War Hound

My father was a king and the son of kings.

The night he was born, a great fire engulfed the endless plains and forests. tongues of flame licked the banks of the cold mountain river, entangled by the evening coolness, they stretched to the other side dreaming of tasting, singeing the tips of the wool of the newborn heir of the pack. Slightly ashy, but still virgin, the tips of the ears droop as the fangs of the she-wolf clench at his withers. He will remember her grip for life and this is the only memory of herself that she will leave him. Scars on the face give phantom pain even after many years. But there is another pain. Pleasant, evocative. He proudly carries it with him through all these years. This pain reminds him of home, helping him move on.

• 29/06/2023 He ran out of slots for the first time


• 09/07/2023 He ran out of slots for the second time


• 15/07/2023 He ran out of slots for the third time


• 22/07/2023 He ran out of slots for the fourth time


• So, basically, he's sold out every week after the 4th one. I'm just REALLY tired to mention it EVERY time. XOXO


• Ptolemaea - Ethel Cain


• Sleep Token - The Apparition