@seraphimichael​ Location: We’re In The Colosseum Baby.

@adatiiel​ “You don’t see it as you’re never there at the end of their days, they’re nothing more then collateral damage to you but I am with all of them – there is not a soul that is wiped from this earth that is not known by me” Pythia’s heart had become lost long ago, enshrouded by the darkness that become her being, clouding out what once was good – now she only wanted destruction, darkness and death – Adatiel couldn’t escape her if she tried. The seraphim had been created from the cosmos to fight the first darkness that had blotted out the world and they had been called again to restore the natural order. “I won’t try to convince you to the goodness that exists within humanity, they are flawed and yet they still try to do better – you are not the creator of worlds and we won’t allow you to destroy the world completely” There is only one set of lips that she would listen to an order from, to bring about the end of the world will only be allowed by Ulthar.

The longer she spoke, the more tiring the whole exchange began to feel. The bleeding heart within her sister, however accepting of those she ushered beyond death, surely understood that such a burden could be wiped from her conscience were the mortals no longer upon this earth. Though, neither was Pythia so willing to offer the obvious argument to one who undoubtedly knew as much already. “Blah, blah, blah..” Her nose turned up in impatient disgust at the tirade offered to her, much like all those before. “And their constant attempts for better continue to be a let down, time and time again. How long should they be offered more chances to, as you say, better themselves? Or shall we watch for all eternity as they ponder the gift given to them and you... carry the weight of knowing each of them?” They’re menial, amounting to nothing in her eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve made decisions based on what any of you would allow me to do. It would better ease your disappointment if you simply stood aside.”

@adatiiel​

The smiley face was a clever move, one that brought a hitch of a smile to Adatiel's mouth even as their search turned up empty. Being the angel of death meant that she reaped everyone who fell, allegiance didn't matter when their days came to an end. She wasn't to fight, her hands didn't call for violence as she was the result of whatever came to be. Adatiel often satisfied her whims, whenever she wished to see someone she did. It was why she felt that a conversation with her wayward sister was long overdue. "Are you happy with the wraiths that you trapped within your walls? Spirits that remain and grow in vengeance can become a dangerous weapon. The spirits are very angry with you."

_

Was she? Happy? As if to make crystal clear, Pythia's smile grew to maniacal proportions, the feint giggle that slipped between her lips eerie at best, and horrifying in the shape it took. "Sister, don't take it so personally. If anything, you should be rather grateful that I led you right to them. The pesky little things." Those that lingered within the walls, wraiths that screamed endlessly, clawing at every sense of humanity that remained, every ounce of their blood riddled empathy had risen as a symphony in the halls of the Asphodel. "Angry? At me?" The pout that settled against porcelain skin feigned innocence that would never look quite right, "Then consider their anger a gift, in the efforts you and the rest of them should make to try and stop me. I daresay, you'll need it."

_

"I don't need your help to find the dead" what ego but Pythia did always carry one, spirits have always beckoned her and she is the angel that is there in the last moment of life. Adatiel was to not be confused with a guardian angel as she did not protect nor decide who lived and died, merely knew when their time had come to an end, when the hourglass had finally run out. Those that died while being tormented or moments of great emotional impact became wraths. As someone who holds death and life in equal care, it is difficult for the seraphim to accept such cruelty. "I wish to hear it from your lips sister, tell me how you wish for this to all end. Do you really wish for darkness to blot out the world?"

_

“No? You’ll have to forgive me for my lacking faith in your.. abilities.” For a millennia, so many of her kind - their kind had done little more than squalor their potential. Bending to the whims of a father who cared for lesser creatures before his own children. Sighing heavily, something more of contentment than anything else, the Pythia smiled quietly to herself. “And why shouldn’t it?” Tongue clicked against her teeth and the brunette eyed the other with irate mischief, cold and calculating - unyielding. “Because daddy dearest said so? They’ve done little but squander the world given to them. Destroyed and plundered a place they’ve never sought to earn. I say, - burn it all to hell.”

 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?”

End this. As if choice were a gift unto herself. No longer did such desire to see the mortal world end offer itself a decision she made on her own. A champion of those long gone who wished for only what they were owed - what was promised. Those cast into shadow, beaten down in borish effort to carve their wishes into the very seams of blasphemy itself. “Does it not ache, to want something that should be so easy, only to have it stripped away from you, Michael?” She asked, rather pertinently. “You do not wish to fight me, and yet you have never stopped. How many of us have you murdered?” The blessed had always held the upper hand. Whatever playing ground the seraphim had raged war on, the fallen never held the favor of their father and in Leviathan’s mind, it was exactly that which should have forced reason into the golden hands of the blessed. “Why? What gives you conscience enough to plead with me now? Does it weigh heavy, knowing you and you alone, have carved what could have been a menial disagreement into the beginning of the end?”

fxllenpythia​:

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.” 

-

Stood before him the words that Michael wished to conjure wouldn’t come to him. The seraphim was not an expert when it came to expressing regret, or hope, these mortal conventions felt beyond him in this regard but so many of their brethren hung over his head now that he had no other recourse. To look upon Leviathan was to remember the millennia of war that they’d fought together, the cacophony of divinity that rained down upon them, dripped in blessed ichor as Michael stepped over the bodies of his own siblings to push forward. His only hope was that Leviathan was as tired of the losses as he was. Crimson divinity was seeped into Michael’s flesh, try as he might his hands would never come clean. “End this, Leviathan.” They worked with their oldest enemy now, a God responsible for the deaths of so many of their kind. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

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. 

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?”

Practical Magic (1998)