#sasha wolfhart

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St. Zacharias

Sasha had a lot of names in his life, few of them self-chosen. Growing up the son of a choleric miller and a traveller mother who seemingly abandoned him, he was looked upon with suspicion from an early age. He distinguished himself by being a brilliant strategist, ruthlessly efficient with zero patience for political asskissing and very comfortable with using his wolf-given abilities for violence. The Mad Mutt was one of the nicer names. If he had died a glorious death in the name of Christendom, he may just have been granted sainthood, like so many others with a questionable past. Except Sasha was just a bit too cynical to die a martyr. Having a good name after your death didn’t help you a whole lot if you died miserably, after all.

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Afraid. They were afraid, all in their own ways.

Pawel (later Attila) has just been moved into a monastery to begin his training as a novice. He doesn't know anyone, barely knows why he's there. He's hungry and sore from a beating.

Matthis (Milo) is one missed meal away from running away, because he knew his family did not have the means to feed everyone and he was the most disposable. He wonders what's scarier - starving here, or on the road. He'll find out soon.

Zacharias (Sasha) is hiding from his father, as he often did. He's done his work, as best he could with an injured arm, but his father usually found things to be angry about anyway. Zacharias wonders where his mother is, and why she's not protecting him. It would take a few more years for him to finally realize.

Josef (Eike) watches the parade with his parents and the rhythmic bangs of military boots make him nauseous. He knows little of politics, but he knows his mother cried when the election results were announced, and that father had spoken about leaving the country. The year is 1933.

What was your OC like when they were seven (7) years old?

(This prompt brought to you by Tumblr letting me know this blog turned seven today.)

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I’m about a month late but I couldn’t get this out of my head. Let’s ignore that Sasha is terrified of water and Milo gets seasick, that’s different universe.

Attila is a Coelacanth, because he’s the embodiment of „wait, you’re still alive???“

Sasha is a Sturgeon – not very flashy, but nothing to underestimate.

Milo is a Lionfish, attention–grabbing and dangerous.

Eike is a Rainbow fish because he’s cute and people don’t think he’s up to much but keeps the place together.

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Forget character playlists, some bands just read minds now

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Stop me from drawing Sasha and Milo as knights, you can’t

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POV You’re at a ball and find yourself being judged

Details under the cut

This was supposed to be a doodle but I’m the worlds slowest artist oop

Designing these outfits was fun! By that point in time, Sasha and Milo have made a name and quite a bit of money for themselves, which they have to show off at social functions along with their allegiance to the Army of the Night (crusader cross + moon). Gold instead of silver, for obvious reasons.

Are they judging your life choices? Looking for a flirt (or more)? Sizing you up as a meal? Probably all three. Watch out.

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Animation test on the grumpy wolf man

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Zacharias didn’t have a good or easy life, not before he was turned and not after. But there was peace, too, quiet moments with his brother, just riding, not having to pretend anything. Well, quiet in the figurative sense. Zacharias wasn’t sure his brother knew what shutting up meant. But as long as Matthis talked, Zacharias didn’t have to. Zacharias didn’t like talking very much, so things worked out in their own way. It was never an easy life, but sometimes, it wasn’t so bad.

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Neither of the white-clad individuals outside of his cell paid him any attention. Sasha sighed and turned on his back, flicking the knife - barely a toothpick, really - between his fingers. Not that putting it away would make his wardens any more relaxed. They reeked of fear, even as they exited whatever room lay in front of this cell.

Oh well. As far as imprisonment went, this was definitely not the worst. The bed was comfy, with actual sheets, and the room was warm and reasonably clean, if a little bare. The shackles around his ankles weren't particularly pleasant, but they were made of steel, not silver.

Could he shift to get out of the chains? Probably. But they weren't so uncomfortable it was worth the hassle. He wouldn't be here for long.

The electric lights gave no indication of time passed, but it was enough to doze a little and give his battered body some well-needed rest. It didn't get rid of the headache, unfortunately.

If it was a new day, the two - scientists? Was that what they were? - had not changed into new clothes. The woman barely even showed her fear when she stepped into the cell. She winced as it slammed shut behind her.

"You gonna keep standing there like a lost package?"

She jumped, eyes flitting over the chains. "Right. Subject 2694, I would like to ask some questions."

"Subject, huh? Is that your way of ignoring that I'm a person? One you happen to hold on no legal basis whatsoever."

She frowned at him. "You're a werewolf, and judging from your physiology and age have been for a long time."

"And?"

The answer seemed to throw her off. "Uh. Werewolves aren't people." The sentence ended with an implied question mark. "Why would you consider yourself one?"

"You're aware you just sound really racist right now right? And ableist but that's not news."

The scientist sputtered in clear outrage.

"Don't listen to it," a male voice crackled through the speakers. "It's trying to throw you off. Just do your job."

Sasha flicked the knife right into the speaker. He didn't hit dead center due to his position but it still produced some lovely sparks and made the invisible man at the microphone swear.

"Just ask your questions, Lady. I don't have all day."

"What, you got any appointments?"

Sasha finally sat up, crossing his legs as best he could. "We'll see about that." He watched her look back and forth between him and her clipboard, as if a flimsy piece of plastic would protect her.

"You seem awfully worried considering I'm the one in chains here. I won't bite." He gave her a humorless smile. "Provided you don't try to touch me. But you seem too smart for that."

"We should have put the shock collar on," the man's voice came from somewhere in the other room. The speaker inside the cell only gave a sad little crackle.

The female scientist physically shook off her inertia. "Alright, so Mr. Not-long-here, what's your name then? You got a passport? ID card?"

"Sasha Wolfhart."

"Creative," the scientist muttered.

"I'm a Sagittarius and I love walks at the beach. How about you?"

She stared at him, pen stilling mid-word.

Sasha suppressed a smirk. It was so easy to get to her. She hadn't even gotten to whatever she was meant to ask, and already she was doubting herself and her purpose. Hell, maybe they SHOULD have used a shock collar. He wasn't used to jailers not threatening torture at the first sarcastic reply. Sasha considered sarcasm his primary personality trait.

He also guessed the man liked seeing his colleague flounder. He seemed the type.

"Alright," she said, again. "Mr. Wolfhart. We apprehended you-"

"You kidnapped me from an ambulance," he corrected. "Don't pretend I did something to end up here."

"You were brought here because you're not human. I don't need to point out you have claws, do I now?"

"An astute observation, Dr. Holmes."

"Who turned you, and how long have you been a werewolf?"

"His name was Attila, and that must have been, huh, a few centuries back. I lost track at some point."

"Motherf-" She slammed the clipboard down and hammered on the door. "Alright, let me out of here, this isn't working."

Silence.

She knocked again, louder. "Stuart!"

Still nothing.

She looked at her watch. "You have GOT to be kidding, that piece of sh-" She kicked the door so hard it rang. "That asshole went on lunch break and left me in a cell with a BLOODY WEREWOLF!"

"I guess he doesn't like you too much, then?"

She spun, tripping and stumbling back against the door. "Well, I wouldn't have to work with him much longer, but you just HAD to be a smartass. Now my supervisor is never gonna-" She let out a shriek of pure fury and tossed the clipboard against the wall where it bounced off in an impressive arc. Her rage seemingly depleted, she dropped to the floor and leaned against the closed door.

"What the society for imprisoning innocent people doesn't treat you fairly? I wouldn't have guessed."

"Oh fuck off," she snapped. "You could maul me a little before he comes back, maybe that could get him in trouble."

Sasha couldn't hold in a snort. "I'd rather have a sandwich but thanks for the offer."

She dropped her head back against the doors. "I'm writing my thesis on lycanthrope danger to human society, but it's not like there's much data to go off of. We were lucky the paramedic called you in."

"How often do they break confidentiality to gossip about patients with disabilities?"

She sighed. "You're really good at that activist talk, I'll give you that. Still, a monster is a monster."

"So I've heard."

"What was he like?"

"Who?"

"Attila. My father wrote his PhD about the Hunnic Empire. Must have been a wild time."

"....I don't follow."

She met his gaze. "Attila the Hun? The man who turned you?"

Sasha had enough of sitting on the bed. Though the pain was nauseating, he shifted his feet just enough to slip out of the shackles. Being able to stretch was wonderful, especially after the crash had left him with a pounding headache.

The scientist stared at him with her mouth hanging open. "You can DO THAT?!" Swearing, she scrambled to her feet and began banging on the door. "Stuart? Anyone? Get me out of here!"

"I'm not planning to harm you," Sasha assured her. The noise was bringing the headache back. Ugh.

Seeing no sense in making dents in the door, the scientist kept her back flush against it, observing Sasha as took some steps around the room.

"And to answer your question, I'm not that old. I'd look pretty good for that age otherwise."

Her eyes followed him with every single movement, though she herself stayed perfectly still. Desperately hiding in the shadows like a prey animal.

"I assumed - you're an eldritch type werewolf, there's no accounts of them further south than the Balkans."

"See, now you sound racist again. I'm Romani. A gypsy, if you will. And I was born in Germany, so your little map doesn't get scrambled." Seeing her flinch at the word was strangely satisfying. It had been used to hurt him for too long. Time to turn the tables.

And the tables had turned far, because he could see the other scientist approaching with barely hidden panic in his features.

Sasha returned his attention to the woman at the door. "I'll give you a piece of advice. Don't make assumptions. You never know what you're missing."

"What the-"

She stumbled aside when the locks rattled. Otherwise the door may have slammed her into the wall.

"What's going on?" She asked.

Sasha stepped out of the cell. It was hard not to smirk openly at his jailer's confusion and outrage. Would be a bad look in front of the cops.

"Sigrid, this is Anette Eriksson, Mr. Wolfgang's lawyer."

"Wolfhardt," Annette corrected coolly. If she had hurried to come here, it didn't show in her appearance. The police officers behind her looked around curiously. If the smell was to be believed, they weren't alone.

"Unless you can prove you are a licensed human medical facility I would love to know how my client ended up being brought here against his will and-" She paused, her eyes flickering over the cell. "Chained to the bed instead of receiving medical care."

"I think we need to take this down to the station," one of the policemen said. He picked up his radio. The burst of static made Sasha's ears ring. "Three-one, we found the missing person. Suspected case fifty."

As if on cue, the two scientists began to sputter in sync, trying to defend themselves as more police poured into the room with cameras and forensic equipment.

"You okay?", Annette asked quietly.

"As far as prisons go, I've had worse. Thank you for coming so quickly." He winced as someone pushed open a door that sounded like a dying meerkat.

"Do I get my shoes back now?"

Writing prompt

"You left the prisoner a KNIFE?!?"

"It's a werewolf I'm pretty sure the knife is the least dangerous part about it!"

"I'd appreciate not being called it. I have a name."

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Milo: You know, technically we're GMOs

Sasha: ....

Attila, from the other room: Milo, what the FUCK

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The boys went to Las Vegas (Their alpha is gonna be pissed)

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Attila: I love you.

Sasha , not paying attention: What was that?

Attila: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

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Nils: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.

Sasha : If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

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Werewolf Grandpa learned what TikTok is

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Eldritch werewolves sometimes receive "gifts" after being turned - typically any minor arcane ability they had beforehand is amplified. It's usually fairly mild, sensing energy, creating illusions, weak healing powers, all the good stuff.

Sasha on the other hand is so utterly convinced that he has no powers that he actually negates other people's gifts to a certain degree. He doesn't know. Attila decides that's better for everyone.

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A young knight

This is a redraw of one of the first artworks I ever made, when I was still learning to work a drawing tablet. Sasha’s design has changed a LOT since then, but I decided to keep the base clothing design (without actually being too accurate to any medieval clothing era lmao). This is after losing Cornelius (as indicated by the scarring on his face) but before the end of the crusades and leaving the Army. I’ll stop staring at this now before I start to hate it.