Arsynia,
Lioness of Prideless
Played by dusk
I fear no King. I fear no God.

The thrumming lull of the catacombs might have been more alluring had this place not been so plunged into darkness and staleness. Arsynia had reconsidered entering the caves at all, but little did she want to leave any part of Aesseldar untouched, any stone unturned. Light flitted in through the small gaps in the ceiling, ancient stalactites dripping water from their spindling fingers that reach down from the ceiling, some so large they'd begun to brush and crawl along the ground. An illuminated river carved a pathway through the winding caverns, algae clumped along its shores in a soft blueish-green glow, outshined by the blistering sun that so desperately crawled in through the cracks along the ceiling like a silvery vein. The soft echo of footfalls and the claws that clicked against the stone underfoot accompanied her easy pace, aligning with the melodic drip, drip, drip and the gentle swish of blind trout that fought the swift current of the river.

Eventually, Arsynia found a drier place; a small rocky outcropping just above her head, sheltered from the river water and the wet stalactites. A swift and powerful jump cleared the height, and upon her arrival stirred the ancient dust and creeping cave crickets. The enjoyment of the cave's solitude was not lost on her, but beyond the openness and gentle, dim light, there was little that settled Arsynia in this place. No—rather, her unease was evident in the swift rise and fall of her flank with each hastened breath, and the vexatious twitch of her tail against the rocky slab she lay upon.

Art by Argent