“Everything Comes With A Price,” An Utterance That Had Gone Unspoken For So Long Between Them. Python

It was a wonder any of them believed they could breathe within the confines of the coven and she wouldn’t know about it. The entirety of the Otherworld now beneath the ruling of Levithan and Ayi’ig left little to be considered, and yet, she’d allowed Eric to continue believing that his intention existed within the darkened confines of his own mind, that alone. The heated drink she held in her hand - something otherwise wickedly sweet where bitterness existed in the very fingertips that burned with it, a small comfort in an almost domestic setting for her. “You’re going?” She sat up a little straighter, a crease forming between narrowing brows, how bold of him. Better had he tried to slip out unseen; perhaps she might have even commended him for such gall. “Where will you go, Eric?” Where will you go that I can’t find you? “There’s still so much more to do, don’t you at least want to see the next step come to fruition before you tuck tail and run?” While innocence lacquered each word, it was impossible to miss the subtle venom that existed beneath. “I’d hate for you to regret your decision.”

          a gift for @fxllenpythia​,

notes: honey you’ve got a big storm comin’

          Eric’s anxiety and inquietude tended to push them to do regrettable things. Joining the Asphodel had been one of them, but announcing his departure to the Greater Demon ruling over said coven? Astronomically one of said decisions. They had few remnants of their personal items hanging around within the coven, those were all moved away discreetly after returning from Knossos and feeling that palpable sickness in their gut at what had went down. Reliably, loyally, sworn to the book in their own way of obligation they’d done what was expected of them and were now rife with guilt and the need to flee. A typical and rather visceral reaction of the Exile. “Hey, so, I don’t know what I expected but, I’ve done my part and it’s time for me to get going,” their words are embedded with flippant sarcasm, especially in the face of a venerated creature who was strengthened by the sacrificial blood of others, Eric couldn’t find it in themselves to tame their fear-induced lip.

@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?”

“The truth is that I’ve cared for this world far longer than anyone else.” After all, she’d been one of the first to take up arms against those that would see the world they now occupied, as belongings to the weakness of human kind. She’d witnessed the destruction they’d wrought upon it as they plundered the precious realm and behaved as if it was there to serve them, and not the stark opposite. “What I don’t care for, is those that have done nothing but tarnish it in every possible way. Human kind, and all that followed, is a blight upon the earth.” It had been created as a paradise, a place that would mimic the divine realm in ways so few could see, and yet it had been left to squander. Their brethren condemned to an eternity of pain and suffering for wanting to protect something so precious. All that they’d been promised, rotting deep into the core of all that it was. “Michael and Uriel, they worship and admonish all others to follow the orders of our father as if that would convey whatever love they might have once felt for him, when in truth, allowing Titania and her barbaric creatures to inherit this earth, was the first act of defiance, not ours. And yet we are marked as the traitors.’

fxllenpythia​:

“I have long since considered what I might do if I ever faced him again, Roth.” For what felt like eons, she’d likely have done anything to draw even a glimpse of Ulthar’s immediate sense of presence but something so personal had long since slipped through her fingers of desire. Instead, the only thing left was to destroy what he loved the most. The realm they currently occupied earning the majority of their fathers love and respect since the day he cast them all aside. Offering the perfect world to those who would do nothing more than pick it apart and taint it to ruin. So, ruin she would give him. “Now, he could stand before me and beg, and I’d want nothing more than to flay him along with the others. If the world we were promised cannot be ours - he can have it returned to him, in dust and ruin.” 

          Uriel had come forward to Roth, pleading of some alliance to defeat Leviathan, to ensure a world he suddenly found so precious could be preserved. The Conquest had always looked upon the mortals with disdain and the Ira’s curiosity had been whetted as to why the sudden change. It was inevitable to grasp upon humanity once immersed in this realm, Roth had done so himself, living a mundane life until the Blessed and Leviathan brought forth the fumes of a war once more, a vicious cycle, but one that was to be expected. “You care for nothing in this world?” It was void of contempt, only that same curiosity they had in lieu of Uriel and Michael, how brothers once carved to be purely a weapon were now brimming with compassion and mercy. Leviathan often seemed to drift mysteriously throughout her actions, allowed her little Coven to stir up most of her ruinous work and they wondered what Leviathan’s idle hands were truly preoccupied with.

LANFEAR | The Wheel of Time - 2.06

Perfect. He was - rage and all. She moves toward him, crouching to run fine grains of sand through her fingertips and she truly wonders how he would fare with the horrors done to him without the chaos that consumed him now. “You won’t be caged much longer,” in this cell or in his mind, of that she knew almost completely. “I’ll find you, once you’re free.” Her hand brushes his as she rises once more. Her powers offered the capability of returning him to his bloodline, however, while he remained a prisoner of the Senate, there was little she could do without drawing another into the fold. With time, he’d see the streets of Rome again. “But if you need me, just call.” The corner of her lip twitches into something of a smirk and she casts a wink down at the vampire. The illustrious figure in his mind dissipating just as surely as she’d appeared.

fxllenpythia​:

“I’ve seen far worse than your mind,” she states, the edge of humor lingering upon the precipice of her tongue as the corner of her mouth twitches to something that might have otherwise grown to a smile. Nothing about Dominic - in this life or the last was enough to make her shirk away and nor would anything to come. Pythia had seen - felt - committed atrocities far worse, to which there was no true end in sight. Instead, where others saw rot and poisoned beings, worthy of nothing more than to be cast to the depths of sanctimonious punishment, she knew resilience and loyalty beyond all else. The light wasn’t the only place that could curl hope around entwined fingers and draw them closer to the sun.  

Lips pursed as she dug her toes into the warm sand, pivoting in place as he rose to his feet. To some, Selene Carvalho was a fidgeter, never quite capable of remaining still for too long but the serpent that lay beneath simply knew no rest. “We all do when we’re kept from being what we’re destined to become.” And his chains kept him from so much, “What they wish to do won’t fix you. They want compliance and little more. What you’ve become spits in the face of their docile little community they wish to return to and the Eye knows as much; hence why they did what they did.” Haplessly, her tongue slips out across her lip as she narrows hues in reflection of his own, “I know what they’re out to do. I say let them try.” There was little Pythia wouldn’t face; she’d certainly never backed down from a challenge. “What about you, Dominic? If you were to be.. fixed, as you say. What then? What becomes of your anger and rage for the eye? For the senate? For all they’ve done to you?”

-

That had to be true, didn’t it? His mind was a cavern of broken and shattered walls, and Pythia seemingly navigated it easily. Selene, as she’d told him once. Perhaps the name of the body they chose, but this version was nice. He was always trapped, that’s what they always wanted. When he’d been a pirate, free on the open ocean, no one could hold him down. His soul was gone, but he was a free spirit. If he could’ve turned into a bird and taken flight, he would’ve done that as well. Perhaps Pythia had understood that, too. What would happen to his rage? He liked to think it would all disappear, that his anger would be softened, his bloodline and empathy restored. That cambion had unlocked as much, but Dom was simply a pawn for the Eye at that time.

“The rage stays,” he whispered, his fingers curling into the sand, unbridled fury only hidden by the way he gripped the image in his mind. “They pay. I want them to die.” The Eye had done this to him for decades. Tortured him for so many years, starved him, turned him into the Leech that Rome hated. And he’d been so good at it. He loathed the idea, and now he would make them all die. “And the Senate – I don’t give a fuck about them. I hate everything this city is.”

The laughter that split Pythia's features was maniacal, at best. This creature before her lording his loyalty to some overwhelming standard as if she'd asked for it in the first place. "Dearest Pluto," she chided, as a mother over a petulant child, 'this has everything to do with your beloved." Tiamat - Kore. The dread Persephone, the one who pieced together the beginning of the end. "And if you truly understood all that she desires, loyalty wouldn't be part of the equation. Her will would be yours." This would be what he sought too. "You may have helped pull me from the inferno, helped pieced together the foundation of the asphodel and hold her close, but I do not need your loyalty - because I have hers."

closed starter for @fxllenpythia location: Necromanteion (pre-battle)

For once he was alone with Pythia, no guard, no other witness to their discussions. While he'd known the infamous Pythia for some time now, their relationship was superficial at best, with both of them loyal to Kore. So, while he didn't trust her practices and her personally, he was forced to play nice. Attacking the other leader was impossible, with Kore being a part of him so much had changed and he knew he had to make sure the Pythia knew just how much power resided within him. "Kore," he simply stated, his posture relaxed, almost too relaxed before a war like this. "This has nothing to do with either of us and I'll not swear my loyalty to you."

“You forget, brother,” Pythia spat, unwilling to allow him the space to belittle her - to discredit the work she’d done and assume her blind to all else. Would she have made it this far, had she underestimated those that would see her gone? “Nothing is as it was before.” The Asphodel held the upper hand - the death of a God, the Druids in mourning, and the truth of what would befall this city - this realm, still to come to light. The fact of the matter was - and always would be, the blessed cared to much for all that it would cost to prevent her from bringing about the end. It was how they were built; pieced together by their ever careless father to believe that what they held in their hearts mattered, when so clearly they’d been shown otherwise. 

Her tongue clicked loudly against the back of her teeth, the smirk that formed coiled around it in sardonic nature as she cast a coy look up at him. “The only cage will be yours, perhaps I’ll do a better job of locking it behind you than Apollo did for me.” And with little more than the blink of an eye, her form dissipated into shadow, the coiling tail of a serpent twisting the darkness until it too disappeared.

/end

fxllenpythia​:

“Oh, but it does.” She quipped back rather happily, “I have not had to take everything I have, despite what you and the others may seek to believe.” Numerous, were the number of those who had handed over their power to further bolster her own. The book and all they offered was not all tainted. “Why should I not be confident, brother? You are in a tailspin, and the fact that you can only lecture me now is more than enough proof.” Saccharine, her tone fell, thick and sweet as honey as it dripped; lacquering each word like tar. “And yet here I stand, despite it.” Despite the inferno that her own siblings had left her to, “I have not suffered forgiveness nor mercy from you for an eternity, I certainly don’t seek it out now, nor shall I. Who exactly are you trying to convince, Uriel?”

☨

“You underestimate the powerful forces building up against you day after day, sister… hubris will be your downfall, as it was before and as it will be.” Uriel smiled coldly, far too tempted to tell her that knew of a way to destroy the Necronomicon. For the first time, the idea was a tempting thing. Otherwise, he knew if he got involved with the process he would lose everything… Either him or Michael would. For Uriel wouldn’t allow their younger Blessed siblings to get involved.

“Go, return to your corrupted minions, Leviathan. I tire of looking at this false face of yours. When you’re finally ripped from this small vessel and thrown back into the cage where you belong… that will be the only time I will hope to see you again.”

3,000 years pass and I'm back to this.

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.”