Latest Posts by fxllenpythia - Page 5

@adatiiel​

The smiley face was a clever move, one that brought a hitch of a smile to Adatiel's mouth even as their search turned up empty. Being the angel of death meant that she reaped everyone who fell, allegiance didn't matter when their days came to an end. She wasn't to fight, her hands didn't call for violence as she was the result of whatever came to be. Adatiel often satisfied her whims, whenever she wished to see someone she did. It was why she felt that a conversation with her wayward sister was long overdue. "Are you happy with the wraiths that you trapped within your walls? Spirits that remain and grow in vengeance can become a dangerous weapon. The spirits are very angry with you."

_

Was she? Happy? As if to make crystal clear, Pythia's smile grew to maniacal proportions, the feint giggle that slipped between her lips eerie at best, and horrifying in the shape it took. "Sister, don't take it so personally. If anything, you should be rather grateful that I led you right to them. The pesky little things." Those that lingered within the walls, wraiths that screamed endlessly, clawing at every sense of humanity that remained, every ounce of their blood riddled empathy had risen as a symphony in the halls of the Asphodel. "Angry? At me?" The pout that settled against porcelain skin feigned innocence that would never look quite right, "Then consider their anger a gift, in the efforts you and the rest of them should make to try and stop me. I daresay, you'll need it."

_

"I don't need your help to find the dead" what ego but Pythia did always carry one, spirits have always beckoned her and she is the angel that is there in the last moment of life. Adatiel was to not be confused with a guardian angel as she did not protect nor decide who lived and died, merely knew when their time had come to an end, when the hourglass had finally run out. Those that died while being tormented or moments of great emotional impact became wraths. As someone who holds death and life in equal care, it is difficult for the seraphim to accept such cruelty. "I wish to hear it from your lips sister, tell me how you wish for this to all end. Do you really wish for darkness to blot out the world?"

_

“No? You’ll have to forgive me for my lacking faith in your.. abilities.” For a millennia, so many of her kind - their kind had done little more than squalor their potential. Bending to the whims of a father who cared for lesser creatures before his own children. Sighing heavily, something more of contentment than anything else, the Pythia smiled quietly to herself. “And why shouldn’t it?” Tongue clicked against her teeth and the brunette eyed the other with irate mischief, cold and calculating - unyielding. “Because daddy dearest said so? They’ve done little but squander the world given to them. Destroyed and plundered a place they’ve never sought to earn. I say, - burn it all to hell.”

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.” 

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.”

sacrilcgiovs​:

where. the new asphodel home when. a few days after who. @fxllenpythia​

“I see you’ve wasted no time settling in,” he stated with an easy air of superiority, which came long before he ever donned the title of Sovereign, or Senator, for that matter. Though, when it came to Pythia, it would never have mattered, for despite his show of titles, everything he had ever earned for himself was at the benefit of her. “Shall I find your little oracle to thank, or would my gratitude fall to you?”

The lengthy twist of her smile as he chides her is minute, enough to cast weary indifference in his direction as she peeks up at him from the comfort of the chaise lounge she occupies. “You should be far more impressed, Kaan. I only moved twice as quickly as you did in securing your place within a second coven. Though, I suppose you had to learn treachery from somewhere, didn’t you?” It’s little more than a jest - his occupation amuses her greatly and has for centuries now. “My oracle? Do you truly believe this is all due to some little prophecy? Tsk. Tsk. Where’s your faith?”

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.”

seraphimichael​:

For centuries Leviathan had been beyond his reach, their being nestled somewhere between physical and metaphysical. They had rooted themselves in the hearts of witches, the great liar, the great schemer, the manipulator that had been doomed to the Inferno along with several of their siblings. Michael and the legions of the divine had driven back Lucifer and the others once before, he would do so again. Pythia had returned in physical form and with this he would hunt them to the very ends of the earth and send them back where they belonged. He did not care if this meant cutting down every witch who’d made a pact with them along the way.

Michael had followed them here, either led into a trap or to Leviathan’s demise he did not care. Still, his fallen sibling had baited him and because he had never lost, he’d pursued them just the same. Michael’s irises split into a dozen as his power leeched forth and peered into the dark ruins, it had once been in fashion to line such places with bones and even now they stayed scattered at his feet.

Lightning crackled between his hands and all at once he struck the place where Leviathan had just stood, the pillar exploded as part of the ruin began to crumble. Another fallen vestige of mortals, another totem of a dead and dying time. Empires had turned over and over, this city had been sacked and burned more than any other, yet still they built bones upon bones. Leviathan’s dread voice a cruel mockery of all the time he’d spent in pursuit of them. “I’ll rest when you’re dead.” Michael spat, his blade in his hand once more as it still hummed with power.

The crack of lightening split her brothers features, illuminating images of their true form within the flickering vestige of power. It tickled amusement within the breadth of her chest. The ire that Michael continued to hold onto was personal - pieces of it calling to razor sharp edges that would do little more than wound. Each and every tie to the world of blood magic ensures that it would take worlds over for them to be rid of her. Hundreds of thousands would meet their end before Leviathan ceased. Where such anger painted Michael with determination and what would undoubtedly be an ungratifying endeavor, she pushed. "You'll never know such peace as death," perhaps a promise, that as long as he lived within the claymade body of Adam - she would remain to see him bested. Taunted. "This world will end before that happens."

A crackle of fire engulfed her hand and her form turned to ash, blistering away in the breeze of the storm carried by the two. Voice carried across the earth, twisting and contorting the distinct familiarity of another - one long gone, a child baring the mark of Nephilim. The cries of Omarosa's soul splintering the space surrounding Michael as corporeal form found her once more, feet behind her brother. "You're blinded, Michael. You always have been."

Blind love and devotion to a father that would so surely overlook them for the lesser creatures gifted the realm of earth. Blinded by loyalty and unable to see the puppet he'd become. Darkness drifted from fingertips like smoke, seeking to cloud the vision of all that lay before him, her voice a ghastly whisper in his ear, "There is no end to this. I will never stop and you will always fail." Still, his fallen daughters screams reverberate against the broken ruins, another promise palpable in the air.

camilaqueiroz: ❤️‍🔥

oraculumx​:

The night was seemingly quiet, yet the lights of the city still obscured the stars that Bastien had come to know too well. A part of this new world that he was not particularly favorable of, given how well he had once been able to trace the constellations with his finger. It wouldn’t matter, though; for the world would soon be theirs, and perhaps he would carve out his own piece of paradise, where he could gaze at the stars every single night. “If they sweeten the deal, perhaps I’ll let them,” teased words spoken with an amused grin cast onto his lips. Pythia had been a long time constant in the witch’s life, since he had long ago sworn his fidelity to the Necronomicon and everything that the Asphodel stood for.

“They may be powerful, but they are few compared to what we can obtain,” for there was no short supply of witches in Rome, nor of the Eladrin or Druids that flocked to the city street. “What would you have us do with them?”

Pythia knew what lay within their hearts, how rotten the souls that they’d squandered before finding their way to her. Whether devotion lay within the skeletal hands of deception or otherwise, he could try. “I know how much you appreciate those features of yours, Bas. Should they find a way to sweeten it, do yourself a favor and remember as much.” Flippant words that sought much the same tone as his own. Fickle, hollow and yet -- “I doubt they’d give you the stars as you so wish to have them.” The lithe structure of this vessel lifted her to perch the balcony edge, fingertips curling tightly as she lent back with dangerous vigor, “I’d have them flayed alive, hung to watch us plunder their spoils until the city lies in ruins,” until the humans - her brethren that thought to stand against her, with their father, should fall to ruin with it. “But, patience and all that. I have a job for you.”

bloodxlevent​:

“You’re turning more and more into that woman from the soap opera we watch.” Levent was sitting with his feet up on the table, a coin dancing along his fingertips – it was a trick he’d taught himself a long time ago, and he still thought it made him look relatively smooth and cool. It didn’t, but Pythia had only told him that once, so he continued to do it. “I think I’m doing a pretty good job.” He had friends in the Dahlia coven, but they didn’t know he was simply using them for his own personal gain. At least, not yet. “Yeah, but you forget that most of us are also playing a good role. You have the witches from Narcissus, me, the best one out there, and another coven that hasn’t bothered to press against us. You’re out in the open, but only with a few of you.” He gave a half smile, “Some would say you may have a problem, but at least you fit the part well.”

“And who’s fault is that?” The choice of such soap operas was not something that she’d spent all that much time pondering over until the more recent splurge of them. More proof that the humans of this world were little more than fickle creatures barely worth their weight in salt. “You do manage the whole, wolf in sheeps clothing, I’ll give you that. It’s a wonder you’re not offended to blend in so well.” A curt taunt in his direction as the coin within his hand shifted into a small, black python with the redirection of his own energies. “You can’t play the good guy forever, Lev. It comes with an expiry date that’s fast approaching.” She knew, perhaps more than most, one could only hide for so long when one had a desire to watch the world burn. “I don’t see it as a problem,” no longer stifled by the act of hiding; she felt powerful; moreso than ever.. 

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.”

camila queiroz via instagram

camila queiroz via instagram

@bleedingwings​ location: the embassy

The shifting atmosphere within the building as she entered told her that there were enough people within that noticed something different. Whether they were attune enough to process the thought or simply felt the quiet tickle in the back of their throat as they cast hues across the crowd. It mattered little. She was only here for one. Gone were Pythia’s reasons for remaining undetected; passing beneath the inbuilt radar that their brethren were both blessed and cursed with. The coven of Asphodel had announced themselves - brilliantly. And now, Pythia needed to seek out those that would serve in the restructure of Rome and the mortal realm.  The glass poured out before the blonde vessel Sariel had chosen, the brunette slips by, plucking it from the bar top and draining it dry. “A little heavy on the vermouth,” she feels every ounce of fallen that emanates between them. A stark difference to the sickening glow carried by those blessed; the fluorescents of this world only plucked the same strings of an ache within her skull as their prophetic siblings did. “You’re not nearly difficult enough to find anymore, Riel.”

augustcavaliere​:

“No, no we won’t.” The senate would establish order in the city once more, their enemies would align, and then they would come for the coven. The Asphodel had invited them here and whether the senate knew it or not, they’d play right into their hands. “But, who’s hiding?” August asked rhetorically as he fixed his gaze upon the Pythia with equal parts awe and amazement, “I leave tomorrow to perform my final rite, effective immortality, my final pledge to the necronomicon.” The cost was substantial, so many lives would go noticed at a time like this, August had no choice but to perform it elsewhere away from the prying eyes of the senate and the marshals who would stand to intervene.

August had stood proudly at the Pythia’s side along with the Egotist and Lucretia when the Asphodel had proclaimed themselves responsible for the massacre at Halloween and devotedly sided with the architect who’d bring about the destruction of the status quo. Good. The witch had come to Rome to seek vengeance for his disappeared father, but in Erik’s absence he found only dead whispers and broken promises - Pythia had found him as a broken ruined thing and together they’d reunited the shattered necronomicon alongside the others.

There was no act that the witch would not throw himself into on the Pythia’s behalf, where there were some who may have doubted their supremacy August had always known the power behind the figure. From childhood’s hour Python had guided his hand, his blade, his magic, when he was cornered it was blood that had set him free. “The blessed… Their presence.” August had felt their arrival within the city, it was unmistakable. “How can we destroy them?” They had undoubtedly come here to put an end to their plans, to put an end to the Pythia, something August would never allow.

Still, the wickedness in her smile grew. Dripping with venom with the premise of a tantalizing sweetness as movements of a dancer drew her nearer the witch. Undoubtedly, she knew that none of them were so willing to hide any longer. The rise of the Asphodel was monumental; bringing about a world in those she sought after would no longer be forced to remain hidden. A world unto chaos. “Luckily, they’re fools and won’t notice their mistake until they’re already within our grasp.” Fickle, the minds of protectors - too busy with the offence to consider proper defensive strategy. It was, after all, how all else had fallen into their very laps. August had spoken to her many times about the ritual, about all it required and all that could come of it. The greatest of sacrifices to the Necronomicon - to her and the Goddess of True Death. Delicate features relegated his own now, silken tresses shifting as she tilts her head and reaches to brush fingertips beyond his ear, “I’ll be with you.” Regardless of where she was - she would be with all of them come their final rite.

Every so often; the turn of the century would bring to her a being or two that held a special place among those that served. Those that personified every ounce of fury and malice that she carried with her - born of Ulthar’s betrayal and Leviathan’s fury - August Cavaliere was one of those. “The Necronomicon knows’ what’s in your heart, I know you.” Far lesser men had sold their soul in it’s entirety. With frail drive and hollow machinations - but not August. “I look forward to seeing you upon your return.” In helping him to understand the full extent of the power it granted him; all that he could wield and all that he could burn in her stead. For all he’d given, her guidance and protection was deserved. “We’ll have much to discuss.” It was a feeling that he would undoubtedly come to recognize, where one followed - the rest were sure to follow, those tasked with hunting down the fallen and all those that stood in their way would not take lightly to Pythia’s resurgence. “I was wondering when you would begin to feel them. You must remember it, August. How it felt.” Too many would see him as little more than an outreach of her own power; and they’d be right. As long as the Asphodel continued to grow in power; so would she. “They can be banished, given the right tools and those willing to participate.” However, “Destroying one doesn’t come so easily, unfortunately.” Lips pursed tightly together and ran her tongue across her teeth indignantly, “The only way is with a seraph blade, wielded only by the divine themselves.” 

open to all @senatusstarters

Trinkets. Mere trinkets. The display case of items on offer for the dark arts and blood magic did nothing more than belittle the craft that the most prominent component of her existence revolved around. A dull blade. A crows skull. Undoubtedly, the human behind the counter held onto the idea of a lucky rabbit’s foot or the eye of newt. Lifeless shards of crystal craven beneath her fingertips as she browses mindlessly. “it’s any wonder they make any money here.” Tourism and the naivety of humans however, had proven relentless over and over again. “This is just sea glass,” delicate fingertips scoop up the blue green, jagged rock - smooth edges gone; clearly damaged. “The only thing it’ll bring you is a mouthful of seawater.”

@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?”

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.

@seraphimichael​ location: we’re in the colosseum baby.

Moonlight filtered through ruins in much the same way the cosmos scintillated the vast abyss above. Just enough to offer something beyond the premise of total darkness; a bleak, cold existence. Lithe fingertips that ghosted across crumbling echoes of a lifetime ago, Pythia felt near giddy as the dread and fear of all that lingered from the past flowed through her. The aches and pains of those that would never see beyond these walls; humans caught within the snare of their own kind and forced to cut teeth against stone to garner even a single day more.  “Michael,” the eerie drift of her voice carried across the stagnant air as if it’d been whispered upon the greatest of winds. Harrowing, the echo reverberated against the stone and kissed promise of the greatest haunting the mortal realm had ever known. “Oh, Michael..” The singsong sweetness to her tone near sickening as she slipped through the broken gate and laid onyx hues upon the one she’d avoided for so long. Not unaware of his plight to remove each of the fallen from this world like the stains he deemed them to be.  Saccharine lips turn upward and yet any who bore witness could pledge that nothing but venom would pass beyond her tongue, even as she meandered closer, not unlike a long lost sibling relegating a near stranger. “You look weary, brother.” Or perhaps rather, he felt as much. “Or perhaps it is the mundane vessel you continue to hold onto.”