Pythia

octavianrising​:

❂🐦❂

She made herself known, a foolish choice considering how much hatred he harbored for her. In part, he wanted to unleash the phoenix’s rage on sight, but he had questions that needed answers. So he pulls his wings in, and after bursting into a pillar of flame Octavian changes back into his human form, walking forward with purpose and authority. “Keep my father’s name off your snake tongue, vile creature,” he warns, eyes still blazing. “I only want to know one thing: why now? Why free my sister now? Why chip from my family even more than you already have?” Though those questions were a thinly veiled mask to what he truly was after. Octavian couldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how the voices in his mind screamed to be united with their progenitor. “The things you’ve done with that book … I should burn you for that alone.”

It’s quite a performance, the phoenix honing in against all the otherworld posed against him now, though she feels no sense of surprise. Pythia knows Octavian to be a force to contend with and one that fluctuates between loyalty and all that she knows if in his mind. As if out of humor alone, a serpentine hiss fills the air as she smirks, perfect teeth elongating only momentarily to mimic those of the creature he spoke of. “You should be more grateful to see her, did you not wish to be reunited with her?” The truth of his sisters demise one that filled Pythia with utter flee, “I did you a favor.” Framed within the concave of irrevocable choice - an olive branch that was only lacquered in the same poison that tainted his thoughts. “You could, of course, but I would merely find a new vessel and we would continue on as we always have..” The tip of her tongue runs the edge of her teeth, before she inhales swiftly and sets about on a slight skip in her step as she rounds him, “or, you could confess your thoughts - the ones that have told you all that I, and the book, can truly offer you. All that it whispers to you.”

@arakhor

Another triumph, underlying the return of the fellowship that had set out some time ago. Whispers had sought their way back to her on the wind, through the shadows and in the thick of each soul spilled to the book. Heroes that would stumble upon a broken crown and all the instability that would come with it. It spun its way through her entire being as an ultimate high, she almost missed it. A tremor that worked it's way into her fingertips and the promise of an oath not sworn in blood or souls, etched within the very celestial bones of what she'd once been, alerted her to something beyond the dissipating stretch of space between her and what she would bring upon this world. Her form filtered into a darkened mist, each speckle of darkness a black hole that emanated how rotten she was to the core, and when her hand slipped over his shoulder, the corporeal form following, she drew him into the heart of the otherworld. The chambers of the Asphodel and the Necronomicon echoing with centuries of silence and distance that never once left a mark upon what existed between them "I knew this lifetime would bring you back to me."

@lulucretias

"To deadbeat fathers," she laughed manically, the toast neither served within wine glass, nor bottle, but the cage that she drew across the room, filled with druids captured upon the battlefield. Broken, contoured, but alive. "Perhaps you should throw Octavian into the river too," a look of distaste crossed her features fleetingly, as if reliving the memory of something truly disgusting, "I'd have liked to have ended that twink much sooner."

It’s perhaps enough to further brighten the spark of Pythia’s mood. The unyielding comfortability in her ability to brag without ever saying a word cuts like flame across her features as she emerges the crowd. Slipping through so many of them as they felt little more than a greater presence of magic and little else in her stead. As the woman steps to confront her, she pauses, just barely as the extent of her cruelty embellishes itself upon her features in a wry grin. “All that was necessary, Eve.” It cuts, like the tip of a freshly sharpened blade, through the loss she can feel surrounding them now. “Which is far more than anyone else has ever been willing to do.”

who: @fxllenpythia​ where: Mercuralia, following the return of the Labrinyth’s

Life never stopped surprising the Aspect since she had fled Eden and part of her wanted an unwritten narrative, wanted the days to pass colored with choice and mystery but this darkness isn’t what she wanted for the world. She wasn’t inherently tied to the First the way the druids were, she didn’t feel their death ripple through her but she did feel it. The way the world loses its color when an old friend leaves the Earth, she could feel the absence without explanation. A smug conquering smile parts through the crowd and Eve feels sick to her stomach, boldly confronting the other – she wanted answers. “What have you done?” 

ericxaquino​:

          It would be typical fashion for the volatile to slink away, seemingly undetected, the Exile always running from one life and community to the next. Nothing ever seemed to fit, it was a maddening cycle in their life and though this was yet another failed excursion for them, Eric felt strangely confident in the idea of the Lupo; of leaving this wretched coven behind. Their thoughts of August were palpable with anguish, the necromancer was on a steep slope downwards and Eric leaving would only inflict further disaster, but for the lycan it was a necessity. Marcella was the only other factor in the equation that allowed Eric to be uneasy; August could handle himself, make peace with the flames that engulfed his tarnished soul, but Eric knew wholeheartedly that Marcella and he were ravaged by their own guilt for their decisions of imminent survival. The two necromancers Eric had joined for may understood his decision but they were polar opposites in lieu of handling it. “Don’t you think a lycan is better suited with an actual pack? What have I offered to you besides violence?” They shook their head, anxiety was surely engulfing them in this very moment, a verbal face off with the Pythia, “But, I guess all you ever really wanted from me was a weapon, anyhow.”

“What difference does a pack of wolves have to a coven? A court?” She waved a hand rather flippantly, the subdivision of species was a rather dull tactic to take when it came to the route of survival. Overdone, overworked and predictable. Centuries could pass among any of them before a spark of change, of life could pass through and reinvigorate the masses. “Do you not heed my voice in your mind as a beta would an alpha? Do you not feel protected? Safe?” Did they not know, that Pythia would burn the world down for those devoted enough to help see her through this? That Lucretia, August, Bastian, Levent, were now the closest thing to family she’d known in centuries - locked within the inferno after being fought and brought down by her siblings and gods alike. She had raised hell on those who’d betrayed her in the past, and she’d been far more forgiving as one of the blessed. “You have a mind, and will of your own. I understand the premise of what the Asphodel stand for, but we are for all those that have never belonged - been cast aside for daring to satiate our own curiosity.” And perhaps, his would be his own downfall this turn. Laughter blossomed on cherry tainted lips, “I don’t need weapons, Eric. I’m one of the fallen, risen from the inferno. There is nothing like me within this realm or the next.” Not yet, “Those that choose to follow me deserve far more than their lot in life, perhaps you believe you’re only ever meant to be one of many.”

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?”

It always had been. Perhaps before either had even known it. Leviathan didn't love, it simply wasn't of her nature - but she could remain devout in loyalty. Arakhor would remain the closest they'd come to an infinite connection; and that meant that one day she would see to it that all he sought to destroy would be done just as surely as all that the asphodel and her brothers within the inferno would want. "Far too long," she breathes out with something of a manic bloom of laughter, "We shall see it done, later. For now," fingers flex, and the seraph blade that extends as a piece of every vessel, "Ride out with me."

The Autumn fey leaned against the wall, watching the Pythia for a few moments. There were so many trapped, now, so many that would serve their cause better caged and bled. It was the start of a great plan, but Arakhor would never be one to let down his guard. The Pythia would need him, anyway, so it's why they now had room for themselves. Anyone who intruded would find themselves flayed, anyhow. "No, my place is here. With you. It's been centuries since we've had a good run like this, you know."