#lahawol

[aioniopyr]

mhm

[headphonetrash]

Finally resubbed to XIV and missed these little guys, happy belated Valentine's Day from a really really strange wolship trio 💕

[cosmicseashanty]

Happy All Saints' Wake, with love from Pandæmonium 👁️

[pebsterino]

Sketchy painting of Ptah and Lahabrea for @vict0riano Fanfic

:D Here's the link to the fanfic!

[vict0riano]

to these darkened halls

He realizes there’s a hollow trembling inside him where his infected heart used to beat, the stitches that had sewn his self whole together tightening, reminding him of the broken thing he used to be. He looks down at the floor, breathing deeply and allowing himself to… consider. 

Stone covered in thick carpets and fabrics. Soft, durable, dark, they hadn’t been like that before. He used to like blue. The coverlet brushes against the ground, an empty luxury, unshared. He’d never allowed himself much thought. He never allowed himself to remember the way he’d destroyed his—their—bedroom. Shared barely for an instant, he’d turned his rage against the furniture, erasing her memory, erasing her smell and the way she felt against him, disgusted by his own blindness, his naivety. Disgusted by the unfamiliar, weak, all-consuming need. 

Disgusted by her ambition. Disgusted by her disregard. 

He’d shattered the bed with his own hands and never shared it again, kept it empty and unused, forfeiting sleep more often than not, choosing his desk or any concept he could conjure in the ample rooms of his facilities before the comfort of this place. If he had used it at all, he couldn’t remember it. 

Athena had been all consuming. Athena had left an imprint in his soul so deep even after tearing himself apart he could feel the shape of her fingertips. Athena’s touch had branded him so deeply, claiming him so utterly he couldn’t envision the bright sky without bile raising. The crystal floor at the Convocation made him want to reach down his own throat and rip himself apart.

Weak hearted. Weak minded. Powerless. His heart and mind disconnected from her, from their past, but his body? His body, his traitorous flesh, remembers. Lahabrea is but a title, and he’ll never escape the shadow of Hephaistos. The sound of her dainty laugh, the smell of lilies, the warmth and her taste turned sour, repulsive. 

No matter how much of himself he locked away, he can’t refuse his past, can’t erase it, can’t cage it forever and pretend it never existed. Secrets weigh heavily upon the soul and his is weak, torn in two, unable to balance, unable to stop, unable to face the truth and— 

Without his heart, he’s left adrift within the reactions of his body. What once could be navigated, what could have been named and mannered those feelings is gone. He’s not unfeeling, but what connects his mind to his feelings, to his body, is locked away. A piece is gone and what is left instead is chaos.

[la-scree]

Someone asked for LahaWoL and these are the ones that I have...that are safe for work.

[daltheznadofart]

Eileen conversing with Lahabrea about some things.

[darkspacelow]

i'm watching you watch over me...