It was in her mind that the world had become a dismal grey. She didn't know one thing from another, and it seemed as if everything that touched her crumbled away into the murky color. Everything was nothing and yet that dull pain still persisted.
She was yet a white ghost drifting between the junk and haunting the Junkyard. She coul dsee the kittens as she drew near them shrieking and shying away, noting the bruised eyes that blossomed upon her once soft, slender white face. They could see the ragged condition her lips were in from where she'd bit time and time again into the flesh, deviating them from their natural place.
Her tongue would occasionally touch them, but then she'd shriek and fall to her knees, his name constantly leaving her lips as sobs wracked her body. Someone close to her - usually her brother - would come rushing over, their consoling arms cocooning her as they whispered nothings into her sensitve ears, but at those times she could think of nothing but his handsome face.
And the way his blood had looks splattered across their kits.
The day was still so clear, and it seemed as if nothing could banish the foggy memory and the constant reminder. Not even Mistoffelees' tender touch could ever bring her from the hideous nightmares that dogged her every waking minute, to the point of where she wanted it all to end. She didn't want to lift a claw to catch a mouse. She didn't want to work her jaw to swallow the morsel.
She wasn't sure why it came so hard upon her. She only knew the greyness. After all, as far as she knew, plenty of cats had lost their mates. Jennyanydots had lost two, and Jellylorum herself had had one. Deuteronomy as well, had buried nine, as his song proclaimed.
And plenty of people had lost their kittens, to many a causes, and some with similar stories as hers.
But yet she couldn't stop the tearless, horrendous nights and days that were her life. She couldn't stop the slack muscles that made it to wear someone always had to force feed her, snapping the jaws against one another.
She couldn't stop.
Nothing would stop.
"Plato," Victoria purred, rubbing her cheek to Plato's neck, feeling the warmth wreathing from the brown fur as his arms soon enveloped her. Her noises of pleasure merely rose as she gave a slight turn, motioning towards the sleeping kits, their sleeping forms only rising and falling with their breaths. Two perfect little kits.
"How have they been?" Plato queried, sidling forward as he settled down in the nest. His tail flicked happily over top their limp forms as he smiled to his mate, watching the beautiful figure slowly slip towards him. Her white fur was immaculate, despite having to care for the children, and he could only marvel at it.
"Perfect," Victoria replied with a dreamy sigh. She nuzzled against his leg, smiling to him as she settled down. It felt nice to rest after a long day of her fur being tugged, of milk being drawn from her body, and the magical bolts of Mistoffelees flying about her den as he attempted to distract her wondrous little bundles.
They were hers and Plato's, and that made them all the more wonderful.
Plato gave a soft chuckle, and ran his hand over top her head fur, feeling the white fur sifting beneath his fingers. "That's a lie," he teased, watching as his mate slipped softly into a sleep, her eyelids fluttering in what seemed like a momentary fight for conciounsness. Shaking his head, he leaned down, winding his arms around her delicate body as he quickly scooped her up.
She murmured slightly in her sleep, head lolling back as he carried her to their own nest, only inches from the kits. They had taken residency in an abandoned Mustang. All the seats had been ripped free aside from the back seat, which was hollowed out to protect the kittens in the foamy circle of warmth.
He and Victoria slept on the floor not far from them in a swath of blankets, bodies curled tight upon one another and ears perked for the slightest sound of their little darlings rising. And so he planned to do now as he settled down his snowy queen, positioning himself beside her, and soon he wound himself against her, their bodies causing pleasurable warmth and comfort.
And that was probably the mistake.
Sleeping shouldn't have been a mistake. That's what most people would think. Sleeping was only a mistake if you were in a state of peril - if you were in a position that would put you in danger. As far as anyone knew that night, they were all rather safe in the quaint little Junkyard with their cozy dens and growing children.
But the Pollicles felt no warm feelings towards the cats, and when a certain wicked ginger happened to set loose a pound of bloodied meat within the Junkyard, then there was certainly no stopping them.
Their wagging jaws and rolling tongues were visible in the dim lights, and their baying could soon be heard as they trundled into the open. A few cats were alerted, and soon the shadowy forms could be seen rising to the tops of their dens, hissing and shrieking in anger. Plenty of them had had run ins with pollicles, and plenty of them didn't want to do it again.
Soon their heavy paws were smacking the dirt once more, and the cats watched as the Pollicles galloped by. Most times they came and left soon after they had entered, getting what they'd come for and returning to their homes. Now, however, they'd begun snuffling around, their noses sucking up dirt as they walked along, ears slapping the sides of their muzzles.
It wasn't until they drew to close that unease prickled the air, and a small yowl was heard.
From atop a giant black hat - an old play prop someone had left - a tom rose up, mouth stretched wide in a shriek as he attempted to lurch from the surface. He was grabbed, however, by a larger, maned tom.
Mistoffelees let out a snarl, fighting against the restraining arms as he watched the Pollicles draw closer to his sister and to his niece and nephew. His eyes were wild and frantic, and magic sparked dangerously from his pelt, tail a whirlwind of horror behind him.
"LET ME GO!" Mistoffelees shrieked, attempting to motion his fingers to shoot his powers towards the disturbing monstrosities. The Pollicles ignored him, however, their dull eyes already pacing towards the source of their enthusiasm, and Mistoffelees was still being held tight by the Rum Tum Tugger.
"They might pass! Don't waste your time angering them!" Tugger snapped in his ear, and he forced Mistoffelees into an awkward crouch, the tiny tux shivering as his magic calmed, and he felt horror pulsating through every limb, replacing the magical energy with something much more dreaded. "I can't let you get hurt," Tugger mumbled softly, watching as the Pollicles moved on.
Victoria and Plato were still peacefully asleep. They'd been wreathed in one anothers smell, blissfully unaware of the looming danger. They were sound, as were the kittens, their tiny jaws stretching into yawns as a few clicks came from their slumbering forms.
And then the whole world rocked.
Plato was the first awake, struggling up from his nest as he staggered to a standing position. His legs braced themselves as he stared frightfully around, only to come face to face with a yapping Pollicle. The window separated them, but all of his fur still stood on end, tail fluffing up as he let loose a shriek.
There was no time for pride.
Victoria and the kittens were soon awake. Their eyes were widened as well. Victoria immediately shot across the car floor, gathering up the kits. Their loud wails split the air, and Victoria sought to soothe them. Sought to calm them, but she was failing.
Plato felt shock course through him, and he attempted to stand before his mate and any horrid things that resided outside. It seemed rather useless, though, as the window shattered in a rain of frosted glass. Plato flinched down, glass spattering his eyes. With a startled yelp, Plato fell back, clawing at his eyes as his kits began to wail behind him.
Victoria was crying as well, holding her kittens to her chest as she tried to reach Plato, her struggling love. It was futile, however ,as teeth clamped around his brown ankle, twisting sharply and splitting the night air with a crack.
Victoria gave another wail as the Pollicle pulled back, rearing onto its hind legs as Plato was dragged from the car. His shrieks reached her ears in a hideous symphony, and she could only watch as the other Pollicle greedily latched onto his arm, ripping viciously.
Crying, she watched through blurred tears as her mate's arm was crashed between teeth, watching as the white bone was punctured and crushed between gyrating jaws. Watched as his blood splattered the ground. Watched as his dying screams filled the air. Watched as he was slowly taken from her life in a grisly afair.
And then the Pollicles turned to her.
Insanity shot through her - she wasn't even sure what she was doing - she only knew her kits were wailing for daddy and daddy wasn't ever coming back. Taking a small breath, she slid forward, the Pollicles' eyes watching her doggedly, their dull, sparkless eyes staring forward. Their tongues lolled out, and Plato's blood slithered out with their drool.
Taking a sharp breath, she lurched forward, launching herself from the car. She saw the other cats watching, horrified, as Victoria attempted to run. Her paws hit blood and she slipped and slithered in the puddle. Her kits were screaming louder then ever as the Pollicles drew closer to Victoria, their breaht hot as it ruffled her fur, promising her end just like her mate's.
Mistoffelees was screaing her name, his body jerking as Tugger held him tight. Victoria felt a flash of rage at Tugger - her mate could've possibly lived with Mistoffelees' intervention! - but that didn't matter now. What did was leaping across Plato's corpse, ignoring the sightless, gazing skull devoid of flesh as she flew across the Junkyard.
It was something stupid, like her fur being snagged on something, or her paw being caught in a hold, or just sheer panic making her reckless. But in a moment she was eating dirt, her kits flying from her arms. Another scream left her lips as she stared helplessly at her precious babies. At her wondrous bundles. At the only thing she had left.
And in a moment the Pollicles had thundered past her, jaws eagerly snapping up the kits. She screamed.
Oh such a scream.
Such a scream she was almost frightened that her throat would brust free, blood splattering the ground like her kittens' was doing now. Their limbs flew. Teeth chomped. Their childish screams had passed away long ago as bit by bit they were severed from her life and from a noticeable form.
She couldn't even fight anymore.
Couldn't muster the strength.
All she knew next was that Mistoffelees had managed to free himself from Tugger. Electricity sizzled in the air as shot after shot was fire. Crack after crack was unleased. Mistoffelees wasn't powerful enough yet to take down a Pollicle, but she could see whip marks and burnt fur covering their flanks and ribs.
Their yelps filled the air, but Victoria couldn't even take satisfaction in that. She could only note that she was covered in the blood of her loved ones, and that Mistoffelees was slowly growing closer, his eyes squinted with tears as he sunk to his knees beside her. He stared miserably at the corpses - they had been his friends and kin.
But they hadn't meant as much to him as they had to Victoria. He was soon bundling her into his arms, though, clutching at his distraught sister. Words fell from his lips like a bubbling spring, but Victoria was once again to far gone.
Victoria sat dully in the old car. They'd found the hunk of meat that Macavity had placed long ago, when they'd gathered the limbs. She'd watched them dig it out, sniffing out the familiar smell and sharing guilty glances. No one had come near her though, and they always kept their eyes down. No doubt they often wondered whether or not they should have fought - should have risked more lives to save such a tragedy.
But now, so far into the future, none of them felt that way any longer. Barely did any cat let the name Plato escape their lips. If they did, it was a nursery tale for kits so they'd behave for fear of the Pollicles.
Victoria hated those tales.
She also hated the ruin that had fallen after the deaths. While she was a wraith, and could care for nothing, she did take notice. Did see. Did hear. Just as she'd heard her brother's falling out with his own love. Mistoffelees had been livid that Tugger had held him back. Tugger had been furious that Mistoffelees had risked himself like a 'fucking dumbass moron' so to quote. They'd ceased contact.
Cassandra was in a constant state of panic due to the attack, her and Alonzo's kittens constantly being shoved beneath a car at the slightest sound. Munkustrap and Demeter had even broken apart due to Demeter's anxiety. She'd personally dealt with Macavity, and the thought of her kits being harmed had made her hysterical. Munkustrap hadn't been able to deal with it along with all of his responsibilities.
And Victoria took it all in stride. Took it all in silence. She often reflected on the fact that she hadn't wished to survive. She wished she could've died. To be with her kits and Plato up there in the Heavyside Layer until the Everlasting Cat told them they would be revived in a new form, to rejoin the Earth.
With a sad smile, the first one in a long time, Victoria splayed herself across their old car, the old blood stains still dry and crisp against the rusted paint.
Maybe if she lay there long enough, the grey would fully take over.
This and the second chapter were written for the writing challenge that I was doing on Tumblr, so yep...
Reviews are of course rather nice.