Chapter Text
As much as some her tribe would like to believe otherwise, Tantomile didn’t spend every second of her life with Coricopat. They started and ended their days together, but even though their secret Names rhymed, they were different songs.
The silent music of her Name played in the farthest reaches of Tantomile’s six senses, and she strained to find the rhythm of it in her heartbeat, in her breath, and the twitching of her whiskers as the wind caressed its gentle fingers through her fur. She sensed that the wind would change direction soon, and bring with it clouds to hide the sun. Rain would follow the next day.
She sat alone in a Western corner of the Junkyard, as still as death with her eyes shut closed, surrendering herself to what her inner eyes might perceive. She needed to be alone for this kind of meditation—the Everlasting Cat had blessed her and her brother with incredible attunement to the world around them, and they felt all their sorrow and joy and anger. Coricopat had always been more skilled at perceiving another cat’s inner nature and thoughts; he could read another cat’s thoughts as though it were a book laid out before him, with pages of desires and fears and at his paws to flip through. He was easy to talk to. He always knew exactly what you wanted to get across.
Tantomile shook her head. Other cats were probably right to think that her and her brother were essentially one in the same; even now as she sat in meditation of her own name, her thoughts strayed back to her brother. It was too easy for them both to become wrapped up in the business other cats; it was difficult not to, when they were a constant presence in her mind.
She tried to banish those thoughts away and focus on herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, peering into her own future. That was her gift—to foretell what had not yet come to pass. But it was easier to see what laid ahead for others than for herself. Would today be the day she got closer to her Name? If not, when?
Uncertainty clouded her mind.
It could be today.
It could be ten years from now.
It could be within the hour.
It could be never.
Her claws pricked into the cardboard slat she sat upon.
Why? What could she do to make it happen sooner?
Too many things. Nothing at all. Just let it happen. Make it happen yourself.
“ HEY, MILES!”
Tantomile jumped three feet into the air. Her fur stood on end as she whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to recognize it.
Her heart raced. It wasn’t often that anything was able to take her by surprise.
“Everlasting’s hairballs, look like you’ve seen a ghost!” the voiced laughed again, and this time, Tantomile was able to place it as Rumpleteazer, crouched above her on an old stack of crates. “Say, can talk to ghosts?” the calico asked, leaping down to the ground. “Seems like that sorta thing would be right up your alley.”
Tantomile sighed, and licked a paw to begin smoothing her fur back down. “No. Ghosts do not exist in the way that you are thinking of them.” She cast her foresight out at Rumpleteazer, searching for an answer as to why she had sought her out. What was she about to ask of her?
Tantomile came up empty. She frowned.
She didn’t come up empty as in, “Rumpleteazer decided to come here because the whim struck her.”
She looked at Rumpleteazer, who was herself examining a discarded shard of plastic.
She scarcely saw anything in her future. She could observe with her eyes that Rumpleteazer was contemplating the piece of plastic, and her limited telepathy told her that Rumpleteazer was thinking vaguely about what she wanted to do with it, but Tantomile’s future vision came up with nothing.
Not the decision to discard the plastic. Not the decision to idly bat it about for a while. Not the decision to see how far she could throw it.
Nothing.
“Can you really call ‘em ghosts, then?” Rumpleteazer asked, turning the plastic over in her paws.
Tantomile blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Well, if you and I are thinkin’ about ghosts, but we both come up with two completely different ideas of ‘em, then can we really call ‘em the same thing, can we?” Rumpleteazer explained. “What do you mean when you’re talkin’ about ghosts?”
Coricopat sometimes spent time with Rumpleteazer and her partner Mungojerrie. He said that Rumpleteazer’s thoughts often ran too fast for him to keep up with, and as Tantomile tried to look in on her mind, she nearly gave herself whiplash.
The ghosts were on her mind, and so was the piece of plastic, and so were a dozen other things that Tantomile couldn’t even identify because as soon as one thought struck her, it was swiftly replaced by something else. The ghosts reminded her of a play Gus did one time, and Gus reminded her that she needed to replace Jellylorum’s embroidery needles before she found out that they were gone, and that was making her think about using the needles as tiny little swords for Jennyanydot’s little mice, and then thinking about mice was making her hungry--
Tantomile saw a clear vision of Rumpleteazer choking and passing out just as she popped the piece of plastic into her mouth.
Before she knew what she was doing, Tantomile immediately rushed forward and thwacked Rumpleteazer on the back of her head. The plastic, now covered in slobber, flew out of her mouth, and Tantomile’s fatalistic vision faded away.
“WHAT were you thinking?” Tantomile demanded, gripping Rumpleteazer’s shoulders. “You would have choked on that if I hadn’t been here!”
Rumpleteazer only had a wide grin on her face, showing off her sharp, crooked teeth. “Wow, thanks!” she said. “That tasted awful!”
Tantomile could only stare, her brows drawn together in deep concern.
And there was no sign that Rumpleteazer was distressed about any of this at all.
“Why did you try to eat that?” Tantomile eventually asked. She still held Rumpleteazer, but her grip had relaxed.
Rumpleteazer shrugged. “Well, it was shaped sort of like this fish I ate once.”
“Fish aren’t made of plastic.”
“Well, that’s a really great point, but I hadn’t considered that, you see.” Rumpleteazer ducked out of Tantomile’s hold and wandered over to a heap of dirty rags, seemingly already bored with the situation. “But you were here to save me, so it all turned out just fine!”
Tantomile couldn’t wrap her head around that. She couldn’t begin imagine taking any action without knowing the consequences.
Even before she had come here to meditate, Tantomile had looked ahead to see if anyone would interrupt her, or if she might be needed while she was gone. And she hadn’t, but she supposed that there was no accounting for Rumpleteazer.
Right. Meditation. She ought to finish up whatever business that Rumpleteazer had sought her out for so she could get back to salvaging her profound contemplation.
“Is there something you wanted from me, Rumpleteazer?” she asked. It came out a little uncomfortable on her tongue; whenever cats came to her, she would usually already know what they were about to ask, and she usually already an answer ready for them.
Rumpleteazer shook her head. She had picked up a cloth to shred mindlessly, and Tantomile hoped that she wasn’t planning on eating that, too. “Nah, I was just taking a merry little stroll, and I saw you sittin’ there lookin’ all upset, so I thought I’d come say hi.” She looked up at Tantomile, her brow furrowed in what looked like genuine worry. “Was it the ghosts, Tantomile? Were you communin’ with those creepy little ghosties, and that’s why you were lookin’ like a Peke took a shit in your litter box?”
Tantomile blinked. And then she barked out a laugh. A real laugh. Nobody ever talked to her like that. But of course Rumpleteazer would. She never stopped to give “why not?” a moment’s consideration, and her scatterbrained thoughts and complete lack of impulse control made it impossible for Tantomile to predict what she was going to do next.
In a way, it was refreshing.
“I wasn’t communing with spirits, no,” Tantomile said, the last remnants of laughter making her voice light. “I was communing with myself. Thinking about my Name.”
“Oh, I gotcha.” Rumpleteazer lifted a paw from the rag—which by new had been clawed into to barely-held-together-threads—and picked at her teeth. It was a little gross, but Tantomile found herself thinking that it was almost charming. She really didn’t think about consequences at all. How freeing that must be. “Tantomile’s a nice name, I ‘spose.”
Tantomile shook her head. “No, my Name. My secret Name that must never be spoken.”
Rumpleteazer cocked her head. “Right. Your Name Name. And how’d that go you for ya?”
Well, that was quite a personal question. A cat’s Name was their private business; an intimate knowledge that should only be shared with a cat’s most trusted confidants.
Still...she thought back to her attempts at peering into her future for her Name. It had been an unclear future; perhaps she wasn’t ready to comprehend it, even if she had seen it. A cat’s Name transcended the boundaries of time and reality; they were said to be fluid and constantly changing, some said that cats kept their Name across all their lives, and others said that it took all nine of their lives to even fully understand it.
It had been foolish of Tantomile to think that she could cheat and skip the discovery process by looking forward in her life for it.
But...many Cats said that they’d found their Names under unexpected circumstances. And Rumpleteazer was perhaps the most unexpected circumstance that Tantomile could think of.
So, against her better judgment, she said, “My Name is still as distant and unclear as ever.” She seated herself on the cardboard slat again, and Rumpleteazer plopped down next to her. She held out the scrappy remains of the cloth she’d been mangling. Tantomile took it and picked at it with her own claws. “Do...” She hesitated for a moment, trying to predict how Rumpleteazer would react to the question on her mind. Of course, she came up with nothing. “Do you think you might know what your Name might be?”
“Certainly not!” Rumpleteazer said with all the confidence of a pigeon strutting across a busy highway. She was still picking her teeth, and Tantomile saw that were were bits of thread stuck in them. She must have been chewing on the fabric while Tantomile wasn’t looking. She discreetly tossed the rag aside and licked her paws clean. “I don’t think about it much, to be honest,” Rumpleteazer finished.
Now it was Tantomile’s turn to cock her head, tongue lapping at her paws. “May I ask why not? Do you not yearn for the enlightenment of self that comes with knowing your Name?”
Rumpleteazer didn’t one bit ashamed of herself as she shook her head. “Look, every time I sit down to think about it, I get damn bored real quick. I’d rather tie Alonzo and Munk’s tails together than sit around doing nothing.” She jerked her head up towards the sky. “I figured I’d just ask the Everlasting Cat when I go to the Heaviside Layer. She’ll probably know.”
Tantomile squinted at Rumpleteazer. That...was one way to figure it out, she supposed. Not really the kind of answer she was looking for, though.
“But would it not be more satisfying to discover the truth of your being for yourself?”
Rumpleteazer examined whatever scum she had gathered on the tip of her claw, and wiped it off on her fur. Tantomile fought back a cringe. “Listen, Miles, I don’t know a lot of shit, but what I do know is that I could either spend all day thinkin’ about shit all the time, or I could fuck around and have fun doing whatever the Hell I want, and one of those things seems a lot more appealing to me.”
Tantomile thought about that for a moment. It seemed to her a rather...counterproductive method. But then again, Rumpleteazer seemed to truly not give a damn about any of life’s deeper questions. She didn’t think about why she wanted to do anything. She acted on her impulses, and perhaps those impulses were just the urges of her truest self, and she had faith enough in herself not to doubt what she wanted? Could it be that, by not pursing her Name, she had let her Name come to her? Could Rumpleteazer be this confident in what she wanted because she had already unconsciously discovered her Name already, and that she was actually a deeply wise cat?
She watched closely as Rumpleteazer pick up a rubber band, stretch it it out as far as it could without snapping, and release it. It slung back and snapped at her eye. She dropped it, swearing loudly.
All right. Perhaps not.
But still, Rumpleteazer’s personal philosophy (and it was a philosophy, haphazard as it may have been) had a certain wisdom about it. Thinking too deeply and looking too closely could make you miss what is before your very eyes. Like trying to look at a mountain when you are already standing at the top of it.
Tantomile was always so occupied with looking ahead that she was failing to cherish the present.
Rumpleteazer rubbed her eye. “Bast damn it...” she cursed. She glanced to Tantomile with a wry smirk on her face “What are you smiling for, Miles?”
“Am I smiling?” Tantomile felt the corners of her mouth twitching up, and she let it happen. “I suppose you just have a very effervescent presence.”
Rumpleteazer hissed, but she smiled as she batted at Tantomile’s shoulder. “Are you calling me names?”
“It means you’re full of life and energy,” Tantomile said as a quiet purr rose in her throat. “Or that you’re a carbonated beverage. The word has two meanings.”
Rumpleteazer nodded sagely. “Right. Like our ghosts.”
“Well—sure. Just like our ghosts.”
The two queens ran out of things to say, and a companionable silence fell between them. It didn’t take long for Rumpleteazer to get fidgety and restless again.
Tantomile didn’t think of herself as an especially exciting cat to be around, but Rumpleteazer didn’t seem inclined to leave and find something more entertaining to do. Tantomile watched her flop onto her back to watch the clouds roll in, and Tantomile laid down next to her. As she had foreseen, the clouds were beginning to block the sun, and soon enough, it would begin to get chilly. In the silence, Tantomile sensed Rumpleteazer’s mind buzzing with its usual incomprehensible activity, but for once in the time they’d been in each other’s company, there was mostly only one thing on her mind.
“Miles?” Rumpleteazer asked. “What do you suppose the point of having a Name is, anyways?”
Tantomile quirked a brow. “I thought you didn’t like thinking about that.”
“All you’re talkin’ about is makin’ me think about it now!” Rumpleteazer said, throwing her paws in the air. “Am I doing something wrong by not thinkin’ more about it?”
“Of course not,” Tantomile said quickly, sitting up. “I’m sorry, Rumpleteazer. I didn’t mean to burden you with my own troubles.”
Rumpleteazer shook her head. “No, no, you’re not. It’s just...” She rolled onto her belly and kicked her feet in the air. “I dunno. Everybody else thinks it’s a big deal. Like, we have that whole poem about it that we teach to kittens.”
For the first time that day, Tantomile felt Rumpleteazer’s aura sputtering. That wouldn’t do.
“I think that every cat needs to decide for themselves what’s important to them,” Tantomile said. “And if your Name truly isn’t one of those things, then that’s alright. After all, isn’t a part of knowing your Name being true to yourself?”
“You think so?”
Tantomile nodded.
Rumpleteazer hummed. “Is that why you never want to hang out? You just really like bein’ all by your lonesome?”
Tantomile’s tail twitched as she looked away. “Well...I wouldn’t quite say that. It’s more like...” She’d never had to put words to it before. She and Coricopat could always communicate without having to speak, and she rarely confided in anyone else. “There isn’t much of a point to seeking the company of other cats. I already know what will happen if I wish seek the company of another cat. I know what they will say, and what I will say, and so I find it a better use of my time meditate, or look into the future to portent dangers to the tribe. Most of the time, I already know how things will work themselves out, so it just feels like going through the motions.” It was only a little lonely. But it was fine.
“Well that’s awfully boring,” Rumpleteazer growled. Tantomile sensed anger from her, and it took her aback. “And hardly fair, either.”
“It’s useful,” Tantomile argued back. “Thanks to my gift, I know if the tribe will have a hard winter, and how much supplies we’d need to stockpile. I know when danger is near, and whether or not strangers are dangerous.”
“So what?” Rumpleteazer said, fur bristling. The anger wasn’t directed at her, Tantomile sensed, but for her, though she couldn’t quite grasp why. “You never get to have any fun ‘cause you know how it’s all gonna turn out anyways? That’s got to be terrible.”
“I don’t know what will happen all of the time,” Tantomile confessed. “I know what the most likely outcomes will be, and I can pursue different branching paths of the future, but sometimes it’s hard for me to see what the future.” She brushed her tail against Rumpleteazer’s side. “Such as...when I’m with you, for instance.”
Rumpleteazer grinned, and curled her tail around Tantomile’s. “Oh, really?”
Tantomile very nearly jerked away at the intimate touch, but stopped herself. Rumpleteazer’s unashamed boldness in everything she did...she liked it. She didn’t ever know what to expect from her, and kept her on her toes, and she liked that.
So Tantomile just nodded, trying to fight back a blush. “Yes. I’ve never met another cat like you. You don’t worry about what will happen next, you just live in the moment. You don’t think about what’s ahead, so there’s nothing for me to see coming.” Her tail tightened around Rumpleteazer’s. “You’re becoming quite the enigma to me, you know.”
Rumpleteazer leaned in close, and their noses almost brushed together. “The fuck did you just call me?” she whispered.
Tantomile buried her face into Rumpleteazer’s shoulder, collapsing into a fit laughter for the second time that night.
Tantomile liked to ponder over difficult questions and problems; things that her abilities couldn’t give her the answers to.
But she didn’t want to figure out Rumpleteazer, ever.