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Summary
Chloe sure as shit doesn’t have a halo, but Max still wants to capture her likeness and make her shine in a place like this.
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Max laughs, and Chloe chides her to hold still, Mad Max, you’ll ruin my magnum opus, and yes I know what magnum opus means.
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They stay that way for a long time, Catra’s face tucked into Adora’s shoulder, Adora gently cradling Catra’s head. Adora is careful not to hug Catra too hard or make her feel restrained, anticipating the moment that Catra will start to pull away — but Catra doesn’t. She hangs on so tightly it hurts, her claws digging through Adora’s jacket and into her back, latching into her like she did when she was a kitten and didn’t know how much her claws could hurt. Adora tries not to wince, tries not to move a single muscle, worried that if she does the spell will break and Catra will struggle away, appalled at having shown weakness.
But Catra doesn’t let go. And so neither does Adora.
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Summary
When she looked at Chloe, well. It was like nothing else existed in the world.
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