Alas, Leviathan Was Only Ever Where They Needed To Be At The Precise Moment Necessary, Though Many Could

"You doubt me too much, Levent." An inevitable venture of those who had yet to take full advantage of the book holding tightly to their souls. Lucretia, August - even Bastien, and a greater number of them the world over, had taken what was owed for the price of their soul. While others lingered in wait - as if time itself would merely offer gratuitous earnings and she's quickly reminded of the audacity of mortals. "Do you think I haven't considered every outcome? Every possible path that could break? You doubt these so-called, fail-safes, yet not once have you asked the correct questions. You have little fail-safes in place, I have thought of them all."

Levent had weaved his songs of blood and nightmares all around them. It was for their own good, they'd said. Pythia had brought him away from the light so many centuries ago, that now it seemed irrelevant. Part of him wished he had been cut off completely; a drow, easier raised than watching the plans of his own design come forth. "No one is saying I'm tapping out," he couldn't lie, anyway, but his frustrations were always too clear. He thought the resting bitch face would help. Arys, his original name, the one he hid away, felt like weight upon his tongue. His clairvoyance, however, filled him with impending dread. "We have little fail-safes in place, Pythia."

“Then do it.” It’s spoken as if she’d drawn it directly from the void within her. It’s empty and holds nothing but callous intent. She would watch him burn for all he’d condemned them to; whether by choice or blind loyalty. Once a revered general among divine armies, Leviathan existed upon the purity of orders. Of war and all that it stood for. Winning conquest was to be rewarded - and ultimately, peace was all she’d wanted. That, and all that was promised to her - to them. All that she’d fought for, stripped from the offering and once again, they were asked to kneel. Did he so easily forget who she’d been? What she’d been without the blood and death? This was not all she was; but it was what they’d forced her to become. “No, you can’t change the past, and nor can I simply forgive and forget.” And now she existed purely out of spite. “ I will never forgive you.” For all that could be said about her - cold, callous and heartless. The spire that each empty emotion was carved from, Leviathan could be all and more but one did not linger so violently in a world that sought to tear her down without first finding a level of care and determination that solidified her desire to accomplish what was necessary. She would not grieve for those given this realm without first understanding how precious it had been; but for all those who fell - who fought to hold and cherish this world, she had never once stopped mourning. She felt that ache with every moment that passed. Hues narrowed at the incessant audacity he had to even attempt such an approach, and meager footsteps drew her closer as she took in the sight of someone she once admired and revered above all, finding no sense of familiarity anymore “ -- You are no brother of mine.”

fxllenpythia​:

“Then I sincerely hope it plagues you. Night and day.” For fault, in her mind, did not lie with she - nor those who had fallen. Rather with their father and all those who sought to use force against them to begin with. “I hope everything you have, falls to the same inferno that you damned us to.” And truly, she would like to see noone suffer more than Michael himself. Perhaps an eternity before, such a confrontation would prickle emotion hot enough for tears to spring to life, for something to catch in her throat, but long gone were her reservations about how she might feel coming face to face with them once more. “I do, because nobody else is willing to.” Willing to fight for what was rightfully theirs - to carve their own fathers betrayal into the flesh of the world poisoned because he saw greater perfection in creatures no more worthy than the dirt they walked upon. “Everything I have suffered - we have suffered, is because of this realm. These people. These creatures that would have Ulthar turn from us. Betray us so fervently. Do not stand there and accuse me of being a puppet when all you have ever done, is bend to the will of another. When was the last time you considered how this realm, and all others, would be if you hadn’t bent the knee in blind faith to one who would never offer you the same loyalty?”

-

“If it would turn you from this course, I’d walk into the fire myself.” Leviathan had destroyed themself for this goal, Sathanas, Astaroth, Leviathan - the list of the damned generals went on. Michael had torn the grace from even more, had returned countless to the cosmosand in that action he’d called himself righteous. His sibling levelled their anger upon him and was justified in doing so, so much pain for one decision, for refusal that their divine father had taken as a slight. The army that had won so much for him had lost its use if they were not willing to serve in complete, blind obedience. “I cannot change the past, Leviathan.” Michael wouldn’t dwell on what could have been or what should have been, all that could be done was to press forward. He’d once begged his father to let him descend upon this realm so that he could cut down the fallen, and if there remained no other course: he would do exactly that. “I’m asking you,” sincerity rang in Michael’s eyes, “as your brother: don’t do this. Walk away.” 

bensu soral in tuzak

(…)you learned to love the absence of sound, absence of an aching voice rubbed raw, your world just a whisper, a holy name uttered before sleep and dreams of burning.

Vandana Khanna, from You Who Have Taken The Name Clare in “Train To Agra” (via bonequeen)

@arakhor

"Admittedly, I haven't had a chance to catch much of it." Though, now that she'd been drawn from the reverie of everything else the procession offered. Hesitation lingered for a fleeting moment, forgotten as Uriel switches his juggling method. "Shuffle over,, something tells me I'll never forgive myself if I don't see this." The last two glasses on the tray she held snatched up as she left it behind, offering one to Dionaeia, "I have no clue what this is, it's sweet though, far too easy to drink."

who? @fxllenpythia where? by the clown show

"Amazing show, isn't it?" Dionaeia mentions at Pythia with a small laugh as she sees Uriel juggle. Something about the sight gives her great pleasure, and she has spent way too much time seeing the four clowns do their work rather than enjoy the tragic festivities. Silenus would be proud of the the festivities, she thinks. "I can't seem to look away."

open to: asphodel coven members @senatusstarters​ location: asphodel house

“We won’t be able to hide from them for much longer.” Nor, in her mind, did she believe they should. Given she’d announced their location, invited them to their front door, that still didn’t give rise to the identities of her accomplices. A fickle detail. Alas, the brevity of human life itself undoubtedly increased their need for self preservation, their devotion one of the many threads that kept her here. The moonlight that shone brightly upon the terrace warmed her like sunlight; the depth of night itself enough to bring a near maniacal laugh to her lips. “They’ll try to infiltrate, pick us apart one by one,” a tactful approach that would only parallel all previous attempts to destroy the Asphodel for good; if only they were so attune to the Methodist act of devotion and the level of depravity the coven itself represented.  Still giddy with the meager city wide retribution that had come to pass some months prior, Pythia balanced precarious upon the tiptoes of her latest vessel, turning the page of the Necronomicon as the blood sacrifice of their newest took hold. The blessed wouldn’t be far behind. “They’ve gone far too quite far too quickly, don’t you think?” Enough to whet her appetite just barely.

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’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?” 

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."