@sacrilcgiovs​ Location: We’re Out And About Okay 

Flame, licked at every crevice of the prison. Taunting in nature, it would burn none, other than those that tried to escape. A foolish venture that very few attempted to stomach. Despite it, a chill swept across the floor of stone and bones of those long dead. Disappointment was something Pythia had known since the war of the Old Gods had ended. It ran rampant among all those she knew, a flaw that couldn't be stripped of any who carried it within the breadth of their spineless forms. When it first begun to show in one of her most loyal - a man present when the asphodel first formed and invocated Pythia from the inferno in the first, she was surprised that he'd fall so far. "Of all the fools to walk into hell," she laughed, a lowly sound that sounded within the rumble of the Necronomanteion as if the kingdom itself breathed with her. "I have never known someone so stupid, Kaan Narcissus. How does it feel, to know you've led your entire coven into the arms of certain death?"

where. blood prison who. @fxllenpythia

Raffaele and Jianyu were gone. Or rather, within a realm that he could not get to. That he could not save them from. For his betrayal, for his want to destroy Pythia and the Necronomicon, they now suffered a fate worse than death. If they could not be returned to him, if they could not be saved, then there was nothing left for him in this world. And that he would use to ruin Pythia, in any way that he possibly could. He would not give up, not yet, even if his magic no longer flowed through his being. He would find another way to rip the demon apart, even if he had to use his bare hands. "Come to gloat then?" He questioned idly, as if the want to destroy his once sovereign did not burn so hotly within him.

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.”

Pythia understood very well, that the greater number of Seraphim would undoubtedly take the chance to end her should the opportunity arise, she’d long since sought to take an ounce of it personally. However, something about the understanding spoken between them now made the hollow darkness in her chest ache. “It’s been a long time since we’ve held onto all that we deserve, Astaroth,” if there were another way, perhaps, she might have sought it out but the truth was, the human race had been allowed to run this realm into the ground for too long and by the time her invocation became rather permanent, far too much damage had been done. “Since anyone considered us worthy of even an ounce of what we were promised. I only seek to attain a sliver of that.” Albeit, her way came with the promise of casualties and more collateral damage than should ever have been necessary, if anyone could deliver on such a promise, it was undoubtedly Leviathan. “For our siblings.” A spark of nostalgia flickered in her eye. Although gone was the once compassionate seraphim, once full of passion and love, she would burn the skies down to return to them those they had lost; regardless of the cost. “Should you see the others,” their kind - the other fallen, siblings that she’d not fared too close to recently, uncertain as to whether their reparations of her would be as lightly given as his, “Give them my love.” Oh, the irony.

          Far closer in their efforts, he vied to believe it was an understatement, though Roth understood far too well the lengths Michael and Uriel would go to contain the siblings that they had deemed unruly. Serpents once ensnared this realm, sulfuric air and ash making it uninhabitable; he could attempt to relate to the idea that what was since created from such malice was worth saving, but Roth would not stoop to such merciful ideals. No matter how hard Uriel attempted to ally those who he’d once scorned, Roth would rather sit by with his pride intact than to allow themself to abandon their principles. Their wrath was what allowed them to quite literally jump from grace for the divine realm could no longer serve them if they were meant to bow to creatures weaker than they. Roth once figured it was that which unified he and Pythia, that they’d not belittle themselves for mortals, yet it was clear her time locked within the Inferno had morphed that ambition into something else entirely. “I hold the same sentiment for you, dear sister,” he didn’t pass off the promise with vague sarcasm or blase indifference, Roth made it perfectly clear that they would both accomplish what they must if it all boiled down to it. Ulthar had made blades and scribes, not a family, though Roth found amusement in her final sentiment, “I’d like to see you try.” Tacitly expressed care was there, embedded in scorn and bitterness, but the faint wisps of a smile allowed any insight to Roth’s emotions in this moment.

Tuzak (3) | 2022

open to: asphodel coven members @senatusstarters​ location: asphodel house

“We won’t be able to hide from them for much longer.” Nor, in her mind, did she believe they should. Given she’d announced their location, invited them to their front door, that still didn’t give rise to the identities of her accomplices. A fickle detail. Alas, the brevity of human life itself undoubtedly increased their need for self preservation, their devotion one of the many threads that kept her here. The moonlight that shone brightly upon the terrace warmed her like sunlight; the depth of night itself enough to bring a near maniacal laugh to her lips. “They’ll try to infiltrate, pick us apart one by one,” a tactful approach that would only parallel all previous attempts to destroy the Asphodel for good; if only they were so attune to the Methodist act of devotion and the level of depravity the coven itself represented.  Still giddy with the meager city wide retribution that had come to pass some months prior, Pythia balanced precarious upon the tiptoes of her latest vessel, turning the page of the Necronomicon as the blood sacrifice of their newest took hold. The blessed wouldn’t be far behind. “They’ve gone far too quite far too quickly, don’t you think?” Enough to whet her appetite just barely.

Turning on her heel at the sound of a voice clearly speaking to her - familiarity piquing the others' inquiry, Pythia felt the curl of a smile before she saw to react, "Oh, Zoey." The woman she'd forced into vampirism; she remembered the stench of the undead on her the night they'd crossed paths. "Well, beyond the concern for my ankles after wearing these heels for so long, I'm doing rather well -" a small gesture with the silver tray she held, "some kind of spiced meat patte hors dourve, it seems to be a bit of a hit with everyone." For some reason, she understands almost explicity that she's never been all too poite towards the other, though her mind offers up no reasoning to the matter, "I hope you know, it's not personal." As if that explained everything.

who? @fxllenpythia where? idk somewhere, zoey got snackey

"Hi! So good to see you!" There is an extra pep to Zoey's step and a bright grin on her face. She had not felt this good in months, even if she doesn't remember why. What she does know is that the party is great, she is having fun, and she wants to share the joy with everyone that looks even vaguely familiar. "How are you doing? Also, what are you carrying? Anything good to eat?"

“You forget, brother,” Pythia spat, unwilling to allow him the space to belittle her - to discredit the work she’d done and assume her blind to all else. Would she have made it this far, had she underestimated those that would see her gone? “Nothing is as it was before.” The Asphodel held the upper hand - the death of a God, the Druids in mourning, and the truth of what would befall this city - this realm, still to come to light. The fact of the matter was - and always would be, the blessed cared to much for all that it would cost to prevent her from bringing about the end. It was how they were built; pieced together by their ever careless father to believe that what they held in their hearts mattered, when so clearly they’d been shown otherwise. 

Her tongue clicked loudly against the back of her teeth, the smirk that formed coiled around it in sardonic nature as she cast a coy look up at him. “The only cage will be yours, perhaps I’ll do a better job of locking it behind you than Apollo did for me.” And with little more than the blink of an eye, her form dissipated into shadow, the coiling tail of a serpent twisting the darkness until it too disappeared.

/end

fxllenpythia​:

“Oh, but it does.” She quipped back rather happily, “I have not had to take everything I have, despite what you and the others may seek to believe.” Numerous, were the number of those who had handed over their power to further bolster her own. The book and all they offered was not all tainted. “Why should I not be confident, brother? You are in a tailspin, and the fact that you can only lecture me now is more than enough proof.” Saccharine, her tone fell, thick and sweet as honey as it dripped; lacquering each word like tar. “And yet here I stand, despite it.” Despite the inferno that her own siblings had left her to, “I have not suffered forgiveness nor mercy from you for an eternity, I certainly don’t seek it out now, nor shall I. Who exactly are you trying to convince, Uriel?”

☨

“You underestimate the powerful forces building up against you day after day, sister… hubris will be your downfall, as it was before and as it will be.” Uriel smiled coldly, far too tempted to tell her that knew of a way to destroy the Necronomicon. For the first time, the idea was a tempting thing. Otherwise, he knew if he got involved with the process he would lose everything… Either him or Michael would. For Uriel wouldn’t allow their younger Blessed siblings to get involved.

“Go, return to your corrupted minions, Leviathan. I tire of looking at this false face of yours. When you’re finally ripped from this small vessel and thrown back into the cage where you belong… that will be the only time I will hope to see you again.”

It’s perhaps enough to further brighten the spark of Pythia’s mood. The unyielding comfortability in her ability to brag without ever saying a word cuts like flame across her features as she emerges the crowd. Slipping through so many of them as they felt little more than a greater presence of magic and little else in her stead. As the woman steps to confront her, she pauses, just barely as the extent of her cruelty embellishes itself upon her features in a wry grin. “All that was necessary, Eve.” It cuts, like the tip of a freshly sharpened blade, through the loss she can feel surrounding them now. “Which is far more than anyone else has ever been willing to do.”

who: @fxllenpythia​ where: Mercuralia, following the return of the Labrinyth’s

Life never stopped surprising the Aspect since she had fled Eden and part of her wanted an unwritten narrative, wanted the days to pass colored with choice and mystery but this darkness isn’t what she wanted for the world. She wasn’t inherently tied to the First the way the druids were, she didn’t feel their death ripple through her but she did feel it. The way the world loses its color when an old friend leaves the Earth, she could feel the absence without explanation. A smug conquering smile parts through the crowd and Eve feels sick to her stomach, boldly confronting the other – she wanted answers. “What have you done?” 

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.