#my headcanon is a magicat planet is warm so they just wear pants to keep cool

[parts-of-spop]

Post S5 the Best Friend Squad land on a planet occupied by Magicats...

Part 2.5:  Catra slows her marching to a complete halt in the middle of the clearing. Her nose itches and a sneeze escapes just as her companions move to join her.

She blanches.

Magic. Too much always makes her sneeze.

“Wait! Don’t come any closer!”

She yelps as the grass abruptly erupts in orange light around her in a large ring.

 A sigil. 

Not one she recognises and the language in it isn’t familiar either.

“Catra!” Adora cries in a panic.

“I’m okay! Just stay back a minute!” She calls back firmly, waving them off.

This... This feels familiar.

It’s them.

They’re stood just beyond the barrier’s limits, fluffy grey ears perked towards Catra in obvious curiosity, tail swishing back and forth.

They’re wearing a pair of loose dark grey pants and a belt holding an array of leather pouches. They aren’t wearing a shirt, proudly displaying dark ringed spots and four pale scars spread deep across their chest.

They’re lean and built like Catra if a little bulkier but she’s pretty convinced she could take them in a fight if she had to.

The stare off continues and she fidgets, glancing to her companions before shrugging helplessly and returning her gaze to her possible foe who is now eyeing her shirt suspiciously.

What do they have against shirts?

“Er… hey?” She says uncertainly and that makes them hiss faintly, ears pinning back before they relax, giving another soft ‘prrt’ of intrigue. Catra has no idea what to do.

“Don’t you talk? Do you speak Etherian?” She presses and glowing orbs blink at her.

Then they give a lazy ‘rawr’.

“I speak but I don’t ‘talk’.”

Catra jumps at the words suddenly slotting into her head and man, she loves Melog but she is not interested in other magical cats clambering into her head… even if she herself is one.

“But you understand me?” Catra says, putting her hand to her own chest and again, the other feline eyes her shirt with clear disdain.

They rawr and grumble again.

”I understand you just fine… but not why you’d wear that.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?!” Catra demands indignantly. A confused look follows with flicking ears.

“You do this often? Are you ill? Does it not press your fur down and aggravate you when damp? How do you bear such discomfort?”

“Because I’m not walking around shirtless! That’s weird!” She retorts, face burning as she remembers her friends and one hopefully soon-to-be wife are listening in on the one-sided conversation.

“Well, why not? Everyone here does save for binds. It’s quite the tropical climate.”

“Are you telling me that nobody here knows what a shirt is?! Please tell me you at least sell them,” Catra pleads, borderline begging and whilst yes, there’s a point about the climate -her fur is already clinging to her and she can only be glad they left in the cooler part of the day- she just really doesn’t want to expose herself like that. The only person allowed to see her even semi-naked is Adora and that is it. And she needs shirts because she keeps ripping them.

By accident of course, the soft material isn’t as tough as her old Horde uniform and she isn’t about to wear that ever again.

A baffled mewl and Catra can feel Bow restraining himself from commenting.

“Why would we sell something we don’t use?”

“Eugh, man, this planet sucks.”

“But it’s your planet. Why would you not like it, Catra?”

She’s about to rant her frustrations when she realises that she absolutely has not given this shirtless weirdo her name.

“How do you know my name?” She says, voice low and wary and the other Magicat cocks their head at her then purrs, tail lashing behind them.

“Everybody knows your name… Princess.”

Then they’re reeling away and darting off on all fours, leaving Catra behind spluttering and gaping before she blinks hard out her daze.

“Hey! Hey, get back here!” She demands a beat before the sigil disappears from around her, allowing her escape, and she hears a low roar from the trees.

“Are you still as fast as our people?”

The challenge burns and her teeth bare in a snarl.

“Catra, what’s wrong? What did they say?” Adora asks worriedly and she shakes her head at her.

“No time. We have to catch them,” She rushes out before darting on ahead, mind still reeling as she darts after the bizarre sorcerer.