"Keep Looking," As If He Could Be Distracted By Any Amount At A Time Like This. Regardless Of What Came

"Get me Augustus' body." It's said without much thought, but neither do her plans grow too bold just yet. With her numbers dwindled - even with the souls of those beyond Rome, Pythia wouldn't strike again without having everything in check - not for the likes of being blinded once more. "Dead or alive." Undoubtedly, the archfiend held some sentimentality towards the former necromancer, but waste not want not. The ties he held were worth splintering in the same ways the Asphodel had been, "And find out where Lucrecia is hiding, I'm not nearly done with her." By choice, or otherwise; Leviathan was the very embodiment of violence; and her wrath would befall all of those who no longer served her purpose. "Kill whoever you have to."

Bastien's birth had only been for the power that his parents could garner, to create a coven where one had not been. He had been taught nothing aside from what he could do for his parents. That is, until Pythia had begun to whisper in his ear. Of the power that he could harness for himself, of the magic that lay dormant within him. It was the greater demon that had guided him to the forest, to the animals within and the visions that he could pull from the hands of the Graeae. And it was since then that his loyalty had been cemented, given over freely and without fault. Even when he had been imprisoned, when he'd been left with nothing but his visions. Even when others had fallen, had felt fear and fled from the ranks of the Asphodel. And even now, as his mind fractured, as a part of it weighed so heavily upon a certain elf, Bastien had remained with Pythia. "Ask of me anything that you wish, it will be yours freely," he affirmed, cementing his loyalty that much further to their cause. To the power that would be Pythia's, and subsequently, his own once a new book had been crafted. Once they had finalized what they had long since been working towards.

camila queiroz via instagram

zoeysalisu​:

who? @fxllenpythia​

where? the streets of rome

when? post plot drop three

notes: the event is over when I say it’s over… and when Zoey dies

“Hey, hey, we have to go, there is more of them coming, it’s not safe.” Zoey has lost Hayliel sometime over the last few hours, and she is terrified. She has been running and hiding since the wedding went down in chaos, since Jamie had given her his blood, and it doesn’t feel like this hell is never going to end. She is turning, moving to run to the next hiding spot, when she sees a stranger standing on the middle of the street. She is rushing at the other’s side without hesitation, a hand on her arm as she pulls. “We have to go.”

Chaos reigns ever supreme, the frenzy of vampires and the wolves that give chase feels like coming home. Levithan. The circle of hell that echoes her name and the screams of all of those that would plunder the world with volatile intention call her home and this realm - that of mortals, begins it’s downfall in such a perfect mirror image she barely notes the human’s within the fold. Let it burn.  Fingers grasp with ripe intent, vice like and though she feels near immediate repulsion from her; Pythia merely stills. Hues that hold little more than oblivion within them relegate the woman - young, naive, with a certain indifference that doesn’t so easily become tainted by disgust. “We do.” She parrots, though the tone of her voice hangs limp, the formerly blank state of her features shifting only barely, the corner of her mouth drawing upwards. “We do have to go.” The warmth of her hands grew as they sought to grasp at the woman’s arm, drawing her in as she all but leered at the fragility within her grasp.  “You first.” It slipped through her teeth, a seething command as thought alone lifted the woman from her feet, casting her feet into the air as the flicker of hellfire blistered the skin of her legs. Just to hear her scream and echo those long forgotten. These streets would see hell - they would know the The wicked and evil images of the home she left behind in hell cast telepathically into the humans mind; cursed to play over and over with every final breath she ever took as darkness turned to shadow, and shadow to ethereal blade before it drew a cavern into the flesh of her throat.  It fell like raindrops; satiating the ground beneath as the dirt swallowed her blood as if it’d been starved for sustenance. As if she’d been starved for sustenance. “You go first.” 

It's nearly impossible to look beyond the irony in what Pluto claims. This, temporary essence he seems to believe she holds. "I have laid witness to every betrayal this realm and all others has had to offer. Fought a war of Old Gods, twice now. Clawed my way out from the inferno, a cage my own father and siblings decreed, only to sit upon a throne revered by demonic forces this world has never seen. You want to talk to me about love and loyalty?" The sound that slips through curling lips is defiant, a haphazard brush-off, his bitterness little more than a childlike tantrum in her eyes. "This world doesn't need to be mine to take." Of course, not all plans would always play out in the way desired, but the archfiend was nothing if not resourceful. "Do you not understand yet, dear pluto? I am violence and that is the only promised thing in this temporary existence you cling to. Your bitterness would be better suited to a toddler." Her laugh is ethereal, tainted with the determination that this set-back would fuel her with. "Suffer the heartbreak, if it were me, you betrayed, your penance would have been far worse. Perhaps Kore's leniancy," if it could truly be called that, "will give you back your bite."

closed starter for @fxllenpythia location: Colosseum

He'd been broken apart by his love, shaped into what felt like an entirely different person. Rome had changed, so did the people within. But even if they did Pluto could be sure of one thing: the Pythia. An everlasting menace, a crownless emperor without their little book. As he stood next to them, the respect he'd harbored for the sovereign had vanished into thin air. Exhausted yet triumphant, he'd somewhat prevailed even though he'd lost Ezekiel and a huge chunk of himself next to the support of so many. A man of eternal solitude, he looked to the other sovereign with both pity and curiosity. "This world isn't yours to take. We're all temporary. Loyalty and love are temporary." He had his hands folded behind his back, his stance somewhat relaxed, "be lucky most don't remember what happened. We'd do better without these memories as well."

serkanxulusoy​:

closed starter for @fxllenpythia​

The last person he had ever thought he would run into was the Pythia. Serkan had been reluctant to even think about the Asphodel. They had been a part of what had happened to him before. The Pythia was the one pulling the strings though. They always had been. He only wished he had been able to have half the mind they had. If only there was something he could do to fix what had been broken. There was no part of him that wished to be a part of that coven of witches and druids and whatever else they welcomed. He would play nice though, if only to stay on their good side. “You’ve got a lot of plans, don’t you?” He didn’t particularly care what they were as long as he was alive at the end of it. Rome could burn down for all he cared.

“Don’t you?” A meandered response that truly held no weight - and yet, one in which she intended to make the former alpha consider. A leader didn’t fall without losing out on a future they’d envisioned. Change was as much a poison as it was the gift of freedom, it simply depended on which vein it fled to first. “Is this what you imagined the future of the Arno pack would be? Barking at the heels of the eye’s bitch boy?” Truly - she hadn’t yet discovered what methods had been used on the Lupo’s newly crowned alpha, but she had no doubt that they’d certainly made some effort to wield him to their own benefit. Whatever seeds of which she could plant; she would. “And an alliance with the fey?” Her tongue clicked against her teeth sharply as she turned a haphazard glance in his direction, “It’s certainly... questionable.”

“The truth is that I’ve cared for this world far longer than anyone else.” After all, she’d been one of the first to take up arms against those that would see the world they now occupied, as belongings to the weakness of human kind. She’d witnessed the destruction they’d wrought upon it as they plundered the precious realm and behaved as if it was there to serve them, and not the stark opposite. “What I don’t care for, is those that have done nothing but tarnish it in every possible way. Human kind, and all that followed, is a blight upon the earth.” It had been created as a paradise, a place that would mimic the divine realm in ways so few could see, and yet it had been left to squander. Their brethren condemned to an eternity of pain and suffering for wanting to protect something so precious. All that they’d been promised, rotting deep into the core of all that it was. “Michael and Uriel, they worship and admonish all others to follow the orders of our father as if that would convey whatever love they might have once felt for him, when in truth, allowing Titania and her barbaric creatures to inherit this earth, was the first act of defiance, not ours. And yet we are marked as the traitors.’

fxllenpythia​:

“I have long since considered what I might do if I ever faced him again, Roth.” For what felt like eons, she’d likely have done anything to draw even a glimpse of Ulthar’s immediate sense of presence but something so personal had long since slipped through her fingers of desire. Instead, the only thing left was to destroy what he loved the most. The realm they currently occupied earning the majority of their fathers love and respect since the day he cast them all aside. Offering the perfect world to those who would do nothing more than pick it apart and taint it to ruin. So, ruin she would give him. “Now, he could stand before me and beg, and I’d want nothing more than to flay him along with the others. If the world we were promised cannot be ours - he can have it returned to him, in dust and ruin.” 

          Uriel had come forward to Roth, pleading of some alliance to defeat Leviathan, to ensure a world he suddenly found so precious could be preserved. The Conquest had always looked upon the mortals with disdain and the Ira’s curiosity had been whetted as to why the sudden change. It was inevitable to grasp upon humanity once immersed in this realm, Roth had done so himself, living a mundane life until the Blessed and Leviathan brought forth the fumes of a war once more, a vicious cycle, but one that was to be expected. “You care for nothing in this world?” It was void of contempt, only that same curiosity they had in lieu of Uriel and Michael, how brothers once carved to be purely a weapon were now brimming with compassion and mercy. Leviathan often seemed to drift mysteriously throughout her actions, allowed her little Coven to stir up most of her ruinous work and they wondered what Leviathan’s idle hands were truly preoccupied with.

bensu soral in tuzak

The sickening metallic scent perforated the air and for a brief moment, Pythia considered mottling the sweetness in the air with an ever burning candle as she watched crimson drip from his fingertips. “Tell me everything.” Fingertips extended as she beckoned him over, knowing all too easily that one touch would show her everything he had seen; the blood of the Dahlia witch clinging to all that he had seen within each and every molecule as it fell between cobbled stone and cracked floors of the temple. “We have to ensure it comes to fruition. The longer we wait, the more we have to lose. It’s only a matter of time before they try to drive us out.”

where. necromanteion who. @fxllenpythia​

The blood of the Dahlia had always been so much sweeter, and it still spilled from the initiate’s throat into the stone of the coven home, further fed to the Necronomicon as Bastien stepped from it to Pythia. While the blood still coated the curve of his fingers, despite how it had been drawn across his tongue, the blade had been discarded beside the body of the witch. He would retrieve it later, clean it of its offering and return it to the holster that would ensure its presence for the next one. “You should have seen it,” he mused, delight etched into every curve and crevice of his features. “The way their precious sanctuary rotted away, the way that they cowered so pathetically,” the words resounded with the pure ecstasy that the vision had brought on, while his fingers twitched with the want to pull another one from the three sisters. 

In the end, nothing mattered to her beyond freeing their brethren from the inferno. Lives lost, of the Asphodel or the Senatre forces would all suit her end goal one way or another, the closer they drew to the apex of everything Leviathan would bring to fruition. The world burned, and soon, the gates would open. The disappointment of those within her ranks who sought the moniker of traitor and deserter left a sliver of hurt resting upon her chest that she'd sooner deal with than linger within. While so many damned her to the inferno all over again for all that suffered under her influence, Pythia was only ever guilty of giving people what they wanted. Untold power, influence - the key to immortality. The price to pay was hefty, and those unable to swallow such a blade were better suited as fodder. A weakness that the coven would never tolerate.

Enfenim's presence doesn't shock her; he has always been mischievous. Nosy, and rather impartial to the thought that his brother's place at her side offered him some leniency. Despite the fact that his soul didn't belong to her, he was one among them all the same. Leviathan didn't need to tether the brothers Elandrin to her. As long as the greater demon sought chaos and death, they'd be there. As if the fiery glow of Necromanteion and the stench of death that bled from the battlefield beyond wasn't proof enough. Words spoken against her ear quiver deeply within the corner of a devilish smirk and hues of obsidian glance up at him as he finds a place by her side, "It feels as though it's about time," it seethes through her teeth, in the same way, hot water soothes aching bones, "No matter what they do, they will always lose." People, stability - alliance. It would all disappear within the ash of all that she'd burn around them. "Does this satisfy some semblance of your own desires? The fairy king is tainted, lied to and become new again. It seems as though Ayi'ig did not know all, before that slaughter."

@fxllenpythia location: Necromanteion notes: he said: you're looking even hotter than usual

The destruction was admirable, truly it was. In a matter of time the Allied Senate Forces would breach the walls and begin to pour into the City, that’s when things would truly get interesting. Fighting from the walls had its perks, but after nine days it was stale, Enfenim generally preferred to manipulate from behind the scenes, contrary to Arakhor who was all merciless killing all the time. He’d projected a portion of his consciousness into the mortal realm and watched how so many of his people had started to fall, their pathetic desperation was going to get them all killed. A waste, a hateful waste, if nothing else the exile preferred to be at their side: killing drow and making sure that the fey of significance lived and the fey that were insignificant… Well, died for something at least. 

An empowered greater demon had no option but to be radiant, malevolence and power rolled off of the fallen angel that Enfenim had always known as Leviathan. The liar with many names and faces, the serpent that could find her way through any defence, any plot. Enfenim found Leviathan in her chambers, overlooking the city, his cold hands brushed against her shoulders as he approached from behind. Beautiful and indomitable, winning was her most attractive quality. “How does it feel to be on the cusp of getting everything you ever wanted?” Enfenim asked against her ear before he moved to stand at her side. Loyal to himself first and Arakhor second, he had his own reasons for standing among the Asphodel. All this death was just a plus.

Alas, Leviathan was only ever where they needed to be at the precise moment necessary, though many could assume it inconvenient, the aspect was forever listening, lying in wait for every opportune moment. As such,, Arakhor's hands warm against her face remained the only thing to somewhat soften features otherwise hardened. However sharp and venomous they remained, slivers of the seraphim - not jaded by betrayal, would always belong to him. "I'd threaten to remove his tongue, but undoubtedly, he'd enjoy it more than I would." She muses, almost entirely to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching to liken a smile, the mild softness she shared with the fey extended so far as to encompass his brother. Her own hand rises, curling around one of Arak's wrists in near comfort, "I thought we'd learned not to allow him so many opportunities to speak." Albeit, amusing, she knew just as well that Enfenim could talk the hooves off of a changeling. "At least you're here now, just in time to see your brethren ally with the Eye of all things," It's almost comical; the threat of the Asphodel would always seemingly force enemies together, but the Eye? The worst of humanity, lording themselves over the creatures they captured - tortured and maimed. It would see more bloodshed, without her ever lifting a finger.

fxllenpythia​:

@arakhor

Another triumph, underlying the return of the fellowship that had set out some time ago. Whispers had sought their way back to her on the wind, through the shadows and in the thick of each soul spilled to the book. Heroes that would stumble upon a broken crown and all the instability that would come with it. It spun its way through her entire being as an ultimate high, she almost missed it. A tremor that worked it’s way into her fingertips and the promise of an oath not sworn in blood or souls, etched within the very celestial bones of what she’d once been, alerted her to something beyond the dissipating stretch of space between her and what she would bring upon this world. Her form filtered into a darkened mist, each speckle of darkness a black hole that emanated how rotten she was to the core, and when her hand slipped over his shoulder, the corporeal form following, she drew him into the heart of the otherworld. The chambers of the Asphodel and the Necronomicon echoing with centuries of silence and distance that never once left a mark upon what existed between them “I knew this lifetime would bring you back to me.”

-

The Soratami had fallen at the hands of Ayi’ig, the drow edged closer and closer to their goal, which did not concern Arakhor, though the fall of his race wasn’t exactly his and his brother’s dream. The eladrin within Rome had suffered another loss, each moment they remained in the mortal realm, they were further and further away from their chance at survival. Many fey wandered the Otherworld still, but they, too, fell victim. Once the blood of the firsts, the beings that could do anything if their song and ability willed it, were now reduced to a handful of Chancellors who had done nothing but hope someone else would step up so they wouldn’t have to. Either way, darkness ran in his blood, it was there since he’d attacked Titania’s warder, since he’d watched the queen banish them instead of kill them – she was weak, unable to strike those down who struck against her. Now, he was free. Free to power his magic with blood, free to find himself in the arms of Leviathan, of the one who had found him. 

“You always seem to disappear when everyone is looking for you,” he joked, recognizing the soul in front of him. Leviathan’s form had changed over the years, they’d picked a feminine one this time, and Arakhor grinned as he took her face in his hands, “We were a bit delayed. You know my brother likes to hear himself talk, so we took the long way to Rome.”