After a battle as She-Ra, Adora is tired anyway. So she pays no mind to it when she grows increasingly tired with each passing hour. She does, however, begin to develop small concerns about the unhealing cut on her side.

~

Adora crashed before the end of the party. She cut the cake with Glimmer, ate way too much, drank a few glasses of punch and passed out on a bench outside. She woke up, still outside, with Catra snoring on her back on the ground. Adora sat up with a small groan, stretching to shed the morning grogginess. Her wound pulled taut at her side, stopping her breath sharply in her throat. She whined lowly, more in annoyance than anything else, as she cupped it. Catra's ears twitched with the sound, but her heterochromia eyes didn't open.

She pulled her hand away, sighing in irritation when it came back stained red. If Catra knew she was still bleeding, three days after the war, she'd be furious and may very well kill her... or force her to the healers, and Adora hated the healers.

They were mean. One was at the very least. Joelina. She always side-eyed Adora with disdain and always bandaged her up way too harshly.

She glanced back to Catra, who was now on her side, purring loudly. Adora huffed fondly. She stood up, leaning against the wall when her vision wavered in a colourful array of rainbow colours, with a sigh. She was sighing a lot today. Adora made her way to the bathroom in her bedroom, thankful that each bedroom had a private bathroom. She pulled her shirt up, hissing as she removed the blood-stained tissue wad. She poked around the area, frowning. The wound did look green. It wasn't the lighting or her bad eyesight. It was definitely tinged green. There were also some faint lines of... glitchy broken code?

Adora shook her head. No. She's hallucinating. Maybe the punch was stronger than she thought... She wet some more tissue paper and dabbed around the cut. It vibrated angrily, bringing tears to her eyes. It took three bunches of wet tissue paper for the wound to stop staining them a horrid red colour. She looked around for something to bandage it up with, just until this evening. Maybe it was all a figment of her imagination? Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought it was.

Her eyes lit up as she picked up an old shirt, one that no longer fit, stuffed into the corner of the room. She tore a strip off and wound it around her stomach tightly, cleaning the blood that had begun to dribble from the open wound. She then pulled her white shirt and jacket back on, sighed at her worn face, and left for the day.

~

That evening, it became clear that the wound wasn't healing. The ripped shirt had bleed through and stained her usual shirt, even staining her jacket a tad. The blood red of the jacked helped to hide it anyway to be fair, but either way. She changed it again, cleaned it thoroughly, and wrapped it up even tighter for the night. Adora knew she looked like rubbish. Even she could see her eyes were sunken and black with the lack of sleep. Thankfully, or tactfully, nobody said anything. The only one brave enough to challenge her on her (lack thereof) self-care was Catra. But she was long asleep, in the depths of dreamland.

She suspected Catra was working through her own issues as well. As she should. Catra, arguably, had been through worse, in Adora's eyes. Not only had they constantly been pitted against each other as kids, despite it never working until they were much older, but it was clear that the blatant favouritism Shadow Weaver showed actually did have an effect on Catra.

She shook her head, cupping some water and splashing it to her face. She inhaled deeply, gripping the sink. The bathroom door opened slowly. "Dora?" Catra mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Hey, you," She smiled. "What's wrong?" Catra's eyes narrowed as she took in the sight. Adora huffed, wincing again when her stomach pulled taut. They narrowed even further. "Just a stitch," Adora lied. Catra's eyes flicked up and down her body. "Hmm. Whatever," She waved her hand. "Now get out. I need to pee,"

~

The wound didn't get any worse bleeding-wise... which was a good thing, Adora supposed. It only continued to get greener with each passing day and the... code-like stuff seemed to creep further and further up. On one particular day, Glimmer had forced Catra out to help rebuild some of Thaymor's houses. Adora decided to transform into She-Ra... maybe the code thing would heal? Usually, Adora's wounds healed when she was She-Ra... She-Ra's wounds, on the other hand, did not heal when she turned into Adora. In fact, they were a whole lot worse.

As per her usual, issue-free routine, she held her hand out and took a deep breath. "For the honour of Grey-" Her breath caught in her lungs in a strangled scream. It flickered before her eyes like a glitch before stopping. It sent a wave of agony throughout her body as if she were trying to lift concrete.

She yelled, snapping her hand back, which now tingled in pain. She was abruptly thrown back to that fateful night in the castle, where the heart was literally killing her. She shuddered, blinked away her tears, flicked her hand and held it out again.

The same result was yielded, but burned for longer afterward. As she lay on her bedroom floor, sideways, the tears couldn't be stopped. "What the hell's happening to me?" She cried softly. Her side grew warm, but not a good warm. Adora grimaced as she pulled away the blood-sodden cloth. She repressed a gag as some... stringy code-like stuff came away from the wound.

She quickly glanced out of her massive window, a luxury they didn't have back in the Horde. The sun was still relatively high. They'd either be having lunch or just finishing up. Adora slowly eased herself up, groaning as her wound protested loudly. The blood continued to drip down her side, now beginning to stain the waistband of her trousers. She ran her hand along the wall to keep her balance steady. It would be rather awkward to turn up with some glitchy shit happening, and a concussion.

The walk to the infirmary was long and laborious... it seemed further away the longer she walked. Maybe trying to transform wasn't the best idea... the wound had only gotten worse when she'd tried, and failed, to change. Perhaps it was a virus that screwed with She-Ra... but why would it make Adora sick? "Whoa," She mumbled, grabbing a windowcill as her vision blacked out for a second. "Princess Adora?" A voice said by her shoulder. A cold hand grasped it firmly.

She blinked owlishly, desperately trying to fight the black dots that threatened to swallow her whole. "Hi, General," She mumbled. "Are you ok? You look very pale," Juliet walked in front, placing both of her armor plated hands atop Adora's shoulders. Adora took a slow inhale, trying to make out the general's face. "I-I was on my way to the infirmary," She mumbled again. Juliet's hands twitched slighly. "Ok. I was on my way to the gardens, but I can take a detour. Come, I'll walk you,"

Adora waved her hand, hoping she didn't hit the general in her dissmisal. "It's fine. Go-go to the gardens," Juliet's left hand moved form her shoulder to her right arm, grasping it firmly. "Nope. The Queen would have my job if I left you like this to get help. Nevermind that cat you have,"

Adora snorted. "Catra,"

Juliet huffed. "I'm not being funny, princess, but you were nearly white. I'm worried you may pass out," Adora hummed lightly. "That's a fair asumption," She agreed. "Becuase I can't see a single thing, and everything's just gone very airy," Her vision blurred into nothing as she, as per Juliet's prediction, passed out.