“I Suppose We’ll See How True That Really Is, Won’t We?” The Air Of Disbelief That Caught The

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.

It grates her nerves and though he did, indeed, leer such greeting as a testament to what Leviathan had always envisioned, there's a pinching tease within it that makes her want to turn each of his snacks to dust within his pockets. "You're positively glowing," not nearly his glorifying beautiful garish self. It's insult to a festering wound and she's never wished to make a realm bleed as much as she does in this fleeting moment. "It's disgusting." The wave of her hand sends that which he holds flying across the room as she settles in beside him. "Hail Lucifer, indeed. Have you seen him? Since arriving?" Pythia certainly hadn't and it was one, among many, affronts to suffer through while her coven returned to hiding.

a starter for @fxllenpythia,

Abaddon was already feasting on his thirteenth emergency snack, little tidbits packed away in his vessel's coat that were proving to be an insufficient amount as the day was only half way through and he'd almost pilfered the entire stash. What some would look upon and label as stress-eating was merely Abaddon's sacred vice, though it was noted that the more he ate, the more under duress he actually was. Freed from in the Inferno, from the practical starvation suffered, Abaddon had gorged himself on the creatures and life within the Otherworld. He'd feasted for several days and nights until he felt comfortable, but an archfiend such as he could never be satiated. "Hail Lucifer," teased in greeting, Abaddon offered an empty and teasing smile to his sister; Leviathan, the creature whose vice was violence, even they were not spoiled to the plan to release their siblings from the pits of the Inferno.

“Ah,’ the sound drew out as she watched his haphazard gesture, “I certainly hear that nostalgia is a bit of a fickle bitch.” Perhaps for all of those beyond her. It wasn’t exactly something that had ever pressed concern into the forefront of her mind. Pythia wasn’t one to wonder on past or future endeavors. Taboo, all that she’d offered had always existed in the darkest corners of magic, all those that sought to tether themselves knew the risk. Knew how quickly they’d fall into the realms of pariah among their own people. An inevitability. That hadn’t taken the sharp sting out of the slaughter that he’d suffered. A shame and a waste, even if his soul bolstered the book and her regardless. It seemed as time passed, the commitment of those that pledged themselves to the Asphodel grew less stern. The followers of yesterday were certainly something else. “Between your willingness and the knowledge you bring with you, I’m certain I can find something to do with you. How close are you to the others of your bloodline? The senate?” It’s an immediate thought, and as much as she expects an answer, already she is sifting through ways in which she could use Seth for her own gain. “I have a few witches you can see, they can bolster your enhanced abilities, give you a little more... bite, if you should so wish it.”

fxllenpythia​:

It was a strange thing, to be so connected to so many. To hear so many thoughts and feel the tremor of even their deepest, darkest emotions. However deeply buried they might have been, she felt them, a distant tremor in the base of her skull that she could so easily diminish. To reach out and pull at a single string and watch the entwinement of all who belonged to her and the book unravel within the palm of her hand. Too often, it left her giddy. “Tepiltzin, I was wondering when you’d find your way back to me.” They always did - it wasn’t often that one could experience all that she could offer and find such an infinite way to sever themselves. Greed was a rife poison that lingered in even the most well-rounded of creatures. Without second thought, she moves; each step neither too prominent nor inaudible as she finds herself within reach, fingertips shifting the flesh of his upper lip until she can press the pad of her thumb into the fang that elongates under the will of her own thought, “I’m not sure I like you better this way, but I suppose we shall see, won’t we?” Her vessel bleeds, a bead of crimson growing until it spills onto his lip. Even as one of the fallen, the power she carries stains that of the being she possesses, offering him but a menial taste of what he’d once had. “Is that what this is about? You want to join the band of God-killers?”

          Seth always garnered this irreverent sense. As a druid he was heedless and adamant in his pull to power, betrayed his own family, slaughtered those who looked to him for guidance. It had led him to the Pythia, a gravelly promise whispered into the night of something more, trials toiled away on. “I don’t know,” it’s a frivolous response paired with a careless shrug, he never liked to seem too eager even in light of a greater demon who’d pulled the strings of life and death to slaughter a god. “I just wanted to see if the past was still interesting.” He’d gotten a rather cult following of his druid community, all in lieu of Pythia’s influence, but they’d turned against him, placed him on the blood-soaked slab of concrete to slaughter in retribution. Dedication to Mars was faint, he was a vampire by circumstance not by solidified choice; his sire had offered him the pieces to the puzzle and he’d taken them with interest only spurred by ego. He’d be a weakness if he could not capitalize on newfound abilities bestowed upon him. “I’m not sure what use a vampire would be to you, but here I am regardless.” Seth presents himself on the basis of curiosity, his past was molded and refined by the Necronomicon, it wasn’t necessarily easy to abandon, especially as their influence of followers cropped up again.

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.

@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.”

bensu soral in tuzak

“There always has to be at least one truly unruly child. Admittedly, I should have remembered that you were the closest thing I ever had to that.” Though, she’d always made it quite clear that she wouldn’t always be there - that things beyond her control would always see fit that she could never linger too long while still rising to power. He’d never been devoid of such knowledge. “Oh, they were luckier than they should have been.” Dismantling what remained of the coven in such a way was a rather quick fix, and not exactly what she might have preferred - but time was always of the essence. “Are you not already in my debt, Kaan?” She asked, casting idle curiosity in his direction. “They’ll close ranks. What remains and what they’ll build of the senate, I expect you to be among them. Play nice, for now.”

pythia​.

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?”

-

“Yes, because I should have spent my time pining the loss of you instead of doing just as you would have done.” The words hold no malice, nor any indication other than amusement at her own words. He had spent too many years searching for a means to restore the Asphodel coven, had sacrificed too many in her name in the hopes of retrieving what had been lost. The Narcissus coven, however, had been a means for his own selfish gain. He had slipped into its folds, made a name for himself, and secured the mantle of Sovereign for his own goals. For his own safety. “The other covens were not so lucky, especially the Amaranthus. Color me surprised to receive a message from your oracle prior. Shall I consider myself in your debt then?”

@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?”

Lanfear | The Wheel of Time 2x07

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.