Grizabella had not left her bed all day- Or was it their bed, now that she'd found a dependable mate? Either way, the fragrance, the heat, the memory of their shared time and space had imprinted on her new and younger skin, seeped into her veins alongside the holy blood she'd so blasphemously imbibed. The spiked pattern of Macavity's fur had left dents in her flesh as well, as she had spent so many hours with the full weight of her body and her love pressed heavily upon it.
Only recently had he gone to scout the Jellicle convention for any new tidings. He would be quick, he promised, to return to his beloved. It had been merely minutes but her patience was already waning, so eager was she to see the Moon through new eyes. She rose at last and dressed herself in a clean white coat, one she'd had decades ago but never wore for fear of tarnishing. Now she was worthy of it, and it was worthy of her.
Almost as soon as she had finished dressing- well, it was no easy feat rinsing the blood from her dark locks- Macavity slipped again through the secret window. He took her paw in his as soon as she was within reach and planted a sensuous kiss there, making her wish she'd stayed abed for more. But his usual, stern demeanor returned after this show of affection, and he delivered to her a revelation which made her believe for a moment this whole week had been one surreal dream from which she'd yet to wake.
So, she had been chosen for the Resurrection? Now, of all times, after she'd worked so hard to achieve her own? Where were you, Moon, when I last pleaded for your ear? Ah, right. Leagues away in the blasted sky! Well, perhaps its blessing would not be so redundant after all. If she were reborn, it would be into this body, which- perhaps by merit alone- was far preferable even to the one she inhabited in the morning of her youth. She giggled to think of those Jellicle fools handing their most precious treasure over to one who had already wrenched it from their cold, dead claws!
Still, Macavity's expression had not changed. He urged her to be wary of the Jellicles- Mr. Mestophiles in particular- for their reaction to her changed form might not be as favorable as her own, or his. They might take her for some impostor, or worse, a witch capable of manipulating time itself (a trick only the eldest of the Church had mastered). So he would travel alongside her, but in the shadows, to the festival, watching her back and stalking everyone else's.
Her red-painted lips curled involuntarily at the idea of having Macavity's eyes fixed on her, and she kissed him- on the mouth, of course- for good measure before they set out for the night.