A Sentiment They'd Shared For Centuries, Undoubtedly. Disappointment Was Not Something He Ever Offered

sacrilcgiovs​:

where. the new asphodel home when. a few days after who. @fxllenpythia​

“I see you’ve wasted no time settling in,” he stated with an easy air of superiority, which came long before he ever donned the title of Sovereign, or Senator, for that matter. Though, when it came to Pythia, it would never have mattered, for despite his show of titles, everything he had ever earned for himself was at the benefit of her. “Shall I find your little oracle to thank, or would my gratitude fall to you?”

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?”

“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.

“Then do it.” It’s spoken as if she’d drawn it directly from the void within her. It’s empty and holds nothing but callous intent. She would watch him burn for all he’d condemned them to; whether by choice or blind loyalty. Once a revered general among divine armies, Leviathan existed upon the purity of orders. Of war and all that it stood for. Winning conquest was to be rewarded - and ultimately, peace was all she’d wanted. That, and all that was promised to her - to them. All that she’d fought for, stripped from the offering and once again, they were asked to kneel. Did he so easily forget who she’d been? What she’d been without the blood and death? This was not all she was; but it was what they’d forced her to become. “No, you can’t change the past, and nor can I simply forgive and forget.” And now she existed purely out of spite. “ I will never forgive you.” For all that could be said about her - cold, callous and heartless. The spire that each empty emotion was carved from, Leviathan could be all and more but one did not linger so violently in a world that sought to tear her down without first finding a level of care and determination that solidified her desire to accomplish what was necessary. She would not grieve for those given this realm without first understanding how precious it had been; but for all those who fell - who fought to hold and cherish this world, she had never once stopped mourning. She felt that ache with every moment that passed. Hues narrowed at the incessant audacity he had to even attempt such an approach, and meager footsteps drew her closer as she took in the sight of someone she once admired and revered above all, finding no sense of familiarity anymore “ -- You are no brother of mine.”

fxllenpythia​:

“Then I sincerely hope it plagues you. Night and day.” For fault, in her mind, did not lie with she - nor those who had fallen. Rather with their father and all those who sought to use force against them to begin with. “I hope everything you have, falls to the same inferno that you damned us to.” And truly, she would like to see noone suffer more than Michael himself. Perhaps an eternity before, such a confrontation would prickle emotion hot enough for tears to spring to life, for something to catch in her throat, but long gone were her reservations about how she might feel coming face to face with them once more. “I do, because nobody else is willing to.” Willing to fight for what was rightfully theirs - to carve their own fathers betrayal into the flesh of the world poisoned because he saw greater perfection in creatures no more worthy than the dirt they walked upon. “Everything I have suffered - we have suffered, is because of this realm. These people. These creatures that would have Ulthar turn from us. Betray us so fervently. Do not stand there and accuse me of being a puppet when all you have ever done, is bend to the will of another. When was the last time you considered how this realm, and all others, would be if you hadn’t bent the knee in blind faith to one who would never offer you the same loyalty?”

-

“If it would turn you from this course, I’d walk into the fire myself.” Leviathan had destroyed themself for this goal, Sathanas, Astaroth, Leviathan - the list of the damned generals went on. Michael had torn the grace from even more, had returned countless to the cosmosand in that action he’d called himself righteous. His sibling levelled their anger upon him and was justified in doing so, so much pain for one decision, for refusal that their divine father had taken as a slight. The army that had won so much for him had lost its use if they were not willing to serve in complete, blind obedience. “I cannot change the past, Leviathan.” Michael wouldn’t dwell on what could have been or what should have been, all that could be done was to press forward. He’d once begged his father to let him descend upon this realm so that he could cut down the fallen, and if there remained no other course: he would do exactly that. “I’m asking you,” sincerity rang in Michael’s eyes, “as your brother: don’t do this. Walk away.” 

“Loyal? No kidding.” She deadpans without a moments pause, “You’re all far too busy sniffing each others asses to be anything but, I understand the concept.” Her followers mimicked loyalty just as surely in their path to power until it became an obsession; in her mind, Lycan’s spared just as little humility than some of those that called to her. “Yes, yes - you’re angry, it’s you, not him, I’d say your breath must smell like his shit with how adamant you sound.” Yet, should another come to take their new Alpha’s place, Pythia didn’t doubt those within this Lupo pack would shift loyalty just as easily. “What do you think will happen if the senate and the eye manage to do away with little old me and the Asphodel?” She shifted, pressing her elbows onto the table between them, propping her chin up with her hands, “Tiamat forbid, they manage, what hope in hell do you believe your pack has?” It was a risk, but truly, Pythia was only considering a bolster of sorts, another contingency among many. 

fxllenpythia·:

Awash with the sense of his own weariness, Pythia struck and drew the very air from his lungs, the heat of hellfire rippling against his insides; it’s a flicker of irritation, but one she doesn’t cling to and quickly it dissipates. “You grow weary of questions, and yet you have barely lived through a single life. Spare me the dramatics, would you?” There’s something buried within the tone of her voice that coveys everything from the inferno; a depth of gracelessness that offers him only one chance to redirect his patience. “No, sparky. I’m not talking out of my ass. Perhaps you’ve not truly thought this through. Does tearing the Eye down not draw all of you directly into their conniving arms, Serkan? You cannot hope to pick them off one by one, there are too many. Destruction of such a far-stretching and interwoven institution does not come easy, and it certainly doesn’t come from one who was little more than a lab rat. All he offers you is anger.” Of which, the wolves already had far too much of. “I’m aware of what they do. I also know that changelings are not exactly a delicacy that is easy to come by, and charging your way into the otherworld is only asking for trouble.” She should know - afterall, the creatures the drow held control over and the asphodel themselves sought to fortify the other realm in ways none would ever see coming. “But, should you require more than a mere handful…” Hues rolled into the back of her skull and a blooming laugh flit from her lips like butterfly wings - soft and gentle, “Were I to make an enemy of you, you’d already be dead so, choke that bark of yours right back down and work with me.”

It had not been a good idea to have this conversation. She had far more power than he could ever dream of having and it was in his best interest to make sure he got away from the Pythia as soon as possible. Every word spoken, every action she made would have dire consequences for him. Serkan often spoke without thinking of what could happen to him in return. It was something he knew would need to be worked on, but that moment had not come right now. No, instead he had simply pushed her buttons to the point where it had the air leaving his lungs, irritation forming within his body for a mere moment before it was gone. It made him feel weak, but this was someone that could kill him in a second if given the chance. The fact that she hadn’t yet was…well, it was surprising. Clearly, she wanted to prove something to him. The lycan was hardheaded though. “Lycans are loyal, you know. I’m not sure if you know that concept all too well, but it means that I will not manipulate him based on this theory that you have. And that anger you think he’s offering me? It’s not from him. I’ve been angry for a long time. This didn’t start because of his ascent to the top.” Whatever Alek offered would be done. Serkan had made it his duty to keep an eye out on the alpha and make sure he wasn’t caught with his pants down at any moment in time. She had a lot to say though and he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t listening to all of it. “Work with you?” Eyes closing, a thought flitted through his mind before it was gone just that fast. “What do you want from me? What could I offer you that you could possibly want?”

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.

@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?”

camilaqueiroz: ❤️‍🔥

augustcavaliere​:

“No, no we won’t.” The senate would establish order in the city once more, their enemies would align, and then they would come for the coven. The Asphodel had invited them here and whether the senate knew it or not, they’d play right into their hands. “But, who’s hiding?” August asked rhetorically as he fixed his gaze upon the Pythia with equal parts awe and amazement, “I leave tomorrow to perform my final rite, effective immortality, my final pledge to the necronomicon.” The cost was substantial, so many lives would go noticed at a time like this, August had no choice but to perform it elsewhere away from the prying eyes of the senate and the marshals who would stand to intervene.

August had stood proudly at the Pythia’s side along with the Egotist and Lucretia when the Asphodel had proclaimed themselves responsible for the massacre at Halloween and devotedly sided with the architect who’d bring about the destruction of the status quo. Good. The witch had come to Rome to seek vengeance for his disappeared father, but in Erik’s absence he found only dead whispers and broken promises - Pythia had found him as a broken ruined thing and together they’d reunited the shattered necronomicon alongside the others.

There was no act that the witch would not throw himself into on the Pythia’s behalf, where there were some who may have doubted their supremacy August had always known the power behind the figure. From childhood’s hour Python had guided his hand, his blade, his magic, when he was cornered it was blood that had set him free. “The blessed… Their presence.” August had felt their arrival within the city, it was unmistakable. “How can we destroy them?” They had undoubtedly come here to put an end to their plans, to put an end to the Pythia, something August would never allow.

Still, the wickedness in her smile grew. Dripping with venom with the premise of a tantalizing sweetness as movements of a dancer drew her nearer the witch. Undoubtedly, she knew that none of them were so willing to hide any longer. The rise of the Asphodel was monumental; bringing about a world in those she sought after would no longer be forced to remain hidden. A world unto chaos. “Luckily, they’re fools and won’t notice their mistake until they’re already within our grasp.” Fickle, the minds of protectors - too busy with the offence to consider proper defensive strategy. It was, after all, how all else had fallen into their very laps. August had spoken to her many times about the ritual, about all it required and all that could come of it. The greatest of sacrifices to the Necronomicon - to her and the Goddess of True Death. Delicate features relegated his own now, silken tresses shifting as she tilts her head and reaches to brush fingertips beyond his ear, “I’ll be with you.” Regardless of where she was - she would be with all of them come their final rite.

Every so often; the turn of the century would bring to her a being or two that held a special place among those that served. Those that personified every ounce of fury and malice that she carried with her - born of Ulthar’s betrayal and Leviathan’s fury - August Cavaliere was one of those. “The Necronomicon knows’ what’s in your heart, I know you.” Far lesser men had sold their soul in it’s entirety. With frail drive and hollow machinations - but not August. “I look forward to seeing you upon your return.” In helping him to understand the full extent of the power it granted him; all that he could wield and all that he could burn in her stead. For all he’d given, her guidance and protection was deserved. “We’ll have much to discuss.” It was a feeling that he would undoubtedly come to recognize, where one followed - the rest were sure to follow, those tasked with hunting down the fallen and all those that stood in their way would not take lightly to Pythia’s resurgence. “I was wondering when you would begin to feel them. You must remember it, August. How it felt.” Too many would see him as little more than an outreach of her own power; and they’d be right. As long as the Asphodel continued to grow in power; so would she. “They can be banished, given the right tools and those willing to participate.” However, “Destroying one doesn’t come so easily, unfortunately.” Lips pursed tightly together and ran her tongue across her teeth indignantly, “The only way is with a seraph blade, wielded only by the divine themselves.” 

bensu soral in tuzak