✦ 5000

[River Song]

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Username: River Song
Cat Name: Citadel
Gender: Male
Rank: Citizen
Clan: Neo-Haleth
Age: Adult

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[River Song]

the back room of a teahouse

Citadel can feel his heartbeat fluttering in his clenched molars. He’s in a small room; the walls draped with a synthetic velvet that traps plumes of smoldering incense, filling the air with whisps of smoke.
Across from him, the reader is illuminated by candlelight. The orange glow catches on her blue eyes, and for a fleeting moment, her face is not her face. Those bright eyes, the twist of her smile is so painfully familiar that Citadel physically recoils. The face of Six stares back at him, smiling. Always smiling. The smoke of their exhale curls around their whiskers, and their face, obscured, could almost be a skull.
He’s seeing ghosts again. He digs his claws into his wrist. Tries to catch his breath. The scar across his nose twists as his entire expression tenses. Then, the she-cat reaches a paw out, her gentle touch crossing the barrier, and his head snaps up. She meets Citadel’s eyes.
The vision is gone.
He swallows hard. He doesn’t need to be here, not really. He has seen his own future, and it is short and violent. That’s all the world can offer something like him. He should leave. He doesn’t.
“So, you have questions for me?” The reader speaks; her voice lilted with a buzzing energy.
He desperately wants to leave. His pulse thrums in his throat. He has to know.
“How did I get here? How do I keep going?”

The reader’s expression softens into something that could almost be sympathy.
She shuffles her deck, paws moving in a practiced rhythm, before dropping four cards facedown on the metal table.

“This first card is the past- it’s where you’re coming from.” Her claws reach out delicately, pinching the edge to flip the card. An upside-down figure dances with a cloaked cat.
“This is the Lovers, reversed. This is a card of partnership, of commitment. Reversed, it speaks to poor choices you’ve made. You had someone, once, but were scared to commit. Perhaps now it’s too late,”
Her paw flips the second card. A figure stands with their back to an audience. The reader flicks her ear.
“The Devil. This is the present – where you are now. There’s an emptiness in your life. You feel trapped, your individual power has been pulled from you. You’re living for the short term, not thinking about tomorrow, hey?”
Citadel swallows. A distant guilt pulls at him, settling somewhere beneath his ribcage.
She flips another card. A solitary dancer, sword raised, moves forward, but looks back.
“The Fool, reversed. This is where you’re heading.”
She looks away then, her whiskers twitching just slightly. Her smile is laced with something Citadel can’t quite place, and it sets him on edge. Maybe it’s disgust she’s looking at him with. Maybe she can smell the blood on his fur. Gods, he wants to leave.
“The Fool is a card for those who aren’t looking where they’re going. You’re heading straight for the fall because you’re choosing not to see the risks. I won’t lie to you – this doesn’t look good. Whatever path you are taking, reconsider it.”
He jerks back, his chair scraping loudly against the cracked linoleum. He doesn’t have to take this from her. Why should he listen to some crazy soothsayer.

“Wait.” She says. He freezes.
One more card, still facedown.
“There’s one more card.”
She flips it with a delicate movement. A figure dances against a clouded sky. They could be leaping or falling.
“The Star. It asks you to trust the world, and it promises healing. Whatever has changed, whatever has happened, you are still you – and the Star asks you to follow the light within yourself.”
She presses the card into his paw, forcing his fingers to close around the paper.
“Hold onto this. You need it more than I do.”

Citadel says nothing. He should have expected hollow reassurances. He turns sharply away, so the reader can’t see the devastation on his face. His tail lashes. Heat pricks behind his eyes. He can’t cry. Not here. He needs to leave.
He pushes his way out onto the street, and the sky is a grey smear above the buildings. He could be in any town. A car misfires. He jumps at the noise.

He holds The Star in his trembling paws.

[River Song]

somewhere in the jungle

The wet air of the jungle clings their pelts as the four cats slink through the undergrowth. Mosquitoes hum in fattened clouds, biting at the skin around their ears and eyes despite the bug spray.
Zero has his goggles down, the clinging humidity leaving a muggy fog on the lenses - his other three companions have no such protection.
“It’s been months in this godforsaken place. You think they’ve forgotten us?” Seventeen snarls out, unable to mask the bitterness in his voice. At his side, Six laughs, their blue and orange eyes bright in the fading evening light.
“Sev, they wouldn’t keep dropping supplies if they forgot.”
Fifteen flicks a mud-spattered ear at the conversation, turning to his companions. His whiskers twitch as he speaks.
“We know our orders. We keep pushing until we’re ordered to stop.”
“Who gave you the authority to boss us around?” Six’s teeth flash as they grin.
“Seniority.”
“Oh, right… You’re nineteen, that one year has radically shaped you into a fantastic leader. How are those joints feeling, old man?”
Six’s laughter rises through the foliage. Seventeen can’t help but join, especially as Fifteen’s tail flicks in annoyance.

Ahead, Zero turns back, narrowing his dark eyes. He shoulders his rifle, speaking with a quiet urgency.
“Shut up. They could be anywhere. We don’t draw attention until we’re ready.”
The group quiets, turning their attention back to the wilderness before them. A moment of terse breath. The buzz of the mosquitoes. A rustle of leaves. A glossy lizard skittering into the upper branches of a banyan.
Then Zero flicks his tail in an all clear, and they move forward yet again.

That night at camp, Six is laughing again. Their grin cuts through the night in between mouthfuls of rehydrated chicken.
Seventeen watches the blue and green cat, watches the firelight dancing against their fur. They even have Zero chuckling, his head shaking at some crude joke. Sev sips at his tea. It tastes like nothing but metal and hot water, but right now it’s warm against the roof of his mouth. That same warmth settles within his core as he watches. Six has pulled Fifteen into his arms, a mockery of tango where the smaller blue cat spins and dips around their golden companion.
After a minute, they free Fifteen’s paws, the disgruntled tabby settling back against a mossy tree trunk. His dour expression doesn’t quite hide the joy behind his eyes.
Six flicks their tail, their eyes catching Seventeen. They stalk towards him with the grace of a dancer, and the intentions of a trickster.
“You think you can get away by brooding in the corner?” Seventeen shakes his head.
“I’m trying to drink my tea here.”
“Your tea will still be here after. Come on, gimme your paw.”
Six hauls him to his feet. Seventeen offers no real resistance.
Six’s paw in his own is warm. Warmer than his tea cooling in its thermos. Warmer than the firelight casting their shadows long across the foliage.
Sev purrs as Six twirls him under their arm. He purrs harder as they pull him close to their chest.
Despite himself, he purrs.

[River Song]

winning a name

Six is leaning back against the mossy trunk of a fallen log. It’s been just the two of them at basecamp for a week now, and their affections, normally kept as whisper quiet secrets and knowing glances, have grown. Right now, Seventeen has his head in Six’s lap, the blue cat’s paws playing with the fur of his cheek.
Sev is purring. He’s been purring more these days – and not even the small sting of embarrassment that comes with it can soften just how relaxed he is. The small scraps of normalcy are nice.
He knows Fifteen and Zero will return soon, and the comforts of his companion will slip back away, but in this shimmering dusk the thought of ever being apart from Six feels like an impossibility.
Six’s expression is distant, their mottled eyes staring somewhere past the horizon.
“What are you thinking about?” Sev’s voice feels deeper than usual, rumbling with a fading purr. It’s an unusual sensation, but not an unpleasant one.

“Did you have a name, Sev? I mean – A real name, not just a number, before everything.”
Seventeen feels his heartbeat skip. He’s never thought about it, and now here this brightly coloured cat is asking gentle questions. Eviscerating him with their relentless curiosity.

“No. Or, I must have, but I was too young to remember it.”
Seventeen shakes his head. A flicker of sadness crosses Six’s face, although Sev isn’t sure how he’s upset them.
“Did you have one? Do you remember it, I mean?”
Their expression softens.
“I was older when they scouted me. I remember a bit about home - before the barracks, you know?”
Sev looks at their face then, really looks. He sees the curve of their lilted smile carve its way onto their face.
“I was a real troublemaker. My parents had named me Jude, but by the time I was twelve everyone in town was calling me Judge. Doesn’t really matter,” They shrug, their soft smile still dancing across their face. “I’m Six now, and that’s fine by me.”
“Judge.” He says it with a certain reverence. Like it’s something holy. Their smile falters. “Sorry. I didn’t mean-” He starts, but Six cuts him off.
“You’re sweet, Sev. You deserve to have more than a number.”
“Bit too late for that.”
“What about… something like Amber? For your eyes.”
“No. Absolutely not.” His voice has an edge of bite to it. Six simply laughs.
“Okay, okay. Be glad I didn’t suggest Roger.” Their tone is light. Their gentle paw still pets against the fur of his face. The claws resting on his jawbone are grounding.
“I am truly glad you didn’t suggest Roger. My dignity would have never recovered.”
“You’re so picky. I don’t know how you’ve survived out here this long,” They pause, thinking for a long moment. “What about Citadel?”
“Like… a city?” He cocks his head, cheek pressing into their palm with the motion.
“I’ve seen you fight, Sev. Think less city, and more… final line of defense. It’s the right name for a soldier. But- uh, if you don’t like it, that’s ok. We’ll find something fitting.”
“No.” His voice is harsh again, and he winces. Softens his tone. “I like it. I really like it.”
This time, its Six who’s voice rumbles with a purr.
“Citadel it is then.”
They lean forward then, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Their fur smells like wet tea leaves and propane.
Citadel inhales their scent until the world around him fades away. There is no jungle, no war, only their breath and the warmth of their paw.

[River Song]

[River Song]

somewhere in the jungle

They’ve resorted to steeping their tea three times over. It had always been watery, always tasted like metal, but the dregs of the third steep are more hot water than flavour - to the point they all miss the metallic tang.
Still, they clung to the ritual of it – In the morning, tea as breakfast. Tea as lunch.
Tea, diluted into nothingness, and half a MRE each for dinner.
Word from above was that the NHCG was having trouble getting them supplies. They’d been eating lean for weeks.

The camp seemed like a blessing. Word from above was that it had been cleaned out by another team months ago. Word from above said the hostiles were neutralized fast enough they’d left their rations behind.
The plan had been orchestrated with Fifteen’s careful judgement, his slender paws flipping through maps and plotting distances. As much as the golden tabby was abrasive, he was smart. Citadel had learned to trust his judgements.
Now, they moved in two teams, Zero and Fifteen taking flank – Citadel and Judge pressing ahead in a straight line.

They’ve relaxed as they walk, laughter now lingering sweet in the backs of their throats.
They’re holding paws again. Citadel isn’t sure when it became a habit. He’s sure the others have noticed, but if they have, they haven’t scolded him for it. As far as he’s concerned, they all need all the comfort they can get.
When Citadel looks back at this moment – when he replays it in his mind, walking the same jungle path over and over again, he tries not to blame the fact that they were holding paws.
He tries not to linger on the way they had been distracted by each others company. He tries not to dissect every other possibility, tries not to chase down all the what ifs. Still, he knows somewhere deep in his core, it could’ve been different. It should’ve been different.

Citadel doesn’t have time to process the wet rustle of foliage. He barely even has time to spin, has just enough time to spot the flash of a grey uniform. The warning he tries to hiss out to Judge is cut short by a blow from a soldier in front of him. Sharp pain makes his vision flicker, and the next blow sends him stumbling.
He snaps his head to Judge. Their fur is a vibrant splash of blue against the rich green of the forest. At their back, a grey uniformed soldier has them by the wrists, pushing them forwards.
They aren’t fighting. Their mismatched eyes hold Citadel’s gaze.

In a matter of hours, the world is reduced to a small concrete room.
Both are surprised, really, to be taken prisoner. It’s a mercy they wouldn’t have offered to the grey coated cats.

Sometimes, late at night, when the only noise is the frog-song of the jungle, they press themselves into the corner of the cell – the one furthest from the door - and whisper to each other.

“I think we’re going to die here, Judge. If they don’t kill us, we’ll starve.”
Citadel keeps his voice low, pulling his claws through the long fur at his cheeks. His claw catches on a snarl in the fur.
“At least their tea is better than ours.” Judge leans their back against his shoulder.
“I thought it was coffee.”
Judge laughs then, their shoulders shaking with a quiet delight.
“Well, it has some sort of a taste, at least. That’s better than what we were drinking back at our camp.” Citadel can’t argue with the blue tom. He sighs softly, letting silence wash over them.

“You really think they won’t try and get us out of here?”
“They won’t. We both know neither of us would’ve gone back for them.”

[River Song]

at the ending of the world

your lover, all sharp angles
all bones and no glory
(discrepant, disheveled,
the only thing you’ve found to match yourself)
does not raise their head from the concrete

and three years ago, today
you were swallowing your laughter
watching a mosquito
(legs spindles, wings wet
struggling and spinning as if made into a dancer)
drowning in your tannin brown tea

and twelve years from now
after the helicopters and the court cases
a man in a slim-fit suit calls it noble
(his eyes on the table, the wall,
the space between your ears)
as if they would have wanted that

as if back then
they hadn’t pressed a muddy paw
into your own
(as if you were anything more than children,
out playing in the woods)
hadn’t asked you just to hold them

as if the world never ended,
and you were never pressed against the concrete,
pressed against the curve of their body
(cold now, no longer trembling,
fur still smelling faintly of camellia)
never begging them to stay

[River Song]

the city of Neo Haleth

When the war ends, countless people spill onto the streets, flying brightly coloured strips of fabric in the buzzing summer air. The world breathes a stuttering sigh of relief. Just this once, enough blood was shed to keep peace. They won.
Politicians, in their offices, draft bills and review polls.
Musicians write songs about fights they never saw.
A single soldier, soul still wet with the bile and sinew of the jungle, sinks further into the corner of the room. The condensation on his champagne flute has made the palm of his paw wet. His claws are pressing hard against the glass. The glass is cold. His palm is wet. Voices move around him, and he can’t pull any out, can’t make order of the bewhiskered generals or the sharp pressed suits of the media.
A camera flashes.
A smiling face praises his dedication.
He feels vaguely nauseous. He feels nothing at all.

[River Song]

[2897 words]

"Dulce Et Decorum Est" is lifted from Wilfred Owen's poem of the same name
Novae belongs to DiamondDogg
Yves belongs to infinitygalixy
Shadewatcher belongs to Archaeopteryx.
Judge, Fifteen, and Zero belong to River Song :3

higher quality images here, here, and here.