It Was A Wonder Any Of Them Believed They Could Breathe Within The Confines Of The Coven And She Wouldn’t

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.” 

bensu soral in tuzak

"Thank you," she muttered with a rather coy smirk toying at blood-red lips, "I thought to myself, what kind of aesthetic would Enf find agreeable and here we are." The noted sarcasm in her voice was about as telling as how desperately she aspired to gain his approval. Nevertheless, Pythia had always favored Enfenim and his brother. Those that needed nothing from her - nor the book, and still enjoyed the taste of chaos all the same. "You know I'd never deign myself so low as to concede to such a mortal concept." She rolled her eyes, predictably so, "Although, Arak tells me that the dismal hour of your arrival can once again be chalked up to your inability to surpass the opportunity to speak. Perhaps we should offer our vows below your lynched and skinned corpse," the smile she offers is sickly sweet, a taunting venture that she'd not let slip to threat as she pinpoints a rather sharp point upon the arch, "right there, just for you, darling. Make a night of it."

@fxllenpythia location: home sweet home notes: kiss kiss bang bang “Nice place you have here.” Necromanteion had grown beyond any measure it had held before, tenfold. The infernal book grew in power with every passing moment, the more it devoured, the more it hungered. Enfenim had aligned himself with the sprawling city of New Dis, the great forces that amassed within suited him best, but he had not signed his name in the book. Necromancers all covered power over resurrection, bringing people back from the grave had never interested him. “Where should the wedding be-“ he smiled as he gestured towards one of the arches. “This looks like a suitable place for a set of vows.”

Perfect. He was - rage and all. She moves toward him, crouching to run fine grains of sand through her fingertips and she truly wonders how he would fare with the horrors done to him without the chaos that consumed him now. “You won’t be caged much longer,” in this cell or in his mind, of that she knew almost completely. “I’ll find you, once you’re free.” Her hand brushes his as she rises once more. Her powers offered the capability of returning him to his bloodline, however, while he remained a prisoner of the Senate, there was little she could do without drawing another into the fold. With time, he’d see the streets of Rome again. “But if you need me, just call.” The corner of her lip twitches into something of a smirk and she casts a wink down at the vampire. The illustrious figure in his mind dissipating just as surely as she’d appeared.

fxllenpythia​:

“I’ve seen far worse than your mind,” she states, the edge of humor lingering upon the precipice of her tongue as the corner of her mouth twitches to something that might have otherwise grown to a smile. Nothing about Dominic - in this life or the last was enough to make her shirk away and nor would anything to come. Pythia had seen - felt - committed atrocities far worse, to which there was no true end in sight. Instead, where others saw rot and poisoned beings, worthy of nothing more than to be cast to the depths of sanctimonious punishment, she knew resilience and loyalty beyond all else. The light wasn’t the only place that could curl hope around entwined fingers and draw them closer to the sun.  

Lips pursed as she dug her toes into the warm sand, pivoting in place as he rose to his feet. To some, Selene Carvalho was a fidgeter, never quite capable of remaining still for too long but the serpent that lay beneath simply knew no rest. “We all do when we’re kept from being what we’re destined to become.” And his chains kept him from so much, “What they wish to do won’t fix you. They want compliance and little more. What you’ve become spits in the face of their docile little community they wish to return to and the Eye knows as much; hence why they did what they did.” Haplessly, her tongue slips out across her lip as she narrows hues in reflection of his own, “I know what they’re out to do. I say let them try.” There was little Pythia wouldn’t face; she’d certainly never backed down from a challenge. “What about you, Dominic? If you were to be.. fixed, as you say. What then? What becomes of your anger and rage for the eye? For the senate? For all they’ve done to you?”

-

That had to be true, didn’t it? His mind was a cavern of broken and shattered walls, and Pythia seemingly navigated it easily. Selene, as she’d told him once. Perhaps the name of the body they chose, but this version was nice. He was always trapped, that’s what they always wanted. When he’d been a pirate, free on the open ocean, no one could hold him down. His soul was gone, but he was a free spirit. If he could’ve turned into a bird and taken flight, he would’ve done that as well. Perhaps Pythia had understood that, too. What would happen to his rage? He liked to think it would all disappear, that his anger would be softened, his bloodline and empathy restored. That cambion had unlocked as much, but Dom was simply a pawn for the Eye at that time.

“The rage stays,” he whispered, his fingers curling into the sand, unbridled fury only hidden by the way he gripped the image in his mind. “They pay. I want them to die.” The Eye had done this to him for decades. Tortured him for so many years, starved him, turned him into the Leech that Rome hated. And he’d been so good at it. He loathed the idea, and now he would make them all die. “And the Senate – I don’t give a fuck about them. I hate everything this city is.”

@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?"

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.

Practical Magic (1998)

@sacrilcgiovs​ location: we’re out and about okay 

Although time didn’t exist as such a fickle imminence to Pythia, years had gone by since she’d last set foot upon the cobbled streets of Rome prior to October’s festivities. Every effort to deceive and thwart her brethren's efforts to find them over the centuries depicted the demonic fallen as little more than smoke between the fingertips of a child. And yet, every soul given over to the Necronomicon remained a connection held beyond all else. Seeking out one of the very first of the Asphodel had been akin to spotting blood on a pristine white surface, even amongst the crowd of the marketplace. Thoughts which circled his mind echoing across the void to her own until he just as surely felt her presence. “You’ve been a busy man, Kaan -- Narcissus, is it?” The playful tone in her voice just as easily menacing as she kicked out the wicker chair opposite her, hues barely flickering gesture that he sit. “Let’s catch up, shall we?”

“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.”