@arakhor

Içerde / Melek Duman

For all that might have otherwise gone wrong, the darkness of momentary defeat had drawn Leviathan into the shadows. A place that didn't encompass the same disappointment for her that it did for so many. It was, instead, the same constant that the greater demon personified in the eons since tumbling from grace. The same place that those devoted would always find her. In every abyss conjured within themselves seeking something just a little darker - a little more powerful than the last. "Sentimentality doesn't become you, Tepiltzin." The arch of fondness tepid in the corner of her mouth is difficult to miss, there are few among the ranks of the Asphodel - scattered or no, that exist as far more than fodder. The hit she'd taken in lieu of Lilith's plan remained, and likely would for some time. Inevitable. Tiamat's destruction, while somewhat a surprise, had not been unanticipated. How could it, when the darkest beings in existence were brought together? "Your tenacity doesn't go unnoticed, however. A trait I've clearly overlooked in some of the others."

a starter for @fxllenpythia, where: gurl wherever pythia can be idk

The Criminal had survived countless years in his own solitary selfishness, he'd never needed a coven nor a pack of vampires; the once vampire had abandoned his own progeny countless of times and the Asphodel falling apart was a meaningless factor to him. The destruction of the book, however, Python's departure; that was everything to the liche who held onto so little. Such things were the few personal things the liche revolved upon and he'd not let them fade away into this new world that seemed so hellbent on destroying their path of greatness. "I was beginning to become a touch worried," everything he'd ever conquered in life had been under the direction of the greater demon and there was mild relief to find she did not simply fade away into defeat. They'd been destroyed before, a coven reduced to a slim margin of members, but they'd rebuilt from that, and they'd so do again, eventually.

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.”

The presence of another seraphim breeching the otherworld didn’t surpass observation. The subtle feeling that lingered somewhere within the very marrow of her bones as he approached quickly subdued as creatures among them alerted her all the same. He was hers - to torment for however many eternities would allow them, and beyond the reproach of Michael himself, none other dared to wander too close. For whatever fate he may bring down upon them, or to avoid her own wrath; it didn’t matter. He wasn’t welcomed so much as he was lured further into the realm that now belonged to Ayi’ing and Pythia now. Shadows of the forest held her within cold embrace as she watched him call out. Repent the name in which he deserted her so easily, an embodiment that suffered the betrayal of those so willing to cast aside their own brethren for the creation of mortals. “I was wondering when I might next be seeing you, Michael.” Her voice sounds from all directions, an echo that surpasses being as she materialized some feet away from him, “Always so bold. Do excuse the mess, we’re still... renovating.” 

@fxllenpythia​ location: The Otherworld notes: sibling talks

It was foolish to tread so close to Pythia’s temple, to the spires of necromanteion that the aspect knew to be just beyond his reach. This was the Asphodel’s territory, shared with and saddled next to the court of Drow that had come to take over. Beneath his feet Michael could feel the magic of this realm waning, felt it crying out as the drow pillaged the world of the unseen. Michael had been made from the cosmos, crafted for the mortal world, he did not know what sort of repercussions these efforts could have, only that there would be. Still, that was not the purpose for his venture, he’d failed Pythia once - Lucifer along with the others. If he’d been more adamant, or more understanding, perhaps there might have been a way to persuade them. At the time Michael had only seen their treachery, if he had any hope of saving this realm he would need to persuade them to step down, or stop them for good. “Leviathan!” Michael called out into the pitch of the forest, “I know you’re there.” He said, quieter this time. 

The familiar voice caught her a little off guard, though Pythia doesn't know exactly why. The tray of champagne flutes she carries, filled with a soft pink bubbly liquid trembles slightly, though she recovers quickly as she rounds to lay hues on her brother. Hues, that now hold an air or warmth that had otherwise disappeared eons ago. "Michael," A fleeting moment holds ire before its reasoning dissipates just as surely, "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Truly, Pythia doesn't remember the last time that she'd felt so, light - so, unburdened by the tribulations that had so quickly torn her apart and left her rampant for retribution. "Oh," it's something of a surprise, but again, she doesn't truly know why, "let me just..--" Perhaps there's some importance in the tray she carries, unwilling to simply set it down, Pythia isn't comfortable until another server accepts it from her. He wasn't wrong. How long had passed, since the hands of time set them on opposite sides, since they'd seen each other as brother and sister, instead of nothing more than an enemy. "For old times' sake."

@fxllenpythia location: the FUNCTION notes: a rare sentimental moment between these two

Wasted time. That's what all these years amounted to. Michael couldn't remember why he and Leviathan had fallen out, there was a time that they had been close: inseparable, even. They'd fought together for so long, served their father dutifully and faithfully but... For some reason Michael had let time and who knew what else come between him and so many of his other siblings. "Of all the things you and I shared, it's hard to believe that there are still firsts." This masquerade, the gala and all its eccentricities were so distinctly fey. The eladrins would throw their parties in Eden, but they were not for the seraphim to attend. "Dance with me? I feel like we have a lot of time to make up for."

@sacrilcgiovs​ Location: Narcissus House. can she go there? today she can idk

Shadow carried her in the same way a mother carried a child, with certain ease that deduced that form and function were entwined, connected in ways that so many others could never be. Darkness and death became her, and while she was certain he was expecting her, she made no effort to conceal herself from him now. She was everywhere, and nowhere. A voice in his head that did little more than linger. A quiet hum that more often than not, unsettled even the most hardy of her followers before too long. “Do you want to play a game, Kaan Narcissus?” It echoed, bounced off of the recesses of his mind, the tail of a serpent drawing it ever deeper into the depths he carried. Of all the things she’d given him, of all the years he’d wandered, thrived from all she’d promised, and yet - his betrayal was no surprise.  Form took hold and boots clicked loudly against hollowed stone of the house of Narcissus as she caught him within her crossfire with near perfect aim. Fingertips curling tightly around his jaw, “Did you hope I would overlook your little.. blight? Was the immunity the senate granted you all that you could ever hope for?” She smiled, and within it, she holds every twisted, sickening truth of the world, the devil in the details. “Was killing a God not enough for you?”

Fingertips drew gently across rose petals, a perfect parallel to the death left in her wake and for a moment they simply lingered. Another piece of this realm that existed and remained fleeting to those it was gifted to. A single breath slipped between her lips and the flowers before her went up in flames. The harrowing glow of the fire illuminated her features, eerie and near demonic as her brothers voice broke through silent thought. “Hayliel, darling.” Something akin to endearment crossed her features and the flames died out, grave crunching beneath the toe of her boot as she turned to him, “I’ve been wondering when I’d run into you.” Perhaps even looking forward to it, “Getting up to no good is always a little lonely without you.”

closed starter for @fxllenpythia​

It had seemed like ages since he had last seen her. Perhaps it had been, but he did admire the chaos and misfortune that the other brought with them. It made him laugh that there were still some that chose to fuck with her in any capacity. He certainly wouldn’t. If there was a side to be on in this war, he would certainly choose the Pythia’s. There was the fact that he was loyal to the fallen and then there was also that part of him that just wanted to watch the world burn. Hayliel wanted to watch everything Ulthar had worked so hard for to crumble down. That would be so nice to watch unfold. “Sister. You look as lovely as always and up to no good at all.”

Tuzak (3) | 2022

"You doubt me too much, Levent." An inevitable venture of those who had yet to take full advantage of the book holding tightly to their souls. Lucretia, August - even Bastien, and a greater number of them the world over, had taken what was owed for the price of their soul. While others lingered in wait - as if time itself would merely offer gratuitous earnings and she's quickly reminded of the audacity of mortals. "Do you think I haven't considered every outcome? Every possible path that could break? You doubt these so-called, fail-safes, yet not once have you asked the correct questions. You have little fail-safes in place, I have thought of them all."

Levent had weaved his songs of blood and nightmares all around them. It was for their own good, they'd said. Pythia had brought him away from the light so many centuries ago, that now it seemed irrelevant. Part of him wished he had been cut off completely; a drow, easier raised than watching the plans of his own design come forth. "No one is saying I'm tapping out," he couldn't lie, anyway, but his frustrations were always too clear. He thought the resting bitch face would help. Arys, his original name, the one he hid away, felt like weight upon his tongue. His clairvoyance, however, filled him with impending dread. "We have little fail-safes in place, Pythia."

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.”