Only One With Precision Could Envision The Gorish Nightmares That Bastien Forced Upon Them. Each Stringent

@adatiiel​ “You don’t see it as you’re never there at the end of their days, they’re nothing more then collateral damage to you but I am with all of them – there is not a soul that is wiped from this earth that is not known by me” Pythia’s heart had become lost long ago, enshrouded by the darkness that become her being, clouding out what once was good – now she only wanted destruction, darkness and death – Adatiel couldn’t escape her if she tried. The seraphim had been created from the cosmos to fight the first darkness that had blotted out the world and they had been called again to restore the natural order. “I won’t try to convince you to the goodness that exists within humanity, they are flawed and yet they still try to do better – you are not the creator of worlds and we won’t allow you to destroy the world completely” There is only one set of lips that she would listen to an order from, to bring about the end of the world will only be allowed by Ulthar.

The longer she spoke, the more tiring the whole exchange began to feel. The bleeding heart within her sister, however accepting of those she ushered beyond death, surely understood that such a burden could be wiped from her conscience were the mortals no longer upon this earth. Though, neither was Pythia so willing to offer the obvious argument to one who undoubtedly knew as much already. “Blah, blah, blah..” Her nose turned up in impatient disgust at the tirade offered to her, much like all those before. “And their constant attempts for better continue to be a let down, time and time again. How long should they be offered more chances to, as you say, better themselves? Or shall we watch for all eternity as they ponder the gift given to them and you... carry the weight of knowing each of them?” They’re menial, amounting to nothing in her eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve made decisions based on what any of you would allow me to do. It would better ease your disappointment if you simply stood aside.”

@adatiiel​

The smiley face was a clever move, one that brought a hitch of a smile to Adatiel's mouth even as their search turned up empty. Being the angel of death meant that she reaped everyone who fell, allegiance didn't matter when their days came to an end. She wasn't to fight, her hands didn't call for violence as she was the result of whatever came to be. Adatiel often satisfied her whims, whenever she wished to see someone she did. It was why she felt that a conversation with her wayward sister was long overdue. "Are you happy with the wraiths that you trapped within your walls? Spirits that remain and grow in vengeance can become a dangerous weapon. The spirits are very angry with you."

_

Was she? Happy? As if to make crystal clear, Pythia's smile grew to maniacal proportions, the feint giggle that slipped between her lips eerie at best, and horrifying in the shape it took. "Sister, don't take it so personally. If anything, you should be rather grateful that I led you right to them. The pesky little things." Those that lingered within the walls, wraiths that screamed endlessly, clawing at every sense of humanity that remained, every ounce of their blood riddled empathy had risen as a symphony in the halls of the Asphodel. "Angry? At me?" The pout that settled against porcelain skin feigned innocence that would never look quite right, "Then consider their anger a gift, in the efforts you and the rest of them should make to try and stop me. I daresay, you'll need it."

_

"I don't need your help to find the dead" what ego but Pythia did always carry one, spirits have always beckoned her and she is the angel that is there in the last moment of life. Adatiel was to not be confused with a guardian angel as she did not protect nor decide who lived and died, merely knew when their time had come to an end, when the hourglass had finally run out. Those that died while being tormented or moments of great emotional impact became wraths. As someone who holds death and life in equal care, it is difficult for the seraphim to accept such cruelty. "I wish to hear it from your lips sister, tell me how you wish for this to all end. Do you really wish for darkness to blot out the world?"

_

“No? You’ll have to forgive me for my lacking faith in your.. abilities.” For a millennia, so many of her kind - their kind had done little more than squalor their potential. Bending to the whims of a father who cared for lesser creatures before his own children. Sighing heavily, something more of contentment than anything else, the Pythia smiled quietly to herself. “And why shouldn’t it?” Tongue clicked against her teeth and the brunette eyed the other with irate mischief, cold and calculating - unyielding. “Because daddy dearest said so? They’ve done little but squander the world given to them. Destroyed and plundered a place they’ve never sought to earn. I say, - burn it all to hell.”

Practical Magic (1998)

“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.” 

@lulucretias​ location: necroland 

“Do it again,” as if catching the heat of the flame hadn’t already singed everything within reach. Amusement rattled somewhere in her chest, Lucretia now living proof that all that the Asphodel could reach was well beyond all that came before them. A God dead, and a dragon within their midst. Pride swelled, unspoken beneath the surface. The band of misfits that had sought to lead the plan to success with her an easy reminder that all that she sought was not already damned. “There’s still a bag of marshmallows lying around here somewhere,” added offhandedly as she filled both of their empty glasses, “Bet you can’t avoid burning them to a crisp.”

camila queiroz via instagram

Fingertips drew gently across rose petals, a perfect parallel to the death left in her wake and for a moment they simply lingered. Another piece of this realm that existed and remained fleeting to those it was gifted to. A single breath slipped between her lips and the flowers before her went up in flames. The harrowing glow of the fire illuminated her features, eerie and near demonic as her brothers voice broke through silent thought. “Hayliel, darling.” Something akin to endearment crossed her features and the flames died out, grave crunching beneath the toe of her boot as she turned to him, “I’ve been wondering when I’d run into you.” Perhaps even looking forward to it, “Getting up to no good is always a little lonely without you.”

closed starter for @fxllenpythia​

It had seemed like ages since he had last seen her. Perhaps it had been, but he did admire the chaos and misfortune that the other brought with them. It made him laugh that there were still some that chose to fuck with her in any capacity. He certainly wouldn’t. If there was a side to be on in this war, he would certainly choose the Pythia’s. There was the fact that he was loyal to the fallen and then there was also that part of him that just wanted to watch the world burn. Hayliel wanted to watch everything Ulthar had worked so hard for to crumble down. That would be so nice to watch unfold. “Sister. You look as lovely as always and up to no good at all.”

Flame, licked at every crevice of the prison. Taunting in nature, it would burn none, other than those that tried to escape. A foolish venture that very few attempted to stomach. Despite it, a chill swept across the floor of stone and bones of those long dead. Disappointment was something Pythia had known since the war of the Old Gods had ended. It ran rampant among all those she knew, a flaw that couldn't be stripped of any who carried it within the breadth of their spineless forms. When it first begun to show in one of her most loyal - a man present when the asphodel first formed and invocated Pythia from the inferno in the first, she was surprised that he'd fall so far. "Of all the fools to walk into hell," she laughed, a lowly sound that sounded within the rumble of the Necronomanteion as if the kingdom itself breathed with her. "I have never known someone so stupid, Kaan Narcissus. How does it feel, to know you've led your entire coven into the arms of certain death?"

where. blood prison who. @fxllenpythia

Raffaele and Jianyu were gone. Or rather, within a realm that he could not get to. That he could not save them from. For his betrayal, for his want to destroy Pythia and the Necronomicon, they now suffered a fate worse than death. If they could not be returned to him, if they could not be saved, then there was nothing left for him in this world. And that he would use to ruin Pythia, in any way that he possibly could. He would not give up, not yet, even if his magic no longer flowed through his being. He would find another way to rip the demon apart, even if he had to use his bare hands. "Come to gloat then?" He questioned idly, as if the want to destroy his once sovereign did not burn so hotly within him.

@sacrilcgiovs​ Location: Narcissus House. can she go there? today she can idk

Shadow carried her in the same way a mother carried a child, with certain ease that deduced that form and function were entwined, connected in ways that so many others could never be. Darkness and death became her, and while she was certain he was expecting her, she made no effort to conceal herself from him now. She was everywhere, and nowhere. A voice in his head that did little more than linger. A quiet hum that more often than not, unsettled even the most hardy of her followers before too long. “Do you want to play a game, Kaan Narcissus?” It echoed, bounced off of the recesses of his mind, the tail of a serpent drawing it ever deeper into the depths he carried. Of all the things she’d given him, of all the years he’d wandered, thrived from all she’d promised, and yet - his betrayal was no surprise.  Form took hold and boots clicked loudly against hollowed stone of the house of Narcissus as she caught him within her crossfire with near perfect aim. Fingertips curling tightly around his jaw, “Did you hope I would overlook your little.. blight? Was the immunity the senate granted you all that you could ever hope for?” She smiled, and within it, she holds every twisted, sickening truth of the world, the devil in the details. “Was killing a God not enough for you?”