(Disclaimer! I don't own cats. RUG/ALW does/do.)
In our Veins
Opposite
From the moment they were born, they were…well, different.
It was a miracle that touched each and every Jellicle's heart on an amazingly frequent basis. The sheer innocence of it, the utter perfection of the happy moments that followed, it was something most could not imagine life without. A newborn kitten without the ability to fend for itself was the sort of thing that invoked the natural protective instincts of the tribe. Each and every birth was special. It was long awaited, joyous. Every time it was different- tense, in a terribly good way.
The birthday of these kittens was one anybody present was sure to remember. It was a perfectly normal litter of four kittens; two red as fire and two brown- and stillborn.
She was a flame and he was a fire.
She was delicate, fragile, slender-framed; a true beauty and flirt in the making. He was tough, well built, and he would not take nonsense from his piers. She had no bad intentions; she developed slowly, a perfectly normal Jellicle kitten. He grew fast, becoming more destructive as he grew. Hurting, destroying, and finally killing.
Candles go out, but wildfires only grow.
Although she could not stand him, despised him for hurting her friends, hated him for killing those he had drawn in and lead to believe that they meant something, once he was gone she found herself to be- lonely. She could walk the length of the junkyard five times without a single greeting or 'hello'. And if only that were the worst of it! When she left she could hear them whisper, and beyond that, she could feel their scorn.
The flame is the beauty; the light is its pier.
Life went on for her- horribly, horribly. Her parents dead, her blood brother a betrayer, and her only friends wary of her, as if she were some sort of ticking time bomb of responsibility. Then there was the one. The bold little kitten who was always sticking her nose where it did not belong. That kitten was her light, like a dying hope. They were just that, a flame, a burst of hope, a cry for acceptance, and that dying, fading hope again, two fold, dimmer, all golden in the dead of night. There were no words for how much she cared for her Light. They were always together. They shared a love that sisters overlooked. Her Light brought her back to friends. She no longer felt estranged, she was accepted.
Bombalurina was his opposite.