Tuzak (3) | 2022

One of the flaws of all mortals was their impending ability to lose sight far too quickly. So adept to instant gratification that the eons Python had spent piecing together each path of intentional destruction was so quick to doubt in their minds. Their wishy-washy desires formed of self preservation, rather than the desire to claw for everything they had. One did not seek out the powers of infernal darkness without getting burned in the process. The disappointment was wrought, but that was nothing new. The book was gone, and yet, that didn't dampen Leviathan's spirits. All she had to do was reassess. "Don't I always?" The maniacal leer to her tone is unforgiving. However bad it may have seemed - there are far worse fates to suffer, and the archfiend intends to see it through to the end, over and over again if they must. "Whatever it is they suffered you, Bastien, their forces do nothing but pre-empt their own by constantly fighting it. Regardless, we'll see it through. The books destruction is nothing if not history repeating itself - they're fools to think this would squander our intentions."

where. wherever this hoe be hiding who. @fxllenpythia

The Necronomicon had been destroyed. After thousands of years, he could feel its loss so keenly. As if a piece of himself was gone, lost forever. Which is why he could understand how Pythia may be feeling in the moment. After all their plans had been ripped from their hands, shredded before their very eyes. Bastien had been imprisoned for his connection to the Asphodel, had not questioned his loyalty for even a moment as his mind fractured within his cell. So now, he felt as if he did not know what to do. Did not know what direction to point himself in. "Do tell me you have a plan already forming."

augustcavaliere​:

It was true that the further he sank, the more powerful he became, the more twisted the necromancer’s mind ended up being. The siren’s call of the dark arts had beckoned him for an age, each reincarnation under Thetis’ curse had brought him to this. In this life Eren had broken the spell but that it would be too late might as well have always been the druidic mother’s intention. Because for all the lives that August and Eren had lived together, the two of them had never been further apart, now they stood on opposite sides of the coming battle with an obvious end in sight. “Good,” the smirk that followed came across as unnatural, like a snake lifting its lips to try and grin, “I’m looking forward to it.” The drow. Annoying creatures but obviously necessary, the necromancer would have preferred to toil in his lab but if Pythia had a directive for him then he would see it through to completion. “Consider it done.” 

Obedient to a fault, August had never slipped in his plight to serve both her and the Necronomicon, and he’d serve the same punishment as all others. The prospect of losing a loved one, for good, was one she knew well. Eons had passed since the war of the Gods. To see her brethren struck down even then had been a blow - but what followed, in seeing them tear each other down, had left marks unseen upon Leviathan. “How did Eren take it?” One of the many she knew that adored the man, yet still sought to damn him for the life he wanted when the truth came to light. “I shouldn’t need to apologize for the cost we must pay for our plight” She sighs,” the cost of joining me alone drives away those that cannot handle all to come, but were I given the option, I’d have you know that with enough power, all things can be reversed. It’s merely a matter of how long you can be without until a suitable fix is found.”

Natasha O'Keeffe + WHEEL OF TIME S2 Bloopers

It’s about as much as she suspected, and rightfully, she could have trifled through his thoughts to establish as much, but she’d known Seth for long enough to offer him the courtesy of asking. “How lovely to know that some still hold onto some semblance of common sense then,” anyone who thought to look to the senate was foolish. It only served to curb the realities of the world as it was. Were creatures given the respect they deserved, the world would have fallen to the chaos she so desired to see it in. “And what do you look towards now? Has your outlook and desire for more swayed?” Again, actions speak far louder than words, but she doesn’t intend to be burned by one of her own while the Asphodel stumble closer and closer to their goal. “Is this your way of speaking for him?” Pythia muses with an ounce of amusement, already rather familiar with the vampire that he speaks of. “You wish him to remain.. untouched?” She’d spent some time within the mind of the former leech, undoubtedly, the thought of drawing him into the fold had already arisen in recent memory. “Would he swear to it? Or would you?”

          The Pythia was once an entity in which he worshiped, each sacrifice among the concrete altar providing sustenance for the book in which the Senate and Archdruids attempted to impede. They had separated the book, plucking away it’s spine, the cover, the contents; pulling them to different places within different realms and still, they had failed. Believers such as Seth, practitioners of the infernal magic locked within each book, were the living proof of such potent beliefs that would keep the book from being null and void. Though he no longer had magic adeptly reigned at the fingertips, Seth’s knowledge of what once was, was vast and limitless. She’s to be respected and yet the Criminal laughs at the asinine nature of her question. It’s a fair question though Seth has never been technically rational; the Necronomicon had blackened his soul and the descent which he’d taken within vampirism had only fragmented his mind further, “The Senate doesn’t serve me, I don’t look towards them.” Normally, he’d disregard his progeny and yet somehow, one in particular had found their way back, “I do have one progeny here but the others, well, the only thing we share in common is our bloodline, nothing more.” He thought of Dominic, once branded as Felix the Leech, but said nothing on the matter.

camila queiroz via instagram

BENSU SORAL   | 1.02  －  Tuzak

There is always defectors, those unable to handle the power and weight that the asphodel offers. It has never carried a moniker for misfits and miscreants in the way that so many consider it. It was not a comfort that home could not give - the asphodel was a want, a dire need and for those who lacked the impervious determination to build something of themselves, would always fall through the cracks. Fodder for the book. Pythia had heard the whispers - the thoughts that spun within Marcella's mind and while Eric turned his back, true that he would never rise to be enough, the witch before her was a different story. "The darkness will always follow.." She whispers, barely audible as she looks upon the young woman. "It will never be me, that's in need, Marcella." One way or another, the book would find her again - in death, or to return the gift of power she now sought to turn away from.

Person: @fxllenpythia Location: Haus Asphodel She is packing and she thinks everyone knows it. Thankfully everyone is busy enough minding their own business. That's something they all seem really keen on doing, it should have been a sign from the beginning. They all come together to cause chaos but she has seen time and time again how each member of the coven seems to have their own agenda, their own ambitions. She's got her own agenda and staying with the Asphodel isn't going to help her one bit, not anymore. Marcella is gathering her things, some books and tucking them away into a bag of holding when she catches a shadow darkening her door, one that makes her nearly freeze. The Pythia is someone she has skirted around, someone with far too much power. "Did you need something?" It's an innocent question, it is soft, she is not afraid, not so much anymore.

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.

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.”

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​