I was influenced by Sigur Rós's song "Andvari." I recommend that you listen to this track while reading the story. The lyrics are in hopelandic, a made up language filled with syllables. The phonetics form a language, people from virtually any country able to make up their own lyrics, identifying words in their own language. There is no wrong answer. I do believe at the beginning it sounds like Jónsi is singing "I love you." The my favorite part is probably the strings at the very end for the last minute.
CATS is © RUG and ALW.
This fan-fiction contains several of my friends original characters by request and permission. Hopefully I did them some sort of justice.
Roxanne and Shemoh: Roxanne
The rest of the un-credited OCs (inclusive of Kitrina and Fangor) are the creation of ABT (aka Grando181).
As more characters become included, I will credit their respectful creators in the disclaimer. : ) I don’t want to ruin the surprises in store.
Probably this will be a PG13 rating.
Andvari (Icelandic) - translation zephyr
Zephyr - A slight, refreshing wind, a breeze; the Greek God of the West Wind
The passing of time was hard to differentiate at times. There was the unknown sense for the Jellicle Ball, the time all the cats would join together for their rituals, the time Old Deuteronomy would make his pilgrimage. When the celebration was over, the junkyard wouldn’t be empty for long. The strays, though wanderers, had begun to band together, protecting the junkyard from those affiliated with Macavity, and several of the cats with human homes would come by, some even daily and a few nights, to gather, to hunt, to socialize, to play. It wasn’t uncommon for both counterparts of Mistoffelees to appear, the playful and outgoing Quaxo whose ego consistently had to be kept in check as well as the ironically shy showman, Mr. Mistoffelees, who loved to perform and cause do tricks but was far less brash. Victoria would come on occasion, sometimes accompanying Mistoffelees en route, sometimes Jemima but she began to come more frequently since the last ball. And, though no one said anything, it seemed like not much a coincidence that Plato would happen to be hanging around the junkyard on those days, and sometimes, when she wasn’t there, say he was going hunting, alone, and just so happened to go in the direction of her human home. The transformation in the stray who’d mount just about any female he could get his paws on to one who might not have been any less interested in mating, but rather less interest in other females.
“Well, I think it’s sweet,” Kamaria murmured about the pair, Plato and Victoria coming up in conversation. Kamaria sprawled on her back to absorb rays of sun into light brown fur, arms stretched above her.. With the warmth of spring, being outside was only natural. Rather than linger around the junkyard, the young females decided it would be a good day to venture to the park. They’d left in a group, swinging by Jemima’s house to pick her up on the way, led by Shemoh and Kamaria, Jemima and Etcetera hanging back with Electra. Now, they basked in the sun, delighting in a carefree day without hunting for mice, and without dealing with their immature, testosterone-filled friends. Plato and Victoria never would have come up in conversation were it not for the girls putting together why Victoria made an excuse as to meeting up with them later rather than go with them to pick up Jemima. “How many toms would change their habits for a queen? None. Except him.”
“I think they’re being gross,” Etcetera chimed in, nose wrinkling. “They’re so… cutesy. All that love crap, bleh.”
“You don’t need to put a damper on it, Cettie. I think they’re lucky they found their true loves so soon.”
“Bleeeeh. They’ll probably break up in a week or two.”
“Ugh, don’t even start, you two.” Electra licked her paw and rubbed behind her ear. “It’s too nice of a day to waste it arguing about those two dummies.”
“Agreed,” Shemoh added, stretching her back before sitting upright, tail thumping slightly as she followed a butterfly’s path with her eyes. A smile played on her lips.
“I think she could do better. He’s not even that cute,” Etcetera protested.
“Which is why you definitely weren’t dancing with him at the ball,” Electra drawled sarcastically.
“… that so didn’t count! Tugger was right there, so I was a bit distracted. You’d be distracted too.”
“Mhmm. He’s a dreamboat,” Shemoh murmured, still not looking toward her companions as she stalked on the ground, belly brushing against the grass, eyes trained on the fluttering orange and black wings of the Monarch.
Kamaria rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Given a choice of Tugger and a refined tom don’t tell me you’d actually prefer him over a more suitable choice.”
“Much prefer him,” Etcetera chimed in.
“… gotta agree with Etcy,” Electra agreed begrudgingly, and Jemima bit her lip more thoughtfully as she blushed and nodded her head.
“’Sides,” Shemoh called, haunches lifting, hips wriggling in preparation of a pounce, “no harm in looking.” And the sealpoint sprung forth, a coil being unleashed, paws batting out at the butterfly who barely pulled out of reach. Grinning, she broke into a run, series of leaps and bounds, twists and turns, not too concerned in the actual catching of the butterfly but rather the sport that accompanied it.
“Looks like Shemoh saw something shiny again,” Electra offered, rolling her eyes, more so as Etcetera and Jemima looked like they might follow suit for a moment.
“Like that’s new?” Kamaria replied fondly. One of Shemoh’s more endearing qualities extended beyond being good natured. She was one of the few Jellicles she knew that was truly happy where she was, finding a way to be content in any situation and take pleasure wherever she could find it. It was hard to do a single activity with Shemoh sometimes because she found interest in every little thing. She filed away facts, always curious to learn more, but rather than focus extensively on one subject she wanted to know more and more. Kamaria was Shemoh’s opposite in that way, tending to focus on several small things, analyzing them deeply, going beyond the stages of basic fact. She wanted to know the why’s, things exceeding beyond simple logic. She wanted to know someone well enough to predict their moves, to analyze their gestures. She delighted in it.
And, somehow, despite one hanging on subjects while the other glossed through, the two were incredibly close.
“But anyway,” Kamaria continued, trying to get back on track to their older conversation. “I don’t find the Rum Tum Tugger alluring at all. I think Misto is right in that he’s boring. Definitely not my type.”
“So you have a type now? Fancy pants,” Shemoh called, looping in a circle around the bunch, still not bothering to look at them but rather a new target, a duo of small white butterflies.
“Nothing new. I like… I like tall. Lean. Mysterious. Serious but able to enjoy life. Handsome. Refined. Proper-”
“Prince Charming!” Etcetera chimed in, breaking into giggles with Jemima.
“I’m serious! He can have flaws. Could be broody or even solemn or-”
“Odynn!” Etcetera shouted.
“WHAT?!” Kamaria’s eyes widened, the fur on her cheeks tinting light rose.
“Or Munkustrap~~!” Jemima added, voice rising in a singsong. Kamaria pressed paws to her fair cheeks, the markings over her eyes and pink nose illuminating the Abysinnian’s appearance as one might see a lionesse. A regal princess, who at the moment was thoroughly embarrassed.
“Stoooooop itttttt,” Kamaria whined. “It’s not like anything would happen anyway. And what if they find out?”
“I don’t know. Let’s ask them!” Etcetera called, rising to her feet, paws to her lips. “HEY GUYS!”
“WHAT?! NO! WHERE?!?!?!?” Kamaria bolted to her feet, grass sticking to the fur on her back as she looked around, panicked. And, soon, her expression dropped when she noticed their group was, indeed, alone.
“Fooled you!” Etcetera giggled, somersaulting before rolling over, pulling Jemima with her into the pile.
“Lighten up, dork,” Shemoh purred, pouncing onto Kamaria’s shoulders before the queen rolled her off. “It’s all in good fun. Leave us with our fantasies of marrying the Rum Tum Tugger and going to Milan.”
“Mulan! I love that movie!” Etcetera chimed in.
“MILAN!” Electra corrected, groaning.
But lightening up was something that Kamaria struggled with, especially when it came to those particular toms. Munkustrap was an ideal, a tom who liked everyone and who everyone liked. Tall, strong, wonderful storytelling, enunciation. He was brilliant. Kind. And a cat she’d been instantly attracted to, even though he gave her a hard screening before accepting her into the tribe. Really, though, that happened to all potential Jellicles; she didn’t take it hard.
Odynn, on the other hand, was a more recent development, and one that she was embarrassed to have let on so easily. She had started out being annoyed at him, poked one time too many with a fork as he played SPORKS with Pouncival and Tumblebrutus, but he was growing. There was a silence that somewhat accompanied the male, sometimes his grey and cream features giving him the same vibe as Munkustrap. When quiet, he’d gaze into the distance, and no one would disturb him; perhaps he was thinking of his name. It was in one of those times that Kamaria spoke with Odynn alone.
“It’s a beautiful night,” Odynn said, voice softer than it seemed to be only the day before. Kamaria was startled as she looked at him, then the sky, then back. Odynn’s expression was stoic.
“It really is. I love the Cheshire moon.”
“Mm, funny how that is. I used to turn in circles trying to get it to move different directions. Never worked out the way I intended.” He scooted over on the wall and gestured Kamaria take a seat, which she accepted readily. They didn’t say another word for the rest of the evening, content to watch the sky together. When Kamaria woke up, she was on the wall alone. Below, the rat pack walked down the street. Whenever Pouncival, Plato, Alonzo, Admetus, Tumblebrutus, and Odynn got together, it was trouble, though generally Tumblebrutus was the wimp out of the group and relatively harmless.
“What’re you boys up to?” she called.
“We’re on an adventure!” Pouncival called. “Jennyanydots’ coat went missing and we’re searching for clues.”
“So far we’ve found a spoon, an empty tissue box, a stick of Bubble Yum and… hm, wait,” Pouncival looked to his team. “One could have an empty tissue box by wrapping used gum in it!”
“Where does the spoon fit in?” Admetus pondered.
“It doesn’t. That must mean it’s the clue!” Plato proclaimed.
“Uh, DUH!” Odynn proclaimed, gripping a fork fiercely.
Alonzo simply shook his head. “Come on, boys. We’ve got a coat to track down. Onward!”
“See ya!” Plato called, giving a wave as the group set off. Odynn turned his head to Kamaria, gave a closed-mouthed smile and head nod, then continued, picking up a run. “OH MY GOD! THE NEXT CLUE! I SEE A SHOE!”
“Kami? Earth to Kami?” Shemoh teased as she stood directly in front of Kamaria, dark paws on her hip, grinning ear to ear. “Were you thinking about your looooovvverrrs.”
“They’re not my lovers.” Kamaria rose to her feet and stretched. Etcetera, Jemima, and Electra had bounded across the lawn, the trio squealing about a mouse. “I wish though,” she confided to her friend quietly. “I really wish.”
“Life’s too short, Kami,” Shemoh offered in terms of advice, the smile never fading. “Don’t waste it chasing after toms. Let them chase after you.”
And, brightly, Shemoh bounded away from her friend. “Come on! Let’s get that rodent!”