Oraculumx​:

Pythia

NAME/ALIASES. Leviathan, Python, Pythia AGE & BIRTH DATE. Prehistoric & Unknown SPECIES. Aspect GENDER & PRONOUNS. UTP AFFILIATIONS. Asphodel Coven OCCUPATION. UTP FACECLAIM SUGGESTIONS. Andrew Koji, Anya Taylor Joy, Benedetta Gargari, Berk Cankat, Brianne Tju, Kiowa Gordon, Cara Gee, Evan Mock, Conor Leslie, Lucien Laviscount, Josha Stradowski, Adria Arjona.

History

In the beginning they were known as Leviathan, among the first of Ulthar’s creations. Leviathan was an archangel that was born for war, a general in the armies of the divine that raged against the Old Gods that ruled the mortal realm. Centuries of conflict and grief punctuated the beginning of Leviathan’s life, it was when the final battle was won and the fighting was declared over that the archangel expected to reap the rewards that were promised to them - to live on the earth that they’d fought so long to inherit. When the fey came they brought with them the seasons, they brought the tides and the trees, all the things that would come to make the world beautiful and Titania promised this all on the condition that Ulthar lent his magic to hers and helped to create the first of mankind. Humanity. Born with free will but weak, breakable frames. Humans were to never know war or greed or pride, they were the jewels of Ulthar’s creation and the first of Titania’s children. When Leviathan’s father asked the angels to kneel - it was Lucifer who first refused. War was all Leviathan had ever known and when they fought next it was to earn the dominion that they already deserved, angels faced the fey of old back when they were still elves. The greatest of them fell, but it was Melpomene and her sisters that Leviathan drove back into the farthest reaches of the Otherworld, forgotten wind. Great as they were, the fallen were beaten and for their crimes The First, Oztalun, cast Leviathan into the Inferno - to the seventh circle where they came to go by a new name, Python.

Tiamat found them there, they whispered their plans for humanity and Python wove their influence into the heart of witches as the Inferno corrupted the fallen angel and gradually transformed them into a greater demon. Tiamat would come to be known by a new name as well, dread Persephone, true goddess of death, Python led her to the heart of the archdruid Netellia, deeming her weak and susceptible as the greater demon worked their way into the mortal realm via mass invocation. Though they were still weak, they held a blood pact that solidified their hold on all witches who invoked them for the power they offered. Through the necronomicon they were mae able to influence this world, every soul that was fed to it gave them more power, more influence. When one plan fell through another bloomed in its place, they were the great liar, the great deceiver, and they dwelt in the heart of all who looked to the dark for power. Pythia came as their final name, a title they earned as they ferried souls to the dark folds of the Asphodel, given form and power once again with the return of the ancient coven of darkness. Another mask, another lie, another name to hide behind. No one could see the dragon that lurked beneath, all the world against them - humans, angels, demons, witches, druids, fey, and still they would bring about the end. A revolution, the dawn of the new age, a return to a world of fire. The age of humanity would end and that of the forgotten would begin.

Connections

Octavian: Netellia died by Tiamat’s influence, but it was Python that felt the weakness in the archdruid’s heart. Octavian would come to blame Python for the corruption of his sister, and her ultimate death. 

Melpomene: In the war between the fallen and the divine, Leviathan defeated Melpomene and drove her back into the Otherworld, trapping her there for thousands of years. 

Michael: Siblings. Michael fought against Pythia during the rebellion and was part of the forces that condemned the fallen to the Inferno.

Abilities

Python: As a greater demon Pythia possesses all the powers of lesser demons: hellfire manipulation, telepathy, telekinesis, and the ability to shift into domestic animals. 

Fallen Archangel: Despite their connection being severed from the divine realm, Pythia is able to control the flow of magic, meaning they can turn any supernatural creature human, restore a chimera, heal feral vampires, and undo the packs they’ve made with blood witches. 

Immortal: Created from pure magic, Pythia is inhuman and cannot be killed. If their body is destroyed they will simply move on and possess another. 

Psychometry: As one of the fallen they’ve retained the power of psychometry, they can read the impressions left on objects, people, and places and establish a psychic link through this connection.

Weaknesses

Angelic: Hallowed ground burns their feet, as one of the fallen they’re incapable of stepping foot onto churches or graveyards. 

Demonic: Unable to cross salt lines, Pythia can be confined to a single form if they’re trapped within a circle of it.

Witches: All witches can sense the presence of the Pythia, blood witches in particular have made pacts with them under the guise of the greater demon Python and will know when they’re around. 

Possession: Does not have a form of their own, with permission they can possess the body of the living, or they can possess the body of the deceased. 

THIS SKELETON IS CURRENTLY CLOSED.

@felixtheleech​

It’d been some time since they’d last crossed paths, a few centuries at best and yet Pythia had never forgotten a face, and certainly not one that would seek to call out in later years. Whether he should so readily remember or not - the throes of pain and anguish as the Eye had first tainted the creature he’d become were etched into the unending plethora of memories and even still, finding him now - here in Rome, didn’t shock her in the least. She heard them all; each and every one that called out for her; pleaded for another chance, more power, more everything, and the resounding echo of all of them would see to it that Pythia never fell, but Felix - Dominic - was one she returned to in the depth of his darkest days with an unspoken promise to everything he should ever want - should he ever find the light of day once more. “I was wondering which century I’d find you in again.” As if speaking to an old friend, she predicts the confusion she’ll be met with; such familiarity didn’t exactly paint itself so readily; the fallen all but a voice that belonged within his head.

"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.”

@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."

serkanxulusoy​:

closed starter for @fxllenpythia​

The last person he had ever thought he would run into was the Pythia. Serkan had been reluctant to even think about the Asphodel. They had been a part of what had happened to him before. The Pythia was the one pulling the strings though. They always had been. He only wished he had been able to have half the mind they had. If only there was something he could do to fix what had been broken. There was no part of him that wished to be a part of that coven of witches and druids and whatever else they welcomed. He would play nice though, if only to stay on their good side. “You’ve got a lot of plans, don’t you?” He didn’t particularly care what they were as long as he was alive at the end of it. Rome could burn down for all he cared.

“Don’t you?” A meandered response that truly held no weight - and yet, one in which she intended to make the former alpha consider. A leader didn’t fall without losing out on a future they’d envisioned. Change was as much a poison as it was the gift of freedom, it simply depended on which vein it fled to first. “Is this what you imagined the future of the Arno pack would be? Barking at the heels of the eye’s bitch boy?” Truly - she hadn’t yet discovered what methods had been used on the Lupo’s newly crowned alpha, but she had no doubt that they’d certainly made some effort to wield him to their own benefit. Whatever seeds of which she could plant; she would. “And an alliance with the fey?” Her tongue clicked against her teeth sharply as she turned a haphazard glance in his direction, “It’s certainly... questionable.”

She’s alerted long before she arrives. Along with Ayi’ig and the growing number of their ranks, little more breathed within the Otherworld now without their knowing. This, however, did not force her to find him quickly. For centuries, all that she could draw to her with little more than a whisper had driven many a wedge between Octavian and those he called family - Nettelia, Lucretia, and now Oztalun. Much like so many of her Blessed siblings, the righteousness of the Archdruid would always draw her to wreck havoc where havoc could burn ever so brightly. “You come to my home, and decide the best way to announce yourself is to throw a tantrum, Octavian?” Her voice echoes, she is everywhere and nowhere. “Tsk tsk,” the chide rises in tandem with a fervent laugh until shadows unfurl and Pythia rises, “Did Oztalun truly teach you no manners?”

where?: he can’t find the necromansion but he’s gonna light the place up until he does

██

Passage into the pillaged Otherworld was supposed to be a one time thing, but now he needed it. The Guardian was reluctant to grant Octavian’s wish for reasons unbeknownst to him, perhaps he saw what dwelled within or perhaps he was just a coward. Octavian would’ve like to find out for it may have helped him on his journey, but he would be alone in this. He had questions that needed answers, opinions that needed to be shared, anger that needed to be released, and faces he needed to see for himself. The phoenix blazes through the dark wreckage, knowing that he won’t be able to find the location or the one he seeks at all. But the whispers are calmed by his proximity to the Necromanteion, providing him the peace of mind necessary to make himself known with his full power. His fire will consume all, his shrieks will echo endlessly, and Octavian will not yield until he gets a response. This meeting of predators was long overdue.

@fxllenpythia​

Pythia — A Satyr King's Funeral

@seraphimichael​ location: we’re in the colosseum baby.

Moonlight filtered through ruins in much the same way the cosmos scintillated the vast abyss above. Just enough to offer something beyond the premise of total darkness; a bleak, cold existence. Lithe fingertips that ghosted across crumbling echoes of a lifetime ago, Pythia felt near giddy as the dread and fear of all that lingered from the past flowed through her. The aches and pains of those that would never see beyond these walls; humans caught within the snare of their own kind and forced to cut teeth against stone to garner even a single day more.  “Michael,” the eerie drift of her voice carried across the stagnant air as if it’d been whispered upon the greatest of winds. Harrowing, the echo reverberated against the stone and kissed promise of the greatest haunting the mortal realm had ever known. “Oh, Michael..” The singsong sweetness to her tone near sickening as she slipped through the broken gate and laid onyx hues upon the one she’d avoided for so long. Not unaware of his plight to remove each of the fallen from this world like the stains he deemed them to be.  Saccharine lips turn upward and yet any who bore witness could pledge that nothing but venom would pass beyond her tongue, even as she meandered closer, not unlike a long lost sibling relegating a near stranger. “You look weary, brother.” Or perhaps rather, he felt as much. “Or perhaps it is the mundane vessel you continue to hold onto.”

Practical Magic (1998)