@lulucretias​ Location: Necroland 

Camila Queiroz.

@yurcna location: yurena's necro crib

"You seek to conserve your strength when I can give you all the sustenance you could ever ask for." They drew from the book, an unyielding, constant conduit of power, yet Leviathan knows what she has felt. A drift, caught somewhere between the young witches devotion - a snaggle tooth that needed to be pulled. "There's no going back, Yurena." Hues as void as the abyss struck Yurena still, "Speak your grievances and be done with it." The underlying threat of Kaan's demise remaining unspokien.

"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.”

camila queiroz via instagram

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.”

The laugh that leaves her lips is full and warm, not nearly the sound that one might have expected of a creature like herself. And yet, just as all others, she feels the swell of amusement cut through the diminishing disappointment of those who wanted power for little more than the bragging rights that would claim it so. Too many in this modern world were after near-instant gratification, unwilling to do the work - pay the price. "Too few among us hold onto the spine they were born with, Efigenia. Too willing to reach for what they want without the desire or ability to prove they deserve to break their own fall." And in the end, all those turning their back on her - on the Necronomicon, would fall. "Come, sit." Pythia turned, offering space beside her, overlooking New Dis from the spire above. "The ritual went exceedingly well, I hear," Felt, saw - experienced right along with her, and the book. "How are you feeling? I trust the drow didn't overstep."

a gift for @fxllenpythia, location: asphodel house notes: mommies

Respect for the Pythia was one of the very few principles Efigenia garnered. It was strange, the very creature that lorded Kaan's tether to the book was the very one in which Efigenia respected wholeheartedly. They had whispered to her often in childhood, an uttered embrace that comforted a gifted child who was within solitude as she navigated the powers that offered her great prestige as she grew. She'd met them now in the flesh and despite her reverence for the greater demon, Efigenia was always purposefully upfront, "I hear many are dropping like flies as you descend upon the world. Bit off more than they could chew?" She wouldn't pretend to be oblivious to the madness that came in tandem with her signature in the book but she was not leery of it either. The Asphodel was better without those who deflected and Efi only hoped their deflection would serve as sustenance for the book; it'd need power for what she too planned to tap from it.

It grates her nerves and though he did, indeed, leer such greeting as a testament to what Leviathan had always envisioned, there's a pinching tease within it that makes her want to turn each of his snacks to dust within his pockets. "You're positively glowing," not nearly his glorifying beautiful garish self. It's insult to a festering wound and she's never wished to make a realm bleed as much as she does in this fleeting moment. "It's disgusting." The wave of her hand sends that which he holds flying across the room as she settles in beside him. "Hail Lucifer, indeed. Have you seen him? Since arriving?" Pythia certainly hadn't and it was one, among many, affronts to suffer through while her coven returned to hiding.

a starter for @fxllenpythia,

Abaddon was already feasting on his thirteenth emergency snack, little tidbits packed away in his vessel's coat that were proving to be an insufficient amount as the day was only half way through and he'd almost pilfered the entire stash. What some would look upon and label as stress-eating was merely Abaddon's sacred vice, though it was noted that the more he ate, the more under duress he actually was. Freed from in the Inferno, from the practical starvation suffered, Abaddon had gorged himself on the creatures and life within the Otherworld. He'd feasted for several days and nights until he felt comfortable, but an archfiend such as he could never be satiated. "Hail Lucifer," teased in greeting, Abaddon offered an empty and teasing smile to his sister; Leviathan, the creature whose vice was violence, even they were not spoiled to the plan to release their siblings from the pits of the Inferno.

Natasha O'Keeffe + WHEEL OF TIME S2 Bloopers

“I never believed that you would.” Perhaps, in another lifetime, Pythia should have liked to be more like Astaroth. Her anger and taste for vengeance had blossomed long before they fell, born for war it was truly a wonder that Ulthar could ever have predicted another outcome. Never would they all fall to decree when all so many of them had wanted, was simply what they were promised. Would a life among the mortals in hiding have offered Levithan a different outlook? Were she not cast into the inferno and forced to pry her way out, could she have been so quietly indifferent in this moment? “They have wished to kill me for millennia, Roth, and though they may be far closer in their efforts than they ever have been before, I am not what they once knew.” Proof was in each devised plan that swayed just as surely in her favor - in that of the Asphodel. Her death would cost them something that would break them, the same way she had once been broken. Their sacrifice would shatter, or those condemned would rise. “You always did fare better standing on your own,” it’s noted in the hitch of her mouth, the bittersweet smile almost one that could contend with nostalgia, “I won’t make you choose,” after all - choice was something she offered all those who had none. The choice to be more, the choice to stand against all that was deemed acceptable. “Just know that neither do I want to strike you down - but I will, if I must.” Venom didn’t curate her words into the fangs of a serpent as she cast dark hues to her brother. Heartless; she’d earnt the reputation that overwhelmed so many, and yet - “Unlike the others, however, I’d find a way to bring you back.”

fxllenpythia​:

“The truth is that I’ve cared for this world far longer than anyone else.” After all, she’d been one of the first to take up arms against those that would see the world they now occupied, as belongings to the weakness of human kind. She’d witnessed the destruction they’d wrought upon it as they plundered the precious realm and behaved as if it was there to serve them, and not the stark opposite. “What I don’t care for, is those that have done nothing but tarnish it in every possible way. Human kind, and all that followed, is a blight upon the earth.” It had been created as a paradise, a place that would mimic the divine realm in ways so few could see, and yet it had been left to squander. Their brethren condemned to an eternity of pain and suffering for wanting to protect something so precious. All that they’d been promised, rotting deep into the core of all that it was. “Michael and Uriel, they worship and admonish all others to follow the orders of our father as if that would convey whatever love they might have once felt for him, when in truth, allowing Titania and her barbaric creatures to inherit this earth, was the first act of defiance, not ours. And yet we are marked as the traitors.’

           “I won’t kneel to their request,” Michael and the Conquest were not seraphim one wanted to be in conflict with but Roth had gone head to head with Uriel once before and was confident, even in eons of retirement that he could survive again against his Blessed brother. “They wish to kill you, not place you in a torturous prison to command over,” Roth was certain that Pythia, as they’d come to go by, was well aware of this determined quietus. Others of their brood, fallen seraphim, had been cut down for less, their cosmic essence pulled back to the cosmos for merely disagreeing with Ulthar’s demands. The Pythia had set the world ablaze, smiled as it bent and snapped beneath her will; hers would be a violent end, a barbaric rule over the Inferno no longer in her future. “I told them I’d not stand with them.” It holds influence, though Roth’s wording carefully proposes the reminder that while he won’t strike her down and join the slaughterous campaign, he’s not about to align himself with her creed either.