@lulucretias

As her name flit through the mind of another, Pythia cracked out the ache in her neck with a rather jarring twist of her jaw. All in a days work, she supposed as the pull towards the other became something ethereal. A plea more than anything, as were all those seeking her out so reverently. Nobody chose to walk the path towards her without wanting something dire - power, revenge; death. It bled from their every whim and just as she’d expected, the air was so thick with it, she could taste the sweetness in the air. “Then you’ve been missing out for your entire life, Abel.” Ire doesn’t beseech her in being summoned this time, there are some who call to her who are hardly worth the price of their own soul, and yet - she knows that this one will cater to the necronomicon and herself in time.  Laughter splits concerning lips and Pythia presses her shoulders into the wall she rests upon, drawing herself to full height as she picks at dust within the air, “I’d argue that you’ve needed my help for a very long time, yet you’ve never quite made it this far before, have you?” Always toeing the line so readily blurred by those of his kind. The destruction so often molded from the skeletal foundations of blood magic only satisfied by those who could talk their way out of it’s damnation. Confident steps drew her closer until she could draw the chair out opposite him, plopping herself into it like a child as she lent forward and placed her chin in her hands, the sickly scent of his blood permeating satisfaction within her. “Tell me everything and don’t leave out a single detail,” she paused, hues narrowing for a moment before a saccharine grin split her features, “I’ll know if you do.”

          a gift for @fxllenpythia​,

          Abel’s relationship with the Pythia was complicated. He’d offered sustenance for the magic that kept them present in this realm a myriad of times in his adolescence, bad decisions spurred on by a mentor who was drunk off of the potent blood magic that the Pythia had devised. He hadn’t touched it since his last Sovereign had been taken out and it had taken a lot out of Abel to have tapped into such channel again to save Cain form the pits of the Inferno after he’d been banished on Halloween. The guilt feasted upon him with ease, this pitfall effect that opened doors that had once been brandished shut. Blood magic had this innate pull and ever since the seraphim had transformed his familiar into a human, Abel had already been attempting to delve into such magic again; a dark path that he only hoped would salvage Cain. Some believed becoming human would be a blessing but Cain had been a demon so long he figured Cain would not vie to be bound to such a mundane life once more.

A summoning of the Pythia was easy, light work considering all that Silas, his former sovereign and pseudo-parent had taught him. The Pythia used such potent magic to amplify their presence on this mortal plane but like any demon, he could note the ways they leeched off of emotion and need, too. “I’ve been avoiding this my entire life.” It’s started off the moment the summoning proves successful, Abel drumming his fingers on the table he sat in front of, a cloth now covering his bloodied hand. “But I think I might actually need your help for once.”

LANFEAR | The Wheel of Time - 2.06

The qualms of humanity, are ever-present, even within the living dead and she's quickly reminded of the fatal flaw of emotional connection as Valentina conjures to a near-corporeal form beside a rotting headstone. "I've taken much from you?" It's a haughty reiteration of such a claim, the saccharine curve of her lips unmistakable as she shakes her head in mild disbelief. "The shock factor that you lot cling to, it's exhausting. Truly." It was always, you've taken this, you've taken that - and never, look at all the things she'd made possible for someone like Valentina. Kaan - all those who revered her as the ultimate betrayer. "Kaan is the one who took from you, Val, darling. Now is not the time to misplace your feelings." Though, the challenge is there. "The price of betrayal has never been something I've kept close to my chest. Kaan understood the risk and took it anyway. Did he stand as your friend when he made the choice to turn his back on everything I've given him? Everything I'd given you? Knowing he would never succeed."

who: @fxllenpythia where: The Graveyard

Pythia was dangerous company to keep and Valentina didn't dare invite her within her sanctuary that the Narcissus estate was, most days she rarely unlocked the doors for the witches to leave unless they promised to return -- not wishing for the Estate to be a prison but the Wraith could be an dangerous spirit at times and she was controlled by her empathetic abilities, becoming emotional made her gain power and lose control. Python was a demon that had kept her company in life, she had split her palms to conjure magic and she dallied with the blood of others in ritual, it was pure luck that brought her back as a spirit instead of an accidental sacrifice. The leylines ran underneath the tombstones and made her stronger, more vivid in appearance as she stood in front of the fallen Seraphim. "You've gone far, you've taken much from me. Kaan is nowhere to be found in the spirit realm, I don't expect you to have a heart but there was once a day where I considered you a friend." Bitterness strained her voice as she was a fool then and miserable now.

“You are not like most.” As much had been clear to her from the moment that August first felt compelled enough to touch fingertips to the art of dark magic and inevitably called to her. So many that wanted would never comprehend what it took to obtain everything, and all of them would fall to the pages of the book for their cowardice alone. To sacrifice to the necronomicon and find anything beyond that too much to handle was comical at best. “He showed me,” she speaks and the tone of her voice emboldens with the hint of a smirk that toys at her lips. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” At least, nothing that drove her as wildly as the very premise he spoke of. “Did you think I’d take us this far and not allow you there for it, August?” She prises with an edge of mock offence in her voice, “I’m not a monster.” A joke that undoubtedly humored her far more than she let on. Monster; abomination, she’d heard it all - conformed to it all out of pure spite. Levithan had long since become all that they’d feared she would, and there was no end in sight as of yet. “We’re so close. Speak to the drow, I want to know what their rodents have discovered. And keep looking for deserters.”

fxllenpythia​:

“Everything comes with a price,” an utterance that had gone unspoken for so long between them. Python had never seemingly had to warn August of what would come of his venture with her and the Necronomicon. Even still, it was only ever the stout of heart that remained when the truth of such a statement was embedded into the very marrow of harrowed bones. “They’d claw their way down for the ultimate power and yet refuse to pay the ultimate price. Fooling themselves into believing that being mediocre is a good enough gift in return for mindless servitude and laws.” All that the other side offered in her mind would retain the shape of a cage, no matter how she looked at it. Stemming from the very will of Ulthar himself - and his decree that the seraphim were to allow the humans the world promised to them - to protect and serve from above; entwined by the consequence of free-will being their own undoing. 

“More will leave,” she started, “allow some of them to believe they’ve done all they can. The time will come when they will pay what we’re owed.” We; as if everything she’d ever beholden to the world was also given to him. “Were they bold enough to have a single thought of their own, they’d understand that there are other ways.” True death. With no way back - no way to reverse the loss of a soul. A price that none expected, and one she refused to warn them of. She’d needed the numbers to begin with, the souls to grant her the power to invoke such a spell; to bring about the death of a God. Now, their souls belonged to the book - to her, and where they ran, she would always find them. “Narcissus betrayed us. Revealing our location to the Senate. We should pay them a visit.”

-

The fight had taken everything from him, the absence of power that came with the loss of channeling Trivia was palpable to the power-hungry necromancer even now. For someone like him, with everything that he’d become, it was impossible to not miss it, to not crave it. The Asphodel had worked in tandem and crushed a reinforced city under heel, the archdruids had broken, their petty God had broken, and that ichorous blood of the divine that flowed over his fingertips was addictive. That anyone would walk away now felt foolish, stupid even. Weak. “There’s no price I wouldn’t pay,” no price he likely hadn’t paid. “Bastien had a vision of the empty throne of the Gods, of blood raining down over Elysium.” The druids and their paradise, but what was heaven if not just another realm to devour? “I want to be there when it happens.” He wanted to see firsthand the look on the faces of those who’d betrayed them - the lesson that they would learn when they had nothing left but their own despair. 

Reservoir Dogs (1992) ⤷ dir. Quentin Tarantino

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.

efigeniax​:

          “We should be honored we’re even considered in mainstream marketing,” her words are cold, not entirely offended by the sad shop which made a mockery of what it could not understand. It felt strange to toy with her words, make frail little jokes when it was Python themselves that stood before her. She’d dreamed of such corporeal moment far too long, only embraced by shuddered whispers that Pythia would inevitably come forth and bring solace and prosperity to her world for the fuel she had warranted them. Efigenia paused, simmering in her own digestion of what could be described as a starstruck moment, though she internalized anything beneath a cold carapace that only offered a quirk of an eyebrow. Softer now, as though Pythia was a kindred friend, she tried again, “People make a mockery of what they themselves are incapable of understanding.” The trinkets were an enfeebled vision of one who would likely be consumed by blood magic if they were ever in a dire need to attempt it.

The huff of laughter that chokes it’s way out is void of all humor and she makes little effort to hide as much. The effects of mainstream marketing indeed, fed her all the more souls than had ever been necessary, but the useless power that came with it often felt like a drain. “If only it offered the same honor in practice itself. Undoubtedly, it’s a reason all it’s own that so much of it is taboo.” Once again, the higher power doomed to take a step back and allow the weaker species thrive. Over and over, the same mistakes of history repeated. “Breathe, Efigenia,” she smiles, short and yet sweet as she steps around her to her other shoulder. She wasn’t the first, and certainly wouldn’t be the last - the projection of everything the fallen was was hard for some to swallow when faced with the truth of her power. “It’s nothing new. The same behavior the world has seen time and time again. Misunderstanding is the very impracticality that creates monsters and here we are.” Bound by the ideals of a senate that did not see the world through anything but their own eyes - by the eyes of her brethren, who would only obey the orders of the father; unwilling to see beyond his own ego. “What is it that you understand about all of this? This city and it’s rule.”

NATASHA O'KEEFFE as LANFEAR in WHEEL OF TIME 2.08

One moment, she stands before Vitoria, and the next tendrils of smoke carry her to the alcove the Narcissus once sat. There are a great many followers - or those soon to be, that Pythia listens to, eavesdropping for tidbits of information that would otherwise make it all the easier to twist them to her bidding. It hasn't gone amiss, that Vitoria, like her mother before her, is seeking more information on the world of blood magic. "You continue your search for knowledge," she smirks, all warmth and endearment as she pats the alcove beside her. "Yet you seek it out in the wrong places." Of course, she talks of the Amaranthus - those who may know the touch that blood magic can offer, but never the true gift of it. "You're on the verge of offending me, dear Vitoria. I thought we were friends."

who? @fxllenpythia where? the museum, staff area

There is a little alcove, hidden on the staff area of the museum, that Vee likes for it's emptiness. Hard to find, it is rarely inhabited, so she takes to taking naps or breaks on it when everything becomes too much. With Kaan gone, so it's one of her safety needs, and there is a suspicion raising on her chest that she does not want to acknowledge. So she doesn't, blinding herself willingly in this matter as she looks at the ceiling and exhales. She has time before anyone needs her, so she is considering sleeping, when a chillingly familiar presence approaches her. It is almost like welcoming an old friend, like seeing family after a long time.

Vitória has heard Pythia's voice ever since she was a child, the murmurs encouraging on her exploration of blood magic, their present constant at the back of her head.

Recognizing them it's easy, what comes after? Not so much.

"What do I owe this pleasure to?" She questions, standing up as graceful as she can manage and offering the Archfiend a bow of respect.