the food they have to offer here remains FOREIGN to her, unusually vibrant with more texture and flavor than she is accustomed to. back home at the horde, ration bars shaped like bricks that maintained the appearance of wet cement was all that was provided for them. it tasted how it looked and somehow... she survived. with one cheek propped up on her hand, catra swirls the straw in her water cup and eyes the room. nothing of interest captures her attention, much less the man a few seats away from her. being alone is her norm — she doesn’t mind the silence much, anyway.
@hebinokizu















