“Then I Sincerely Hope It Plagues You. Night And Day.” For Fault, In Her Mind, Did Not Lie With She

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.”

In the end, nothing mattered to her beyond freeing their brethren from the inferno. Lives lost, of the Asphodel or the Senatre forces would all suit her end goal one way or another, the closer they drew to the apex of everything Leviathan would bring to fruition. The world burned, and soon, the gates would open. The disappointment of those within her ranks who sought the moniker of traitor and deserter left a sliver of hurt resting upon her chest that she'd sooner deal with than linger within. While so many damned her to the inferno all over again for all that suffered under her influence, Pythia was only ever guilty of giving people what they wanted. Untold power, influence - the key to immortality. The price to pay was hefty, and those unable to swallow such a blade were better suited as fodder. A weakness that the coven would never tolerate.

Enfenim's presence doesn't shock her; he has always been mischievous. Nosy, and rather impartial to the thought that his brother's place at her side offered him some leniency. Despite the fact that his soul didn't belong to her, he was one among them all the same. Leviathan didn't need to tether the brothers Elandrin to her. As long as the greater demon sought chaos and death, they'd be there. As if the fiery glow of Necromanteion and the stench of death that bled from the battlefield beyond wasn't proof enough. Words spoken against her ear quiver deeply within the corner of a devilish smirk and hues of obsidian glance up at him as he finds a place by her side, "It feels as though it's about time," it seethes through her teeth, in the same way, hot water soothes aching bones, "No matter what they do, they will always lose." People, stability - alliance. It would all disappear within the ash of all that she'd burn around them. "Does this satisfy some semblance of your own desires? The fairy king is tainted, lied to and become new again. It seems as though Ayi'ig did not know all, before that slaughter."

@fxllenpythia location: Necromanteion notes: he said: you're looking even hotter than usual

The destruction was admirable, truly it was. In a matter of time the Allied Senate Forces would breach the walls and begin to pour into the City, that’s when things would truly get interesting. Fighting from the walls had its perks, but after nine days it was stale, Enfenim generally preferred to manipulate from behind the scenes, contrary to Arakhor who was all merciless killing all the time. He’d projected a portion of his consciousness into the mortal realm and watched how so many of his people had started to fall, their pathetic desperation was going to get them all killed. A waste, a hateful waste, if nothing else the exile preferred to be at their side: killing drow and making sure that the fey of significance lived and the fey that were insignificant… Well, died for something at least. 

An empowered greater demon had no option but to be radiant, malevolence and power rolled off of the fallen angel that Enfenim had always known as Leviathan. The liar with many names and faces, the serpent that could find her way through any defence, any plot. Enfenim found Leviathan in her chambers, overlooking the city, his cold hands brushed against her shoulders as he approached from behind. Beautiful and indomitable, winning was her most attractive quality. “How does it feel to be on the cusp of getting everything you ever wanted?” Enfenim asked against her ear before he moved to stand at her side. Loyal to himself first and Arakhor second, he had his own reasons for standing among the Asphodel. All this death was just a plus.

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.”

@lulucretias

"To deadbeat fathers," she laughed manically, the toast neither served within wine glass, nor bottle, but the cage that she drew across the room, filled with druids captured upon the battlefield. Broken, contoured, but alive. "Perhaps you should throw Octavian into the river too," a look of distaste crossed her features fleetingly, as if reliving the memory of something truly disgusting, "I'd have liked to have ended that twink much sooner."

Lanfear | The Wheel of Time 2x07

Only one with precision could envision the gorish nightmares that Bastien forced upon them. Each stringent tether weaves it's way across the battlefield and into the minds of fools that might believe rest would give them an upper hand in strategy, and Leviathan feeds more power through all that connects her to the oracle. "What will they do next?" She doesn't mean to stop him in his tracks, rather two birds with one rather large stone, "Their attempts have been feeble. I don't distrust that they might not have a trick up their sleeve." Elusive as the Asphodel might be, she wasn't foolish to believe that the wretches of this earth and the next couldn't attempt to reciprocate it. "And while you're at it, do tell me what is going on with out dear Levent."

Break them, there was no further encouragement that Bastien would need. He had directed his magic towards his visions, had pulled the sights straight from the hands of the Graeae so that they may lay waste to the city. "With pleasure," came his giddy reply, before he turned his sights upon those that would fall pray. A vision was conjured, brought forth of the decimation that awaited the city of Rome. And into the minds of those that stood against the Asphodel it went. Destruction, bloodshed, torn bodies that scattered the once idyllic streets. He pressed upon them, further and further, until all they could see, think, believe was their approaching demise. It was the eruption of screams that brought the satisfied grin to his lips, that had his eyes closing with a hum at a job well done. "And that was simply a taste."

Alas, Leviathan was only ever where they needed to be at the precise moment necessary, though many could assume it inconvenient, the aspect was forever listening, lying in wait for every opportune moment. As such,, Arakhor's hands warm against her face remained the only thing to somewhat soften features otherwise hardened. However sharp and venomous they remained, slivers of the seraphim - not jaded by betrayal, would always belong to him. "I'd threaten to remove his tongue, but undoubtedly, he'd enjoy it more than I would." She muses, almost entirely to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching to liken a smile, the mild softness she shared with the fey extended so far as to encompass his brother. Her own hand rises, curling around one of Arak's wrists in near comfort, "I thought we'd learned not to allow him so many opportunities to speak." Albeit, amusing, she knew just as well that Enfenim could talk the hooves off of a changeling. "At least you're here now, just in time to see your brethren ally with the Eye of all things," It's almost comical; the threat of the Asphodel would always seemingly force enemies together, but the Eye? The worst of humanity, lording themselves over the creatures they captured - tortured and maimed. It would see more bloodshed, without her ever lifting a finger.

fxllenpythia​:

@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.”

-

The Soratami had fallen at the hands of Ayi’ig, the drow edged closer and closer to their goal, which did not concern Arakhor, though the fall of his race wasn’t exactly his and his brother’s dream. The eladrin within Rome had suffered another loss, each moment they remained in the mortal realm, they were further and further away from their chance at survival. Many fey wandered the Otherworld still, but they, too, fell victim. Once the blood of the firsts, the beings that could do anything if their song and ability willed it, were now reduced to a handful of Chancellors who had done nothing but hope someone else would step up so they wouldn’t have to. Either way, darkness ran in his blood, it was there since he’d attacked Titania’s warder, since he’d watched the queen banish them instead of kill them – she was weak, unable to strike those down who struck against her. Now, he was free. Free to power his magic with blood, free to find himself in the arms of Leviathan, of the one who had found him. 

“You always seem to disappear when everyone is looking for you,” he joked, recognizing the soul in front of him. Leviathan’s form had changed over the years, they’d picked a feminine one this time, and Arakhor grinned as he took her face in his hands, “We were a bit delayed. You know my brother likes to hear himself talk, so we took the long way to Rome.”