Open to Join In the Living Day (8MW21)

A little bit of elegance never goes out of style
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Monty was no stranger to wandering. His paws had carried him from one end of Whitehart to the other, over rooftops slick with morning frost, and now - here. A place of quiet. Of stone and silence.

The graveyard was a peculiar sight, nothing like the grand estates or lively streets he had known. It smelled of damp earth, old wood, and something faintly metallic.The golden brown tabby padded lightly through the frost tinged grass, his sharp amber eyes scanning the rows of stone markers. A caretaker’s shed stood nearby, modest and unassuming, and beside it Monty’s gaze caught on a flash of silver threaded fabric glinting in the weak afternoon sun.

Perched atop a wooden shelter was another cat. Their fur, marbled in hues of cream and chocolate, shimmered where the sun struck them, but what held Monty’s attention was the cloak they wore. A deep, rich fabric embroidered with phases of the moon.

Monty, ever the gentleman, approached with measured steps, his tail flicking in curiosity. He stopped just short of the little structure, tilting his head with an easy smile.

"Well now." He drawled, his voice a smooth rumble. "A fine afternoon for a rest, wouldn’t you say, Madam?" His gaze flicked from the cloak to the cat within it, intrigue glinting in his eyes. "And here I thought I had seen all the finery Whitehart had to offer. Tell me, stranger...are you a guest of this place, or merely its most esteemed ghost?"