that price? Would you be?"

She's speaking slowly now, feeling it out as she goes.

"My pops - raised me to do great things. Be a hero. Ever since I can remember, that's all I ever wanted. Then I got to actually go do hero stuff and you know what? It fucking sucks. Nobody should have to be a hero. Not all the time. It's too damn much to ask of anyone, and that includes yourself."

"It doesn't matter how much it is or isn't," Adora replies quietly, "It's who I am. It's who I'm supposed to be. It's... it's what I have to do."

She believes that. She genuinely does. Every authority figure in her life, save one, told her it was on her. And even then, she promised Angella she'd look after Glimmer - and if saving Glimmer means dying, she'll do it.

And without realizing it, she's crying right along with her.

"I don't - I don't know, Saturday. How can I do that? How can I not give everything and then pretend that it was enough? Especially when it isn't? When I'm the only one who can do what has to be done? I - I understand. Really."

She sounds... tired, almost.

"I can't do that, though."

I'm not worth it unless I do.

"But says who? Like - heroes are supposed to do things for other people, right? But everyone we're doing this for says, stop, don't do that. It's hurting you, and it'll hurt me. So what kind of heroes are we, if we don't listen to them, just keeping going forward even if it hurts them? Who are we really doing it for, then?"

Adora is crying, so Saturday is crying more; she wants to stop but it feels good to cry about this, like something finally snapped inside her, but it wasn't breaking, it was just letting go.

"I don't think - I don't think it's about not giving all of yourself. I think it's more... like... " She reaches out, as if grasping for something, and lets her hand fall. "I think it's about accepting that the world is a fucking - i don't know, desert - full of people who need help, an' if you pour everything you have into that, sure, you're gonna help some people, but then you'll be dead, and what good can you do for all the people after that who're gonna need you? If you give all of yourself, then there's nothing left for people who've come to depend on you. And there's nothing left for you. And then you're gone, and there's nothing to show you were there except some wet sand and a good story, because people are never gonna not need help. You can't fix it, even with magic. Or someone already would have."

She takes a deep breath.

"What they're trying to say is: giving everything doesn't include your life. If you're willing to die for other people's right to live, how can you exclude yourself from that kind of thinking and still be an honest person? Who says that this is who we have to be and what we have to do? According to whom? Us? Are we really that fuckin' smart, that we can make that call? The people we love? They already chimed in. The people who raised us? Well, you were raised by an evil asshole and I was raised by a man with his own issues. If every single person says we're worth more then our deaths, an' the only people saying otherwise are us, and the people who raised us to believe that..."

Another shaking breath, hands on knees. The tears are pouring free down her face.

"You know, a big part of being a hero is admitting when you're wrong."

Edited 2021-02-02 05:47 (UTC)

"I don't think I am, though," Adora replies, voice hoarse. She hears everything Saturday says, but she can't visualize it applying to her - because of course she has to pour out everything. She has to be perfect. She can't let people be hurt. She has to keep everyone else warm. Pouring everything she is and will be into others is the only way she knows how to exist. It's the only thing that makes sense. Because she feels so incredibly alone and small when she makes a mistake. When she can't save people. When she's not able to be there.

"I'm sorry, Saturday."

Saturday can't think of anything coherent to say: just this deep welling feeling of but why? What purpose does any of it serve if the people you're doing it for don't want it? Except she's said that already, and it's not getting through. But something is niggling at her, jumping up and down for attention in the back of her mind. Something Adora said before, ages ago, back when they'd all just arrived. About her sword. About She-ra.

Saturday's eyes narrow.

"But you've been wrong before, right? About She-ra, and your destiny. Wasn't she a fake-out from the start? Just a superweapon looking for a host, something like that? You chose to throw her away rather then be controlled and used up. After believing you'd been chosen for some great purpose, or whatever. Or am I rememberin' wrong?"

"Light Hope lied to me, but Mara - Mara was She-Ra before I was and she used her power to try and change things. Being She-Ra - it wasn't necessarily bad. But... the Heart of Etheria was a weapon and Light Hope wanted me to use that weapon... but I didn't. And I'm still She-Ra."

Adora sounds a little defensive.

"Mara was supposed to used the weapon. After her, it was you, an' you chose the same thing. But you both realized you were wrong in how you thought the power of She-ra was gonna be used - or should be used - but you were both wrong, weren't you? About who She-ra was meant to be. And you both changed your minds. Decided not to be used up."

She studies Adora's face, looking for - something. She's not sure what. But there's something here.

"You are still She-ra, but because you chose to be. So - it's not that you have to. You've decided that you push come to shove, you're the one who doesn't deserve to live, because with great power comes great responsibility - to die? Why is that where your head goes, immediately, to the point where you get jumped and survive then hate yourself for not fighting to the death? You didn't do anything wrong, Adora. You just screwed up. That's not a crime. No one even died. So why did you jump to 'I should be dead'?"

Saturday thinks she knows the answer, but - that's not the point of asking.

"That's not what I said, Saturday," Adora's still crying, but she scrubs at her face. The crying... helps a little. It vents frustration and sadness but it also leaves her feeling exhausted and drained. This conversation doesn't help at all, honestly.

"I didn't say I should be dead because of this-" She waves her hand, as if to encompass the situation, "I don't even hate myself!"

Not consciously, anyway.

"The point I'm making - that I've always been making - is that I have a responsibility to do everything I can. That's it."

Saturday is already shaking her head. "Yeah, no, I don't buy that. You thought you fucked up up. Everyone said, 'no worries, we forgive you' or 'hey, happens to everyone, here's how to do better next time.' An' that's somehow literally the worst thing someone can say to you? What were we supposed to do? Like did you want us to blame you? Because that's not fuckin' rational, Adora. That thing came outta nowhere - how could you know it was active, much less what it was capable of? We're not mad because we're just glad you're alive - an' that's nowhere in your calculations, is it? Or if it is, it's cause you think we - what, don't understand the stakes? Don't realize how much danger we're in? Don't understand how it is to have everything on your shoulders? Don't realize how it feels to know someone died because you fucked up an' there's nothing you can do to bring them back? 'Cause I know you know that ain't true."

She stands now, stretching out her hands. "I mean, all I did was ask you to clear your mind and focus. An' you were so worked up you couldn't even do that. I don't know your life, that's true - though I don't like what I've heard of this Shadow Weaver - but you've seen me fight an' you know I'm for real. An' I'm tellin' you, warrior to warrior, that being fucked up over failin' makes sense. Being so fucked up you can't put it aside an' focus on the training you need to not fuck up again? That's somethin' else. It's not good practice. You do have a responsibility t'do whatever you can - an' that includes sortin' through the mess in your head. 'Cause you don't do anyone any favors takin' every failure as a personal fuckin' statement on your worth. She-ra isn't the reason you exist. You're the reason She-ra exists."

She runs a hand through her hair, shaking it out.

"This all kinda got off track, though. Look - let me clarify, this is not a fight from my perspective. We're still friends if you wanna be. If you wanna try t'learn this trick again, I'm game any day. I didn't mean to ride you on it, you're gettin' enough of that. Sorry."

"I'm not messed up over failing!" Adora practically yells, "I'm messed up over everyone reacting like I'm going over the edge! Including you!"

Adora waves her hands, as if she can somehow convey her emotion through sheer emphasis.

"Stop trying to help," she continues after a deep breath, "You're just - making it worse. Just stop. This is the exact same thing and you still - you still don't get it."

[locked to new hires] post-babadon't

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cw: suicidal thoughts

Re: cw: suicidal thoughts

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