Pythia Understood Very Well, That The Greater Number Of Seraphim Would Undoubtedly Take The Chance To

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 was irreverent glee that carved the saccharine smile upon her features. As selfishly driven as the greater demon may have been, even Pythia understood the feeling of pride when one of her own converts found gain and pleasure upon the covens resolves. "Undoubtedly, there'll be more to come," a glass raised, the blood of her brethren, "I wouldn't worry too much about that. Suffering, we have plenty of, and should all our plans come to fruition, there'll be no end to it for those like Octavian."

"Hell yeah, I'll cheers to that." And she really had nobody to thank but the Pythia for helping her with this. Lucretia had felt lost for a very long time before the aspect had spoken into her ear of the necronomicon. Power was something she had always been desperate to have. And now here she was wielding it with no real drawbacks. Hell, she'd been able to steal power from Octavian, too. It sure didn't get better than seeing him just a vulnerable man. "That would be nice, but I'd love to see him suffer here just a bit more. Male suffering gives me energy coffee could only dream of giving to me."

“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?”

fxllenpythia​:

 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.

-

The cell was quiet, most of the prison perhaps empty after the great jail break during Halloween. But the Aspect themself was powerful; this wasn’t the first time he’d met them. Another body, another life. It seemed like a fever dream, one that Dominic was pulling himself out of slowly. At least the burning hunger went away when he saw Pythia, when he saw their form in front of him. “You make me wish I would’ve cleaned up,” it was an attempt at a joke, his humor a bit rusted and jagged now. He looked down at his hands, clenching them together for a moment.

He felt a warm breeze hit his back, sand beneath where he was kneeled on the ground. An illusion, but still a sense of freedom. Perhaps it would hurt more when he was ripped from this fever dream; when the Pythia would fade away, when her voice would be all that was left. “I feel like a fucking mess,” he admitted, pulling himself up to his feet now. She was there, and Dominic idly wondered how long it would be until he was free from the Senate. Until he could stand in front of her once more. “They’re going to try and fix me.” Take the leech out of him; return him to his Mars bloodline, “It’s all I fucking want. I can’t live like this. It’s not living. The Eye – they’re out to get you. The Asphodel.”

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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)

camilaqueiroz: ❤️‍🔥

As her name flit through the mind of another, Pythia cracked out the ache in her neck with a rather jarring twist of her jaw. All in a days work, she supposed as the pull towards the other became something ethereal. A plea more than anything, as were all those seeking her out so reverently. Nobody chose to walk the path towards her without wanting something dire - power, revenge; death. It bled from their every whim and just as she’d expected, the air was so thick with it, she could taste the sweetness in the air. “Then you’ve been missing out for your entire life, Abel.” Ire doesn’t beseech her in being summoned this time, there are some who call to her who are hardly worth the price of their own soul, and yet - she knows that this one will cater to the necronomicon and herself in time.  Laughter splits concerning lips and Pythia presses her shoulders into the wall she rests upon, drawing herself to full height as she picks at dust within the air, “I’d argue that you’ve needed my help for a very long time, yet you’ve never quite made it this far before, have you?” Always toeing the line so readily blurred by those of his kind. The destruction so often molded from the skeletal foundations of blood magic only satisfied by those who could talk their way out of it’s damnation. Confident steps drew her closer until she could draw the chair out opposite him, plopping herself into it like a child as she lent forward and placed her chin in her hands, the sickly scent of his blood permeating satisfaction within her. “Tell me everything and don’t leave out a single detail,” she paused, hues narrowing for a moment before a saccharine grin split her features, “I’ll know if you do.”

          a gift for @fxllenpythia​,

          Abel’s relationship with the Pythia was complicated. He’d offered sustenance for the magic that kept them present in this realm a myriad of times in his adolescence, bad decisions spurred on by a mentor who was drunk off of the potent blood magic that the Pythia had devised. He hadn’t touched it since his last Sovereign had been taken out and it had taken a lot out of Abel to have tapped into such channel again to save Cain form the pits of the Inferno after he’d been banished on Halloween. The guilt feasted upon him with ease, this pitfall effect that opened doors that had once been brandished shut. Blood magic had this innate pull and ever since the seraphim had transformed his familiar into a human, Abel had already been attempting to delve into such magic again; a dark path that he only hoped would salvage Cain. Some believed becoming human would be a blessing but Cain had been a demon so long he figured Cain would not vie to be bound to such a mundane life once more.

A summoning of the Pythia was easy, light work considering all that Silas, his former sovereign and pseudo-parent had taught him. The Pythia used such potent magic to amplify their presence on this mortal plane but like any demon, he could note the ways they leeched off of emotion and need, too. “I’ve been avoiding this my entire life.” It’s started off the moment the summoning proves successful, Abel drumming his fingers on the table he sat in front of, a cloth now covering his bloodied hand. “But I think I might actually need your help for once.”

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.”

"Unfortunately," Pythia murmurs, setting her sights upon the city that hails itself beyond the glass window. Riddled with the gifts of freedom that should have rightfully been theirs. A world subjugated by mortals and torn from the fingertips of all those fallen. "They think I'm done." It burns white hot within the pit of Levithan's chest, for it's far from over. White knuckles protrude as she cast a menial glance at Mammon upon his approach, "I offered a choice," albeit, a terrible one at that, it was the archfiend's olive branch. "And this is what they chose, this... pitiful, vile existence." Violence, she'd cast across the realm; scintillated pockets across Rome, a blink of all that she could do - all that they could do. "I made a mistake, one that I'll surely not make a second time."

where. somewhere she might be who. @fxllenpythia

"Has this realm always been so vile?" Or had their taste for it been significantly diminished since their return from the Inferno. Mammon had never cared for the little humans before, not unless they greatly interested him. For all seemed to be ever the same. One of the glasses in their hand was offered to the other, "How have you not already wiped them clean from this city?"