A/N: Hello, people of the Cats fandom (and any other people who are reading this.) Yes, it's me, Raptor, back from my much-too-long hiatus. I'm going to try and keep Author's Notes pretty scarce in this fic, so I'm just going to say the main things in this first A/N.
1. This was prompted by BroadwayKhaos's History of the Jellicles contest, but won't actually be entered, because it both involves more than three OCs and most certainly won't be completed before July 23rd. (It will, most likely, be my longest fic. The summary itself spanned five pages. ((And
2. AtA will definitely involve some things that I know not all people are comfortable with. Slash, femslash, incest, etc. (Most of it only appears in Part 2, but still.)
4. If you'd like to know any "behind the scenes" stuff on the story- how I got the names, how I decided on the setting, et cetera- feel free to ask! The only reason I'll refuse to tell you is if it's answered later in the story, and I don't want to give spoilers. ;)
5. Enjoy! :)
London, England
March, 1940
The entire world was at war. At first, the cats of England thought that only the humans would be affected by it. Then, as valuable territory was bombed into ruins, they began to see the truth. The fighting hurt everyone. Rationing made the humans less wasteful, so scavenging for food became harder. Air raids killed cats and destroyed their dens. Warfare began among the gangs of London, each one desperate to make up for the territory it had lost. The fighting continued for months, before one of the gang leaders finally saw reason.
His name was Shemot, leader of the Seraphim.
"Father, are you sure this is the best idea?" a slim, brown Maine Coon tom asked hesitantly.
"I am quite sure, Asparagus," Shemot replied gravely as he sat down on the steps of Westminster abbey. He had a piece of parchment in one hand, a pen in the other. "It is the only way."
Asparagus sighed, but gave a nod. He looked around at the assembled cats- it seemed as though all of the Seraphim had come together for this occasion.
"And what do you think of my plan, Deuteronomy?" Shemot asked his second son absentmindedly, putting his pen to paper and beginning to write.
"I believe it's a good idea," Deuteronomy replied after careful thought. "Teatro, at the least, will see it from your point of view."
"Which means that, if he agrees, we will at least have one less enemy to fight," the older tom said with a smile, signing the letter before starting on a copy of it. Once it- and two more replicas- had been finished, he handed them all over to be delivered. "Either way, we shall see their reactions soon enough…"
Picking her way through the rubble of the East End, the young queen followed the sounds of shouting. She had a letter clutched in her hands. She gulped slightly as she saw two cats sparring- one a scrawny calico tom, the other a wiry Havana Brown queen.
"M-Mistress Boudicca?" she asked meekly, directing her gaze towards the Havana Brown. The fighting stopped immediately.
"What's it?" her leader replied quietly, ignoring the calico as he scampered for safety.
"Y-you have a message. From Shemot, of-"
"The Seraphim, I know." Boudicca stepped forward and took the letter from Iceni, glancing over it briefly. She then stopped, and read it again- more slowly this time. She let out an incredulous laugh.
"What's the old muppet got into 'is 'ead now?" The Irish queen shook her head slowly, before grabbing a pen and scribbling her response.
"It is okay, Bella," a slightly overweight Bengal tom comforted, sitting next to his daughter on the theater steps. It was a wonderful, sunny day, and they had just been practicing their singing. "Everybody's voice cracks at times. Even mine!" He gave a laugh.
"Thank you, Padre," Grizabella replied with a slight smile. Her voice held no trace of the Spanish that accented her father's. "I'll just keep practicing." She looked out at the cat running towards them. "Padre, it seems that there's a letter for you."
He looked up, interested, as the messenger arrived and gave a bow.
"Señor Teatro, Shemot of the Seraphim has sent a letter."
Teatro took the piece of paper with interest, and slowly read through it.
"It seems to be excellent idea to me," he murmured to himself, before taking the pen the messenger handed him and recording his reply. He smiled brightly and returned the letter.
A petite, black-and-white queen ran through the streets of Marylebone. She held something in her hands as she slowed down and entered a secluded alley, squeezing past a large cardboard box. Past the box, it looked almost as though she had entered a different world- various containers, ranging from flowerpots to wooden crates to abandoned iceboxes were arrayed against the walls of the alleyway. All were draped and connected with tulle and fairy lights, and several had sprigs of wildflowers stuck into nooks and crannies. The Tantsory were well known for their concern with aesthetics.
The queen continued walking down the row of dens, nodding to the cats she passed, before disappearing into a particularly large and glamorous one, formed out of a chest and several hat boxes.
"Miss Krasota?" she greeted softly as she entered. She noticed that only two of the three silk cushions were occupied, by white Persian queens- their brother must have been out hunting, or some such thing.
"Yes, Tonya?" the one in the middle asked, her light Russian accent adding a gentle lilt to her words.
"You have a letter, madame. From Shemot, of the Seraphim." Tonya handed over the parchment, and Krasota read it with a great deal of interest, raising an eyebrow. She gave a slightly scornful laugh.
"Shemot is becoming senile in his old age." She shook her head. "However, I will see what he has to say. Do you agree with this, Pevitsa?"
The queen to her left gave a slight nod, not looking up from the ground.
"I am glad," Krasota declared, somewhat uncertainly, before taking a pen and writing her response.
Lume gulped, blushing brightly as she walked through the halls of the half-collapsed apartment building. Admittedly, she was nervous. She had tried to pull the "I'm-too-young" excuse on the other messengers- she was only fourteen, for the Everlasting's sake!- but they had insisted, pretending that there was nothing to even remotely worried about. (Their relieved glances when she had submitted told her otherwise.)
She paused, taking a deep breath to try and calm down, and looked through a hole in the wall at the Thames. They'll be done by the time you get there, she told herself, though she didn't believe it at all. In any case, there's- there's no point in procrastinating. Even if there really is. No, shut up, Lume! This is an important letter! He'll thank you for delivering it!
Her blush returned in full force as she remembered what their leader had done before to… thank… his messengers.
He won't mention it because I'm fourteen. He won't. I mean, sure, he may be a little… weird… at times, but he isn't… She couldn't even bring herself to think the word.
Lume took another breath, and walked along for a few moments before knocking on the door to one of the apartments. It opened, and a very cheerful-looking, short, Bombay tom poked his head out. She tried to ignore the fact that his fur was rather messy, and a rather attractive, voluptuous red queen was standing just over his left shoulder.
"Hello, Lume, mio caro!" he greeted brightly, as if they had bumped into each other while on a stroll through Hyde Park, or some such thing.
"H-hello, Signore Tiro," she replied meekly.
"How are your lessons coming along, mio caro?" Tiro continued with a smile.
"V-very well, Signore. Elena has started teaching me about controlling fire."
"Excellent! That is excellent. Now, eh… why are you here, if I might ask, mio caro?"
Lume was very glad that he had gotten to the point, and thrust the letter into his hands.
"Y-you have a message, Signore. From Sh-Shemot. The Seraphim leader."
Tiro looked at the message with a great deal of interest, completely ignoring his now rather irritated-looking partner.
"Do you have a pen with you, Lume?" he asked mildly. She quickly shoved that into his hands as well, eager to be out of there.
"Grazie, mio caro," he murmured idly, quickly writing a few words on the paper. He then folded it neatly and handed it back to her with a smile. "Please deliver this to Shemot when you can."
"Y-yes, Signore." With that, Lume bolted away.
Tiro turned back to the red queen with a vaguely confused expression.
"I wonder why she seemed so eager to run away?" He shrugged, not bothering to wait for an answer before hooking his arms around her waist with a mischievous smirk. "Now, bella, where were we…?"