The Presence Of Another Seraphim Breeching The Otherworld Didn’t Surpass Observation. The Subtle Feeling

"Unfortunately," Pythia murmurs, setting her sights upon the city that hails itself beyond the glass window. Riddled with the gifts of freedom that should have rightfully been theirs. A world subjugated by mortals and torn from the fingertips of all those fallen. "They think I'm done." It burns white hot within the pit of Levithan's chest, for it's far from over. White knuckles protrude as she cast a menial glance at Mammon upon his approach, "I offered a choice," albeit, a terrible one at that, it was the archfiend's olive branch. "And this is what they chose, this... pitiful, vile existence." Violence, she'd cast across the realm; scintillated pockets across Rome, a blink of all that she could do - all that they could do. "I made a mistake, one that I'll surely not make a second time."

where. somewhere she might be who. @fxllenpythia

"Has this realm always been so vile?" Or had their taste for it been significantly diminished since their return from the Inferno. Mammon had never cared for the little humans before, not unless they greatly interested him. For all seemed to be ever the same. One of the glasses in their hand was offered to the other, "How have you not already wiped them clean from this city?"

@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."

@sacrilcgiovs​ location: we’re out and about okay 

Although time didn’t exist as such a fickle imminence to Pythia, years had gone by since she’d last set foot upon the cobbled streets of Rome prior to October’s festivities. Every effort to deceive and thwart her brethren's efforts to find them over the centuries depicted the demonic fallen as little more than smoke between the fingertips of a child. And yet, every soul given over to the Necronomicon remained a connection held beyond all else. Seeking out one of the very first of the Asphodel had been akin to spotting blood on a pristine white surface, even amongst the crowd of the marketplace. Thoughts which circled his mind echoing across the void to her own until he just as surely felt her presence. “You’ve been a busy man, Kaan -- Narcissus, is it?” The playful tone in her voice just as easily menacing as she kicked out the wicker chair opposite her, hues barely flickering gesture that he sit. “Let’s catch up, shall we?”

©

“I suppose we’ll see how true that really is, won’t we?” The air of disbelief that caught the edge of each word as purposeful as ever, hues of near obsidian eyeing the wolf as if she wasn’t entirely certain that he wouldn’t bend the knee so readily. “Perhaps you’ll yet surprise me.” Though, she wouldn’t hold a proverbial breath. Useful, he claimed, and she had to wonder exactly where he found such use in the lead of a man none of them could truly know. Torture and callous treatment could change the very molecules of a man; of a creature among them. “My point is, that nothing happens in Rome that isn’t premeditated. Do you believe that your new alpha escaping the clutches of the eye just in time for your little wolf-fest is little more than coincidence?” She didn’t expect such a thought to sink beyond surface level, in truth - she wanted to find out exactly where the former alpha stood. Their alliance with the fey a rather tricky thing to navigate. “You pander to all that must be hard won, instead of seeking the path of least resistance. The hearts of changelings, no?”

fxllenpythia​:

“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.”

Don’t you? Serkan made no reaction to the question. Whatever plans he had were tossed out the window the moment he had been defeated. If he wanted to do anything now, it would have to be planned very precisely. He was loyal to his pack and always would be regardless of leadership. The Wolf had hardly ever been one, only taking up the mantle because of circumstance. If Ermes had ever defeated him, he would have given up the spot, but he doubted the same respect would have been given as it was to Alek. Which was why he was quick to respond. “I don’t bark at the heels of anyone.” He would follow the new Alpha, but he would not blindly follow anyone. Every decision he made was going to be thought out from now on. “I only align myself with people that are useful. For now, they are useful.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug to cement his point, hands falling into his pockets. “Are you going to just circle around your point?”

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. 

“Loyal? No kidding.” She deadpans without a moments pause, “You’re all far too busy sniffing each others asses to be anything but, I understand the concept.” Her followers mimicked loyalty just as surely in their path to power until it became an obsession; in her mind, Lycan’s spared just as little humility than some of those that called to her. “Yes, yes - you’re angry, it’s you, not him, I’d say your breath must smell like his shit with how adamant you sound.” Yet, should another come to take their new Alpha’s place, Pythia didn’t doubt those within this Lupo pack would shift loyalty just as easily. “What do you think will happen if the senate and the eye manage to do away with little old me and the Asphodel?” She shifted, pressing her elbows onto the table between them, propping her chin up with her hands, “Tiamat forbid, they manage, what hope in hell do you believe your pack has?” It was a risk, but truly, Pythia was only considering a bolster of sorts, another contingency among many. 

fxllenpythia·:

Awash with the sense of his own weariness, Pythia struck and drew the very air from his lungs, the heat of hellfire rippling against his insides; it’s a flicker of irritation, but one she doesn’t cling to and quickly it dissipates. “You grow weary of questions, and yet you have barely lived through a single life. Spare me the dramatics, would you?” There’s something buried within the tone of her voice that coveys everything from the inferno; a depth of gracelessness that offers him only one chance to redirect his patience. “No, sparky. I’m not talking out of my ass. Perhaps you’ve not truly thought this through. Does tearing the Eye down not draw all of you directly into their conniving arms, Serkan? You cannot hope to pick them off one by one, there are too many. Destruction of such a far-stretching and interwoven institution does not come easy, and it certainly doesn’t come from one who was little more than a lab rat. All he offers you is anger.” Of which, the wolves already had far too much of. “I’m aware of what they do. I also know that changelings are not exactly a delicacy that is easy to come by, and charging your way into the otherworld is only asking for trouble.” She should know - afterall, the creatures the drow held control over and the asphodel themselves sought to fortify the other realm in ways none would ever see coming. “But, should you require more than a mere handful…” Hues rolled into the back of her skull and a blooming laugh flit from her lips like butterfly wings - soft and gentle, “Were I to make an enemy of you, you’d already be dead so, choke that bark of yours right back down and work with me.”

It had not been a good idea to have this conversation. She had far more power than he could ever dream of having and it was in his best interest to make sure he got away from the Pythia as soon as possible. Every word spoken, every action she made would have dire consequences for him. Serkan often spoke without thinking of what could happen to him in return. It was something he knew would need to be worked on, but that moment had not come right now. No, instead he had simply pushed her buttons to the point where it had the air leaving his lungs, irritation forming within his body for a mere moment before it was gone. It made him feel weak, but this was someone that could kill him in a second if given the chance. The fact that she hadn’t yet was…well, it was surprising. Clearly, she wanted to prove something to him. The lycan was hardheaded though. “Lycans are loyal, you know. I’m not sure if you know that concept all too well, but it means that I will not manipulate him based on this theory that you have. And that anger you think he’s offering me? It’s not from him. I’ve been angry for a long time. This didn’t start because of his ascent to the top.” Whatever Alek offered would be done. Serkan had made it his duty to keep an eye out on the alpha and make sure he wasn’t caught with his pants down at any moment in time. She had a lot to say though and he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t listening to all of it. “Work with you?” Eyes closing, a thought flitted through his mind before it was gone just that fast. “What do you want from me? What could I offer you that you could possibly want?”

First one's free.

The rise of his voice - a moment of frustration and anger was one of the only flickers of conviction the Pythia had seen of Eric in some time now. Hollowed out by his own discomfort - his choice to stradle the line between this life and the next would be his downfall. Unable to choose until all that remained was the pitiful indecision to return to a world that had already cast him aside once. “You should have spent these months learning to secure your own fate instead of wallowing in self-pity, abhorrence or expecting someone else to do it for you.” A serpent’s hiss rounded out the snap of her own fangs, the glimmer of hues daring him to test another bark in her presence. Still, she softens - smiles, and shakes her head gently, “I never needed to make you a monster, Eric. You’ve been one since birth - and everyone, including your mother, knew it.” It’s flippant, haphazard, the way she speaks. As though every word she spoke were facts well known. “You were exiled long before the pack turned it’s back on you, and it seems you’re itching to experience that all over again.”

“If all you see here is destruction, you’ve not been looking hard enough.” The asphodel - the Necronomicon, was wrought with the creation of all things frowned upon. To stop death in its tracks, open realms beyond this one, and bring about a world that no longer saw those with such an affinity banished to barren lands. Eric had yet to see the totality of the destruction that she could wrought and as she wove the intricacies of power around her finger, the once regaled seraphim condemned the volatile to a life of bridled pain. A shortened life, beyond the safe haven of those willing to do anything - his body would seek to reject the hearts granting - long life, and strength beyond all else. Rue the control he sought being safe - the fire within him deserved so much more. The spark of a flame ignites and the blackened candles surrounding the room cast long shadows across the room. “Your troubles are your own, Eric. I offered you opportunity, and you squandered it. Perhaps the harbinger won’t mind another disappointment.”