Open to Join Shiny and Stone (13TL20)

Heir to the Black Prince

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Ahryndae strode through the sun-dappled path leading to the cemetery, her movements fluid and deliberate, like a shadow come to life. The sun warmed her dark coat, the subtle pattern of her rosettes catching the light as she approached the ancient churchyard.

As she neared the cemetery, her golden eyes caught sight of movement - a cat lounging on a stone bench, bathed in the sunlight. The marbled tabby was a picture of ease, their voice carried by the wind as they purred in delight. Ahryndae paused, her keen gaze assessing the scene before her.

What a lovely day, indeed, she thought with a slight smirk, the words of the stranger echoing in her mind. Yet there was something about the carefree nature of this cat that rubbed her the wrong way - a sense of freedom, unburdened by the weight of nobility, that felt almost insulting in its simplicity.

With a subtle flick of her tail, Ahryndae approached, her posture implying something of importance. She stopped a few paces away, her head held high, the sunlight catching the golden hues of her eyes as she regarded the lounging stranger.

"Enjoying yourself, I see." She remarked, her voice smooth, with a touch of icy politeness. "One might think you have no responsibilities to attend to."

She allowed a moment for the words to settle, a calculated pause to gauge the reaction of the cat before her. Ahryndae was curious - who was this cat, so untroubled by the world, and what were they doing in a place so silent?

Heir to the Black Prince

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Ahryndae watched the marbled tabby with a careful, measured gaze as they straightened into a more dignified posture, their smooth response betraying no hint of discomfort. There was a calm, unflustered ease about them that intrigued and irked her in equal measure.

"Perhaps one might." Ahryndae replied, her tone cool yet laced with an undercurrent of amusement. "But I prefer to ensure that others are fulfilling their roles before I take my rest. After all, a day is a gift only when well-earned."

As Morgan complimented her fur, Ahryndae inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the sincerity with a glimmer of approval in her eyes. She was accustomed to such praise, but the way it was delivered - bright, almost playful. "Thank you." she responded, her voice softening just a touch. "Your own coat is quite striking, glittering in the sunlight as it does."

At their question about her preference for night, Ahryndae’s smile widened ever so slightly, a gleam of something more predatory entering her gaze. "Night has its charms." She admitted, her voice toying with a hint of mystery. "There is a certain… intimacy to the darkness, wouldn’t you agree?"

She took a measured step closer, her movements deliberate, as if to test the waters of this new acquaintance. "But tell me." She mewed, her tone almost conspiratorial. "Do you live here, or are you merely a visitor this day? Surely there are other pleasures to be found elsewhere?" There was more to this cat than met the eye, and she intended to discover exactly what that was.

Heir to the Black Prince

⤟ ♢ ✦ ♢ ⭒ ♕ ⭒ ♢ ✦ ♢ ⤠

Ahryndae observed the subtle shift in Morgan’s demeanor, noting the way they restrained their pleasure at the compliment. A cat who knows the value of appearances, she thought, her own satisfaction kept neatly veiled beneath her calm exterior.

As they answered her question with that playful tone, her golden eyes flickered with interest. Morgan was not easily pinned down, and their ambiguous reply only fueled her curiosity. There was a game here, one she was more than willing to play.

“How delightful.” Ahryndae murmured, her voice smooth as silk. “You’ve managed to say so much while revealing so little. A skill worth admiring.”

Her gaze swept over the cemetery, taking in the quiet stones and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. “As for me.” she began, her tone carrying a subtle weight. “I find the solitude of such places… pleasant. They remind me of the fleeting nature of our lives and the importance of leaving something worth remembering.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, before she neared one of the stones, sniffing at it once or twice before her lean muscles moved to to leap onto the curved stone top where she sat contemplatively. “And you. Do you believe in leaving a mark? Or do you prefer to drift through life, savoring the experiences as they come without concern for what lingers after?”

Heir to the Black Prince

⤟ ♢ ✦ ♢ ⭒ ♕ ⭒ ♢ ✦ ♢ ⤠

Ahryndae listened intently, her golden eyes never leaving Morgan’s as they spoke. Their words, layered with meaning, resonated with a truth she couldn’t easily dismiss. This cousin of hers, though unknown even now, possessed a depth and understanding she hadn’t expected. A worthy match, she mused, her curiosity piqued further by their philosophy.

She, too, understood the power of memory, of the imprints left behind, but she also believed in the deliberate crafting of one’s legacy - a legacy that would endure not by chance but by design.

A slow, appreciative smile curled her lips as she regarded Morgan. “Your words carry wisdom I wouldn't expect from an afternoon stroll.” She acknowledged, her tone warmer, yet still tinged with the careful control that defined her. “Indeed, we do leave marks with every step we take, every word we utter. But tell me,” She continued, her voice softening into something more contemplative. “Are they enough?”

Her gaze shifted to the stone bench beneath her, tracing its weathered surface with a light touch of her paw. “This place, these stones… they hold memories, yes. But memories fade, and even the strongest stones eventually crumble. Even kingdoms.”

Her eyes returned to Morgan, sharp and discerning. Ahryndae was a cat who believed in shaping her destiny, in bending the world to her will. But perhaps there was something to learn from one who saw value in both permanence and the ephemeral. The black princess leaned slightly forward, her posture one of poised anticipation. "I believe introductions are in order. I am Princess Ahryndae, first-born daughter of Princess Aoife and Prince Cearnaigh, who was begot by Queen Valiant and King Pendragon of Camelot. In this way, and more, I hope never to be forgotten."

Heir to the Black Prince

⤟ ♢ ✦ ♢ ⭒ ♕ ⭒ ♢ ✦ ♢ ⤠

Ahryndae observed Morgan’s response with a calculating gaze, noting the subtle shifts in their expression and posture. The mention of her family’s names brought a faint smirk to her lips, one that danced on the edge of pride and amusement. “ 'Splendid'. You think so?” She mused, her voice lilting with a mix of reverence and perhaps a flair of dramatics as she was so accustomed to. She angled a paw towards her chest.

“Names can hold power, can't they? They carry weight, expectation, legacy… and sometimes, they even shape the destiny of the one who bears them.”

She allowed a pause, letting the gravity of her words settle between them. “For example. Ahryndae.” She blinked at the glittering she-cat, her tone softening as if she were revealing a cherished secret. “It means ‘Little Winter', of life that endures despite the severe cold .” Her golden eyes gleamed as she tilted her head, gauging Morgan’s reaction. Her tail curled behind her as she settled more comfortably on the stone.

“As for the others..." Her voice now carried a hint of fondness. “Cearnaigh, my father. 'Victorious'… his name speaks of kings, of warriors born under the oak. My mother, Aoife, ever as 'Radiant' in life as she was in death. And my brother, Aodhan… his name means ‘Little Fire,’ a spark that can grow into something unstoppable, should it be encouraged.”

Ahryndae’s gaze lowered steadily towards the ground as she reminisced about those who were not with her today, but with her all the same, eyes half lidding underneath the stark sunlight.