"And What Exactly Would I Need Your Gratitude For?" She Spat, Teeth Bared As Pythia Took In The Form

camila queiroz via instagram

The hunger in her alone could swallow up every God, every woman, every man, every person, the whole universe.

Nikita Gill, from Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths & Monsters (via heavensmark)

LANFEAR | The Wheel of Time - 2.06

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.”

Natasha O'Keeffe + WHEEL OF TIME S2 Bloopers

camila queiroz via instagram

 Proof once more, that those among mortals - humans and creatures alike, remained the hypocritical downfall that would lead to their own ruin. Pythia watched from within his mind as the senate conducted such damning practice that they might otherwise condemn another for. Another wretch among many that she believed highlighted their undeserved coven over this realm. It was certainly enough to draw a sliver of rage into the breadth of her chest. “Not yet, and certainly not if I have anything to do with it.” She muttered as she pulled Dominic further into his own mind - a safe haven where chains did not beguile him.  It felt like years, since she’d done as much for him. Years a captive of the eye had seen her present more often than not within his thoughts, however; his release had been something she needed to see from the outside. A witness to how far they’d twisted him. Admittedly, she’d missed him. “One would think you’d see that I’m not quite done with you yet.” Was he ready? To be both monster and man? His memories returned to him, Pythia knew the collision of the two would warrant a war all it’s own, and yet - “You still have purpose, Dom. When the time is right, I’ll be the one to point you in the right direction.” In her/ direction.

@fxllenpythia​

There was silence, the one that came when a wound was great enough to throw a vampire into that random state of limbo. Or at least, that’s what Dominic thought it was. The Senate could do whatever to him, but there were chains once more, something similar to what he’d known with the Eye. Were they much different? Perhaps not, but a Leech was always put down sooner rather than later. Dominic was pushed beneath something that would limit his power, but he didn’t want to escape. There was a difference, and if he’d truly fought, he would’ve gone down kicking and screaming. There was just a reservation to his fate; a reminder that he was a monster. He didn’t want to be one, however. He used to know love, he used to know friendship – family – until it was torn from him by the eye. Four decades of torture, of pulling him apart, molding him into the perfect hunter of his own kind. And death that he’d carried out – a purpose, until he’d taken his life back. 

She was there, again, standing in front of him, and Dominic lifted his head, the chains gone from around his wrists, his midsection, “Am I dead?” he asked with a barely there smile, the humor not lost on him as he figured he had to be within his head. A voice that was there, that he used to think was fake – “Why are you still bothering with me, Pythia?”

“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?”

fxllenpythia​:

“Undoubtedly.” Pythia quips with ripe confidence, “I couldn’t very will bring all this about and not ensure you all received and invite to the main event now, could I?” It was inevitable. As always. Wherever Leviathan went, whatever cracks in the surface of the world she and her following created, they would find her. One way or another. Destruction would remain the only thing that ever brought the seraphim together - for war, nonetheless. An enticing display with an uncertain end. “What are you to do, Uriel? I’ve already been cast to the depths of hell and crawled my way out. Do you truly believe I could not do so again?” As long as the book remained, Leviathan would linger in the very folds of the world, forever whispering of the gifts she could offer - the power that would forever tether her to this realm. 

“I daresay by now, you’d have already found a way to be rid of me and yet…” Here she stood. Centuries had passed while she pieced together each and every facet of all that would tether her to her immortal state; void of the dangers that might linger the higher she rose to power. “And yet, you hold onto empty threats in the hope you’ll find a way to stop me. How does it feel? To know you’ve fought all this time, and it will amount to nothing at all.”

☨

“You gathered power that does not belong to you.” Uriel shook his head. “Of course you stand there with such unwavering confidence, sister. The other choice would be to be painfully aware that there is only so much time you can spend running and desperately grasping on the strength of others for your own survival.” He scoffed. “You reek with too much arrogance, Leviathan, far too much for someone who has been unsuccessful before.” he sneered. “You are nothing but a parasite. Just as you were before, you will lose and there will be no forgiveness or mercy for what you have wrought on this world. My brethren and our allies will personally ensure it this time.”

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.” 

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..