trying on a metaphor
blake kathryn
DEAR READER
Three Goblin Art
if i look back, i am lost
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Janaina Medeiros
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Xuebing Du
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@hemoarchy
⌜RULE OF BLOOD.⌟
HEMOARCHY. independent, 18+, mutuals-only and canon divergent blood-queen lana'thel from world of warcraft. personals please do not reblog my posts!
lovingly cared for by mel (27, she/her). sideblog to @thasdorah
other blogs: lor'themar / nalice / tyrande / sindragosa / koltira / tiffin / kelantir / sally
» carrd.
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it's maddening because its a reminder of what she loved and lost and her previous life and what thalorien fought for and what she fought for and of course it drives her a little insane to confront those feelings she's not entirely free of with who she embraced being as the blood queen. she's not a rebellious figure. she embraced her role. she doesn't mourn her past life. so of course she is Haunted by the before instead of by what she became. there's a deep disconnect between not mourning that life or who she was and being unable to not mourn thalorien.
thal'ena doesn't have the same effect because she made thal'ena part of this (un)life. what attachment remains is not at odds with what she is because thal'ena is hers, even in undeath. but thalorien died fighting for quel'thalas and she died carrying on that same fight and there's no turning that into something that fits with what she embraced being because The Blood Queen is what their enemies were. she became the monster. of course she can't think about thalorien without being filled with Feelings. of course she just wants to make it stop.
Queen Lana’thel eagerly carried out her new duties, but every time she looked at her blade, maddening anger would swell within her as she remembered her former life. She could not afford such distractions, and with a scream that echoed throughout Icecrown, she shattered Quel’Delar and flung the fractured pieces as far as she could.
drama queen we love to see it
#'maddening anger at remembering her former life' she loved thalorien dawnseeker so much actually #also her attachment to thal'ena doesnt drive her to insanity like this bc thal is with them #she's not part of her past life she's part of her current life #don't question the logic #the logic is she cares as much as it's possible to care while under the lich king and unwilling to break free #anyway
thalorien being thal'ena's dad was actually so inspired of me. very obvious idea but also makes so much sense
i considered picking up delilah briarwood as a muse recently and looking through this blog i'm just. 'ah. yes. i see'
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the sixth love language is murder
@hemoarchy continued from here.
The mistake is his own, really.
Deep in his marrow generates forever the instincts of a knight, crawling forth to twitch at his knees and drag his chin down in deference. Servant before master, convict at the gallows --- was there much a difference for them, for here? Your Majesty blooms in his lungs, black petals fat with poisonous earnestness. Caught in the consideration of San’layn royalty once more, he could have never left New Avalon at all. There is an armada burning at his back, and Zoen is not celebrating as much as she should. The Lich King wishes to speak with her.
Her cheek aches. Zoen sinks into the pain, mouth curling into a contemptuous sneer. Irritation ( petulance ) razes him clean. He is Ebon Blade once more.
“ Bound by blood, are we? I’m sure old Terenas would be glad to hear that --- by the by, have you any kin left in Quel’Thalas whom I oughta be sending updates to? Parents of your own? ”
( A genuine offer. It’ll kill you later how genuine it is. )
What else had he expected of the answer? They were all of them maws snapping up whatever fit between their jaws. He couldn’t truly have expected better of the mosquito queen herself. A hand rises to scrape through his wintry hair, claws twining briefly through the pale locks to crush frustration against.
That damned smile on Lana’thel’s face doesn’t help matters at all. Zoen feels it like a maggot, burrowing beneath her cadaver skin in search of some morsel untouched by frost. It worms its way into the soft black soil of his lungs, and makes a meal of the rot within.
She wonders, with a brief sharp twist of a knife, where Jaina is.
NEVER SO CRUEL, NEVER SO UNCARING --- The admissions rattle those thoughts out of her head. Zoen barely comprehends the words. Was this their unique hypocrisy? ( This is a royal court after all. ) “ Who do you love? ” the Archlich scarred onto her Highlord’s soul, and yet here in the frozen heart itself thrives a mother whose heart bleeds and bleeds. An allowance afforded the San’layn, some quirk born of their warm sanguine diet, or … or something …
“ --- as you are his. ”
… Regardless.
It pissed him off.
“ Well. Maybe you’ll show a li’l more grace than he had, when she turns her teeth on you. ”
Irritation. ( Petulance. ) She fills her maw to the brim, and lets it dribble messily down her high held chin.
There is mirth in considerate gaze, in how smile becomes a smirk. The raging against the chains amuses her greatly, silly effort that it is. The Ebon Blade may have rebelled enough to get some leeway, but sooner or later that leash will be shortened again, and their master will reign in his stubborn sons. His will is absolute, the struggle utterly pointless; one could not hope to win against a wintry storm. There is no victory to be had against nature.
And why do you believe he had to be the one to trespass father's heart with his sword? Blood binds, liking it or not; the assumption such bond demanded anything positive is one the young prince makes of his own volition. Lana'thel does not see it fit to correct her; the young ones need their steps in false to learn the right path. He wouldn't heed her, either way.
"There is nothing left for me in Quel'thalas," she answers simply. Honest, still; there is no reason to lie. Everything she loved was long lost; her heart was left behind in the land of her birth, even before Frostmourne led her to the grave. There is no heart left anymore to care for parents, were they still alive at all. Thal'ena is the only family she still possesses, and the care shown to her daughter was no less bloody. Nothing would survive the cold of eternal winter. Is it not a kindness, to make her daughter cold before allowing her to truly feel the bite of winter's wrath?
(What tales she may spin, Lana'thel never forgets her face in those last few moments. Thal'ena had not seen a mother, she had seen a monster.)
Was there ever a different path for motherhood, when the birthing bed was such a visceral place on its own? It matters little. All that matters is what is, the tangible of it. Mayhap Thal'ena would yet turn against her, some of the disappointed and frightened thing she had been when last her heart beat still lingering despite the change. Lana'thel wonders what would be done, then. Would a permanent mark be enough answer? Would death?
"A delusional suggestion, princeling. We are — all of us — his creatures." Even you, resentful of it as you may be; specially you, perhaps. The words need not be said: they are evident in her eyes, calm in contemplating the younger one. The provocation does little to irate her. There was but one thing capable of eliciting that particularly pesky emotion, and Lana'thel had done away with it already. "My lord was exceedingly graceful to you, child. He gave you the opportunity to learn, even if you seem averse to taking it, and left you with the reminder, that the same mistake may not be made a second time."
"If Thal'ena were to turn her teeth on me, she would deserve no more grace than that. It falls to the parents to teach their children better — including the harsh lessons."
this one article about transcendental horror explains a lot of how i see lana'thel's arc actually?
Not all horror stories work that way. In some, the protagonist does not escape from or kill the beast, but nor is she simply killed in turn. In these stories, the protagonist enters into a state of communion with the very horror that has spent the rest of the movie threatening her life and her sanity. The process may be voluntary or not. The embrace of the evil may be gleeful or reluctant, and the outcome may be triumphant or tragic. But in the end, the dangerous, deranging, demonic forces at work are greeted not as destroyers, but as liberators, freeing the human protagonist from his human concerns once and for all, the life he once led forgotten in favor of a supernatural, superhuman new state of existence.
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monstrousness affords the afflicted with a shot at immortality or superhumanity, whether or not the characters are able to take full advantage.
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Because what the narrative offers us is not all that different from what stories of martyrdom, [...] We want to believe that there is virtue in suffering, that pain and has some kind of up side, that whether alive or dead we can reap some kind of benefit from pain, humiliation, torment, torture.
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Yet on the other side of all this, they see things other humans can’t, and they achieve a power the normal world cannot offer them or abide at all. If you were within reach of something that made every awful thing you’ve been through worthwhile, wouldn’t you reach out and touch it?
“ i’m with you. always. no matter what happens, i will be right by your side. do you understand? ” / from thalorien :’)
always accepting memes !
— @throned
There is something wrong in them, for that devotion to linger even now.
In a past life, they had been two of Quel'thalas' most staunch defenders. Was their blood, spilled in its defense, not proof of it? There is no greater seal of one's devotion. What can one give that is of more value than life itself?
It all seems so meaningless when one's heart stops beating.
Whatever they had been in life, those people are long dead (a memory comes to her: Thal'ena, when first brought to Icecrown; the spite in her eyes at what she had found, the horror when she realized her life was not worth as much to Lana'thel as her death, as being made to stay — their daughter had seen a monster, not a mother, and perhaps she had been right; why bother with the distinction?). The Blood-Queen had not hesitated to leave behind life and its struggles, easily accepting her role in the Lich King's domain. It was an inevitable path, with no other end to be found.
The Lich King leaves little room in his subjects for trifling, unnecessary things such as love. Lana'thel does not question, truly, not once resenting the chains that freed them. That they remained together is enough. Yet the feeling, unfitting as it is, never leaves her, not when it comes to him; she would have died for her beloved before she would have died for Quel'thalas. More meaningful that she would kill for him without hesitation — drown the so-called heroes in their own blood, paint the walls crimson, make a river of their life's essence.
Her loyalty to the Lich King is beyond question, her soul claimed long ago; her heart remained with Thalorien, though. That had never changed.
What shadow of uncertainty he may have seen in her to offer reassurance, Lana'thel dispels with a smile. They had thought themselves heroes too, once, and foolishly believed they could come out of confrontation victorious. Those who come to Icecrown now are no different, and will meet an even harsher end. They would see to it together, as always.
A hand cups the side of his face, thumb caressing his cheek softly. "I understand," she replies simply, with a serenity that isn't at all feigned. There is neither fear nor nervousness on the eve of battle in undeath; but then again, she had always found comfort in the thought whatever happened, they would be together (if the words rattle something deep within, disturb the bones of who the Blood-Queen had once been, echo of similar promise made when their hearts still beat and she feared the moment when they may stop, Lana'thel shuts down the feeling before it has the chance to bloom; if she still possessed the weak heart of the living, she may have shed tears at the thought — be careful what you wish for — but the san'layn had no tears left to weep for a long time now). "We will be together, no matter what comes. They will not stand a chance."
I think every day about lana'thel weeping for her people knowing they'd die in the journey to northrend (without knowing she'd be the cause of many more deaths)
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I hate this. I hate you. I'm taking a nap again.
hate me as much as you want but take a bath before you go take a nap
>:( what sort of snackies do you have.
today we have elves of various types, humans and orcs, with the optional cultist or mage flavors but if you want anything else it can most certainly be arranged c:
I hate this. I hate you. I'm taking a nap again.
hate me as much as you want but take a bath before you go take a nap
>:( No.
at least brush your hair. change into something clean? it's been months
I DON'T WANNA AND YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME.
please for all that is unholy just take a bath.
undeath is no excuse to not take a bath*
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I hope that wasn’t too much trouble, Sylas. Delilah, my dear, it was nothing.
Queen Lana’thel eagerly carried out her new duties, but every time she looked at her blade, maddening anger would swell within her as she remembered her former life. She could not afford such distractions, and with a scream that echoed throughout Icecrown, she shattered Quel’Delar and flung the fractured pieces as far as she could.
drama queen we love to see it
