It’s About As Much As She Suspected, And Rightfully, She Could Have Trifled Through His Thoughts To

(…)you learned to love the absence of sound, absence of an aching voice rubbed raw, your world just a whisper, a holy name uttered before sleep and dreams of burning.

Vandana Khanna, from You Who Have Taken The Name Clare in “Train To Agra” (via bonequeen)

@arakhor

"You're talking to the great deceiver, and foolishness has never been my downfall before." If the fact that she still stood - eons after she fell, after the plight of the old gods, the first destruction of the book. The greater demon was without a doubt, a plague upon the world of mortals and all those beyond. This was nothing new - rather, a new war, indeed. "Your concern is noted, but I sleep upon silken sheets of blood with the most wretched lovers at my beck and call - perhaps you're merely projecting." Her smile is wrought with tongue and cheek. Petty insults and proclamations do not make her waiver. "Is that what you want, Pluto - do you want to hurt me?" Again, where civil conversation cannot exist, Pythia exerts the goad in a rather childlike manner. "Agree to disagree then, shall we? Until you decide to use that bite for something other than clenching your jaw and brooding in darkened corners at least." A brow rose, defiant in nature, "I know what I want and what I deserve, that's all it comes down to."

"Don't be fooled, Pythia, words can be deceiving," and words can lead to false assumptions. Yes, he'd been all about love and loyalty, of keeping those he held dear safe, simply because of what happened to Cyra and how he'd failed her back then. Now, after the great war, technically but also not 15 years later, he saw Pythia as nothing more than an ambitious creature of immense hatred. What the world had to offer them would never be enough, what they desired would only lead to complete destruction. "I just think you need a good night's rest and get fucked nicely," he wasn't being serious, but a part of him just didn't care. "Kore's gone, I'm not opposed to hurting her allies," the original vampire shrugged. They could probably spew venom at each other for years to come, but Pluto didn't really desire to keep thinking about his captivity, his broken body and soul. "never lost it," in all honesty he was hungrier than ever, "and you? I see nothing can keep you down. How unfortunate."

conquestofuriel​:

Time:Post plot drop stuff  Location:Aftermath of the former Asphodel House  Characters: @fxllenpythia & @conquestofuriel

Selene was what they called themselves now. Like Uriel, their sibling took on the essence of the sex of their vessel and it was that femininity which made Uriel see them now as his sister, though his sister had long since stopped being family. She was corrupted and vile, a monster that had to be annihilated. As it was, Uriel was not unwise enough that he would seek to challenge her right then and there on the streets of Rome. He was powerful, but she had created far more power with the help of the Necromonicron and her little coven. This was a battle that he would not be able to initiate on his own, that was why he came to the mortal realm with the other three. But neither did Uriel believe that could she wisely lay a hand on him. So the two Seraphim stood at in impasse when he finally found her looking up at her former home. The place where she’d laid a trap for them.

“You finally show your face… sister.”

The ruins of the once great house lay before her, a kingdom conquered. One menial, hapless kingdom that would simply pave the way for the next. The familiarity that fluttered through her veins told Pythia quickly that she wasn’t alone - that such solitude was once again interrupted by one of her own. Brother. Such was to be expected now that hiding within the centuries no longer suited. Coming into such power with every soul offered to the Necronomicon only one more reason added to the hundreds of thousands that lacquered her intentions in ichor and poison. Onyx hues flicker over her shoulder, clocking the ancient horse-lord seraphim with a look that invoked invite, rather than indifference. Come; look. At the foolishness of their hope - their blind faith. “Were you lot looking in the right places, you’d have found me long ago.” Whether it be this face, or any of those previous. Pythia always existed, just out of reach and never too far away. “You’re all making this far too easy for me, it’s disappointing.”

LANFEAR | The Wheel of Time - 2.06

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?"

There is always defectors, those unable to handle the power and weight that the asphodel offers. It has never carried a moniker for misfits and miscreants in the way that so many consider it. It was not a comfort that home could not give - the asphodel was a want, a dire need and for those who lacked the impervious determination to build something of themselves, would always fall through the cracks. Fodder for the book. Pythia had heard the whispers - the thoughts that spun within Marcella's mind and while Eric turned his back, true that he would never rise to be enough, the witch before her was a different story. "The darkness will always follow.." She whispers, barely audible as she looks upon the young woman. "It will never be me, that's in need, Marcella." One way or another, the book would find her again - in death, or to return the gift of power she now sought to turn away from.

Person: @fxllenpythia Location: Haus Asphodel She is packing and she thinks everyone knows it. Thankfully everyone is busy enough minding their own business. That's something they all seem really keen on doing, it should have been a sign from the beginning. They all come together to cause chaos but she has seen time and time again how each member of the coven seems to have their own agenda, their own ambitions. She's got her own agenda and staying with the Asphodel isn't going to help her one bit, not anymore. Marcella is gathering her things, some books and tucking them away into a bag of holding when she catches a shadow darkening her door, one that makes her nearly freeze. The Pythia is someone she has skirted around, someone with far too much power. "Did you need something?" It's an innocent question, it is soft, she is not afraid, not so much anymore.

“Undoubtedly.” Pythia quips with ripe confidence, “I couldn’t very will bring all this about and not ensure you all received and invite to the main event now, could I?” It was inevitable. As always. Wherever Leviathan went, whatever cracks in the surface of the world she and her following created, they would find her. One way or another. Destruction would remain the only thing that ever brought the seraphim together - for war, nonetheless. An enticing display with an uncertain end. “What are you to do, Uriel? I’ve already been cast to the depths of hell and crawled my way out. Do you truly believe I could not do so again?” As long as the book remained, Levithan would linger in the very folds of the world, forever whispering of the gifts she could offer - the power that would forever tether her to this realm. 

“I daresay by now, you’d have already found a way to be rid of me and yet...” Here she stood. Centuries had passed while she pieced together each and every facet of all that would tether her to her immortal state; void of the dangers that might linger the higher she rose to power. “And yet, you hold onto empty threats in the hope you’ll find a way to stop me. How does it feel? To know you’ve fought all this time, and it will amount to nothing at all.”

fxllenpythia​:

The ruins of the once great house lay before her, a kingdom conquered. One menial, hapless kingdom that would simply pave the way for the next. The familiarity that fluttered through her veins told Pythia quickly that she wasn’t alone - that such solitude was once again interrupted by one of her own. Brother. Such was to be expected now that hiding within the centuries no longer suited. Coming into such power with every soul offered to the Necronomicon only one more reason added to the hundreds of thousands that lacquered her intentions in ichor and poison. Onyx hues flicker over her shoulder, clocking the ancient horse-lord seraphim with a look that invoked invite, rather than indifference. Come; look. At the foolishness of their hope - their blind faith. “Were you lot looking in the right places, you’d have found me long ago.” Whether it be this face, or any of those previous. Pythia always existed, just out of reach and never too far away. “You’re all making this far too easy for me, it’s disappointing.”

☨

If Uriel had the other three with him in the moment, perhaps even Michael, it would be easy enough to annihilate their sister. Ayi’ig and Tiamat were not here. Perhaps the entirety of Rome would be decimated in the process, but such would be the cost of eliminating a worldwide threat. She could never take them all on face-to-face. Even with the power of the Book, they were 4 Blessed Seraphim meant to kill the Gods and their kin; Leviathan was but one fallen Seraphim and greater demon, with a few extra accessories. Yet this was precisely why Uriel knew this would be the only way he’d find her. They were both alone.

And so he could do nothing but look her in the eyes, letting every hint of his hatred show. This was beyond betrayal now; she was not like any of the other Fallen. A greater demon, an abomination meant to destroy all that made this world what it was. Perhaps the best he could get out of this was to bait her; conquest was nothing if not cunning. “You know very well what our presense means here, Leviathan. You’re aware that what you’re doing is equivalent to war with the Gods… Do you truly believe yourself invincible with some little book?” 

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.”

"Keep looking," as if he could be distracted by any amount at a time like this. Regardless of what came their way, Pythia would push forward. The battle ahead was truly the equivalent of a sidequest in the grand scheme of things. An offering to her devout. To take what they willed - relinquish what no longer served them all before they could look upon the gates of hell itself. What mattered, was the ritual taking place below them. Drawing the seals that kept her fallen brethren from bringing the world to it's knees with them. "Do not forget to inform me of the Drow. We wouldn't want to let our friends down in the coming days." It was an alliance that Python placed weight in for the time being, every olive branch could become a tangled of thorns without the proper attention. A brow rises to a manicured point and she huffs a breath of laughter, "Keep your secrets then," as much as he could; the greater demon would always see the truth within her most devout just as had whispered to them all over their lives, "I suppose you're going to make me to and ask him myself, hm?"

The visions had come, one after the other of the plans that would give the Asphodel the upper hand. Each new move, each new division that split from the greater body were meant with an assault from the coven. Always one step ahead of them, Bastien could pluck it from the three sisters just as the plan was formed. As if the witch were in the very depths of the Senate's minds. As if he knew their next moves even before they themselves did. "Their numbers are dwindling," he mused, head canted to the side as he peered into the darkness. "They'll continue to advance, hope to reach us before they are wiped away," but his lips curled into a smile, deadly just as he was. That is, until Pythia pressed upon what he himself was still so unsure of. "Levent?" He spoke the name as if it were unfamiliar to him, his eyes opened to peer over at her now. "If I were aware of anything besides his jealousy of my ability to bleach and tone, I would have a fair amount to share." It wasn't necessarily a lie, for Bastien had yet to uncover precisely what frustrations Levent had meant.