Mommy! Nekosoda is being angsty again!
Yes, more based-on-my-life stuff. Fml.
She never really expected them, of all cats, to get together. Really, no one expected it. And now that it happened, it hurt.
She wished she had seen the signs, gotten over him before she stepped in and used her charm to win him over. That was an evil thought, of course—Jemima meant no harm. Jemima didn't mean to like him. Jemima didn't mean to make him like her.
Didn't mean it didn't suck, though—when she sang, his green eyes shone, they were glued to her. When Jemima danced, his eyes were on her. When she danced, no one was there. Only Mistoffelees.
When he said Jellicle Cats are black and white, Victoria felt high as a kite. She was the only pure white Jellicle. That was special, wasn't it? Unfortunately, Jemima was more special.
She was petite. (Jellicle Cats are rather small. Ruin her moment, will you?)
She could sing.
She could dance.
She was perfect. She was so many things Victoria could only hope to be. And those things made Alonzo fall in love with her. Despite Cassandra, despite her lineage, he loved her completely, and she loved him. It didn't matter if Victoria loved him. Sure, Victoria could have the other toms. Jemima could too—and they'd still love her even if she was taken. Jemima was, regrettably, the root of Victoria's problems. And Electra's. And Etcetera's. Didn't matter—they were friends, best friends, nearly sisters even. And no boys—no Tumblebrutus, no Pouncival, no Alonzo—could change that. Even though Victoria really wished it could.
Chuckling, Victoria realized that must've been one of the reasons why Alonzo didn't fall for her. She was such a jealous person, such a snob. Beautiful in face and fur pattern, graceful, intelligent. A tear almost fell when Victoria took in that white fur really wasn't all that special, actually. Jemima was a beautiful blend of colors—red, white, and black. Red. Red was fiery, passionate. White was plain.
It was ironic, this whole situation. Wasn't Victoria supposed to be the one making everyone else jealous? She was finally getting a taste of her own medicine. Karma. She remembered scuffles she'd gotten in with Etcetera over being a "subtle showoff," and in the back of her mind she felt so proud. If someone could be jealous of her, couldn't they love her? Apparently not. Victoria didn't like the feeling of jealousy. And now, whenever her eyes even passed over Jemima or Alonzo—or worse, the two of them together—her chest filled with steaming envy, and Victoria almost worried that her heart would boil away.
No matter how hollow she felt, Victoria gave Alonzo advice on how to ask Jemima to the Ball, gave Jemima thumbs up and a wink when he walked over. And she never shed even one tear, because Victoria was strong, and she would stay that way. She'd be happy for Jemima. She'd be glued to cloud nine, no matter what.
No matter what.
If you don't understand my choice in love triangle, ask me about it.