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*THERE IS A STORY BELOW THE DESCRIPTION*
A silly made by my friend Inkey-Blue .
He had never drawn Ankha prior, as per his admission, and thus did he try his hand for this rather humorous result. Cats gonna cats, as they say.
Yet how did she even get such a seat? Read on and find out!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PROPER THRONE
“A queen, a goddess like me deserves a proper throne, me-meow.”
Ankha had indeed started her reign, the propagation of a video and her hypnosis implanting her will and dominance to her island. A first step towards her obvious supremacy as the Egyptian feline had made it clear that all should look up to her. The town hall had been rearranged as the seat of her power, the museum gaining a permanent wing to her glory and the island renamed Ankhalopolis. None could defy her, all would adore her, as was right.
And yet she knew quite well that such a status deserved a seat in which she could lord over each and everyone, for people to claim audience to. Yet Ankha was picky and certainly held a high opinion of herself; she couldn't just accept anything, no matter how good-willed or precious. Her queenly buttocks deserved nothing but the best and thus did the search for a throne begin.
“Your majesty, your divinity, our light in the darkness...allow me to offer to you this for your gracious posterior,” said Hooters, picking up an ancient throne taken straight from faraway pyramids, from her own culture.
“I think not, me-meow...it's all cracked and dusty, prone to break!”
“Goddess who reigns above us, whose swirly gaze charms and conquer, I have a golden toilet for your usage,” suggested and offered Isabelle, believing that such a gilded and practical tribute would suit her.
“It belongs in the bathroom, not as a throne. Would people respect me were I to seat on this, me-meow?”
“My deity, star in the sky whose brilliance guide us all, I have my most prized couch worth 50 000 Bells...it is your now,” Tom Nook presented, himself never making Ankha pay for what she wanted, yet perhaps a notice of its worth would please her.
“A couch? I am not here to laze around and to lounge without grace in front of my servants, subjects and slaves, me-meow!”
“Permit me to offer myself as your throne, an unending offering to your glory and beauty,” the previous island deputee gave as an answer, the sole human on the island and possibly the most devout, the first one to taste of her hypnosis.
“You would tire after an hour or two, me-meow...and then I would have nowhere to sit!”
Nary an offer seemed to be proper, Ankha's own expectations certainly high as everything had been redecorated, yet what was missing was indeed a proper throne. Hieroglyphs on the wall, a pyramid in each corner, statues of herself bordering a red carpet...and yet no seat worthy of her.
“Uh...got a delivery for a certain...Ankha? Am I reading this right?”
Out of the blue came the mailman, a pelican of no note whose job was delivering packages, parcels, letters and the likes. He flew island by island, town by town and most of the time was he unseen and even unheard. Efficient, yet late on this very day did he enter the town hall, everyone looking at him with a puzzled expression. He himself didn't quite seem to catch on as to what was happening.
“I am Ankha, queen of queens, the light of the day and the mystery of the night, me-meow.”
“Great. Your delivery of tuna cans for the month was delayed. Apologies about that,” Pete said, the pelican's name written on a nametag. He approached her with a box, tape holding it together while he picked up a pen and a board. “Just gonna need your signature, if you please.”
And yet as he presented said delivery did illumination and revelation showcase itself. It was perfect, completely fascinating to Ankha as a servant opened the box. It was spacious, its now-empty inside calling something deep within Ankha, nestled within impulse and instinct. This was the one.
“Of course. Now look into my eyes...Pete from the post office, me-meow~”
Ever agreeable, perhaps naive, he did as she asked and the swirly eyes took him in a short amount of time. The spirals endless, their depth captivating, he soon saw Ankha as his rightful mistress, as his reason to be. He was her servant, a title worth everything, glorious and incredible.
“I name you throne-bringer, Pete from the post office. Bring me more of such and your rewards shall be endless, me-meow!”
Thus did Ankha gain her own throne, an empty carton box in which she sat comfortably, purring subtly. Her innate feline feelings were pleased as whenever the throne began to get damaged from sitting, scratching and biting was it replaced by Pete, one of her most faithful follower. He himself brought her message to other islands, telling of Ankhalopolis and its magnificence...and for all to come see the queen and goddess.
To witness Ankha on her sublime throne.
A silly made by my friend Inkey-Blue .
He had never drawn Ankha prior, as per his admission, and thus did he try his hand for this rather humorous result. Cats gonna cats, as they say.
Yet how did she even get such a seat? Read on and find out!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PROPER THRONE
“A queen, a goddess like me deserves a proper throne, me-meow.”
Ankha had indeed started her reign, the propagation of a video and her hypnosis implanting her will and dominance to her island. A first step towards her obvious supremacy as the Egyptian feline had made it clear that all should look up to her. The town hall had been rearranged as the seat of her power, the museum gaining a permanent wing to her glory and the island renamed Ankhalopolis. None could defy her, all would adore her, as was right.
And yet she knew quite well that such a status deserved a seat in which she could lord over each and everyone, for people to claim audience to. Yet Ankha was picky and certainly held a high opinion of herself; she couldn't just accept anything, no matter how good-willed or precious. Her queenly buttocks deserved nothing but the best and thus did the search for a throne begin.
“Your majesty, your divinity, our light in the darkness...allow me to offer to you this for your gracious posterior,” said Hooters, picking up an ancient throne taken straight from faraway pyramids, from her own culture.
“I think not, me-meow...it's all cracked and dusty, prone to break!”
“Goddess who reigns above us, whose swirly gaze charms and conquer, I have a golden toilet for your usage,” suggested and offered Isabelle, believing that such a gilded and practical tribute would suit her.
“It belongs in the bathroom, not as a throne. Would people respect me were I to seat on this, me-meow?”
“My deity, star in the sky whose brilliance guide us all, I have my most prized couch worth 50 000 Bells...it is your now,” Tom Nook presented, himself never making Ankha pay for what she wanted, yet perhaps a notice of its worth would please her.
“A couch? I am not here to laze around and to lounge without grace in front of my servants, subjects and slaves, me-meow!”
“Permit me to offer myself as your throne, an unending offering to your glory and beauty,” the previous island deputee gave as an answer, the sole human on the island and possibly the most devout, the first one to taste of her hypnosis.
“You would tire after an hour or two, me-meow...and then I would have nowhere to sit!”
Nary an offer seemed to be proper, Ankha's own expectations certainly high as everything had been redecorated, yet what was missing was indeed a proper throne. Hieroglyphs on the wall, a pyramid in each corner, statues of herself bordering a red carpet...and yet no seat worthy of her.
“Uh...got a delivery for a certain...Ankha? Am I reading this right?”
Out of the blue came the mailman, a pelican of no note whose job was delivering packages, parcels, letters and the likes. He flew island by island, town by town and most of the time was he unseen and even unheard. Efficient, yet late on this very day did he enter the town hall, everyone looking at him with a puzzled expression. He himself didn't quite seem to catch on as to what was happening.
“I am Ankha, queen of queens, the light of the day and the mystery of the night, me-meow.”
“Great. Your delivery of tuna cans for the month was delayed. Apologies about that,” Pete said, the pelican's name written on a nametag. He approached her with a box, tape holding it together while he picked up a pen and a board. “Just gonna need your signature, if you please.”
And yet as he presented said delivery did illumination and revelation showcase itself. It was perfect, completely fascinating to Ankha as a servant opened the box. It was spacious, its now-empty inside calling something deep within Ankha, nestled within impulse and instinct. This was the one.
“Of course. Now look into my eyes...Pete from the post office, me-meow~”
Ever agreeable, perhaps naive, he did as she asked and the swirly eyes took him in a short amount of time. The spirals endless, their depth captivating, he soon saw Ankha as his rightful mistress, as his reason to be. He was her servant, a title worth everything, glorious and incredible.
“I name you throne-bringer, Pete from the post office. Bring me more of such and your rewards shall be endless, me-meow!”
Thus did Ankha gain her own throne, an empty carton box in which she sat comfortably, purring subtly. Her innate feline feelings were pleased as whenever the throne began to get damaged from sitting, scratching and biting was it replaced by Pete, one of her most faithful follower. He himself brought her message to other islands, telling of Ankhalopolis and its magnificence...and for all to come see the queen and goddess.
To witness Ankha on her sublime throne.
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fanart
Species Feline (Other)
Size 1920 x 1920px
File Size 1.52 MB
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