@adatiiel​

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. 

It's nearly impossible to look beyond the irony in what Pluto claims. This, temporary essence he seems to believe she holds. "I have laid witness to every betrayal this realm and all others has had to offer. Fought a war of Old Gods, twice now. Clawed my way out from the inferno, a cage my own father and siblings decreed, only to sit upon a throne revered by demonic forces this world has never seen. You want to talk to me about love and loyalty?" The sound that slips through curling lips is defiant, a haphazard brush-off, his bitterness little more than a childlike tantrum in her eyes. "This world doesn't need to be mine to take." Of course, not all plans would always play out in the way desired, but the archfiend was nothing if not resourceful. "Do you not understand yet, dear pluto? I am violence and that is the only promised thing in this temporary existence you cling to. Your bitterness would be better suited to a toddler." Her laugh is ethereal, tainted with the determination that this set-back would fuel her with. "Suffer the heartbreak, if it were me, you betrayed, your penance would have been far worse. Perhaps Kore's leniancy," if it could truly be called that, "will give you back your bite."

closed starter for @fxllenpythia location: Colosseum

He'd been broken apart by his love, shaped into what felt like an entirely different person. Rome had changed, so did the people within. But even if they did Pluto could be sure of one thing: the Pythia. An everlasting menace, a crownless emperor without their little book. As he stood next to them, the respect he'd harbored for the sovereign had vanished into thin air. Exhausted yet triumphant, he'd somewhat prevailed even though he'd lost Ezekiel and a huge chunk of himself next to the support of so many. A man of eternal solitude, he looked to the other sovereign with both pity and curiosity. "This world isn't yours to take. We're all temporary. Loyalty and love are temporary." He had his hands folded behind his back, his stance somewhat relaxed, "be lucky most don't remember what happened. We'd do better without these memories as well."

Lanfear | The Wheel of Time 2x07

@bloodxlevent

"I can all but hear your frustrations, Levent." Pythia's voice echoed the room, as though they were everywhere, and nowhere all at once. Just as they had eyes in all places. Though his devotion certainly hadn't sought to fail, there was undoubtedly something keeping him at bay. "You've certainly missed the opportunity to tap out," as if the punishment brought down upon Kaan was an indication at all, "but you might as well have your say now, so I can figure out what to do with you now."

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.

There is always defectors, those unable to handle the power and weight that the asphodel offers. It has never carried a moniker for misfits and miscreants in the way that so many consider it. It was not a comfort that home could not give - the asphodel was a want, a dire need and for those who lacked the impervious determination to build something of themselves, would always fall through the cracks. Fodder for the book. Pythia had heard the whispers - the thoughts that spun within Marcella's mind and while Eric turned his back, true that he would never rise to be enough, the witch before her was a different story. "The darkness will always follow.." She whispers, barely audible as she looks upon the young woman. "It will never be me, that's in need, Marcella." One way or another, the book would find her again - in death, or to return the gift of power she now sought to turn away from.

Person: @fxllenpythia Location: Haus Asphodel She is packing and she thinks everyone knows it. Thankfully everyone is busy enough minding their own business. That's something they all seem really keen on doing, it should have been a sign from the beginning. They all come together to cause chaos but she has seen time and time again how each member of the coven seems to have their own agenda, their own ambitions. She's got her own agenda and staying with the Asphodel isn't going to help her one bit, not anymore. Marcella is gathering her things, some books and tucking them away into a bag of holding when she catches a shadow darkening her door, one that makes her nearly freeze. The Pythia is someone she has skirted around, someone with far too much power. "Did you need something?" It's an innocent question, it is soft, she is not afraid, not so much anymore.

@arakhor

"It is done," those upon the summit had played their part, the first piece of all they needed falling into place as she felt the legions of followers and their power run through her, "For now." The assault from above would continue while two of her most trusted missives worked from below; soon the seals would be broken. "I trust you and your brother have filled the cages, what now, can I give you my love?" All those who offered their soul - their power to Python were given that which they desired, even if it was deemed costly, but for the exiled elandrin, she herself would suffer the cost should she need to. "Do you wish to join the Drow in their siege of the forest?"

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.”

open to: asphodel coven members @senatusstarters​ location: asphodel house

“We won’t be able to hide from them for much longer.” Nor, in her mind, did she believe they should. Given she’d announced their location, invited them to their front door, that still didn’t give rise to the identities of her accomplices. A fickle detail. Alas, the brevity of human life itself undoubtedly increased their need for self preservation, their devotion one of the many threads that kept her here. The moonlight that shone brightly upon the terrace warmed her like sunlight; the depth of night itself enough to bring a near maniacal laugh to her lips. “They’ll try to infiltrate, pick us apart one by one,” a tactful approach that would only parallel all previous attempts to destroy the Asphodel for good; if only they were so attune to the Methodist act of devotion and the level of depravity the coven itself represented.  Still giddy with the meager city wide retribution that had come to pass some months prior, Pythia balanced precarious upon the tiptoes of her latest vessel, turning the page of the Necronomicon as the blood sacrifice of their newest took hold. The blessed wouldn’t be far behind. “They’ve gone far too quite far too quickly, don’t you think?” Enough to whet her appetite just barely.