A Waste, Became Her Most Immediate Thought. The More Demons Already Among Them, The Less She Would Need

The familiar voice caught her a little off guard, though Pythia doesn't know exactly why. The tray of champagne flutes she carries, filled with a soft pink bubbly liquid trembles slightly, though she recovers quickly as she rounds to lay hues on her brother. Hues, that now hold an air or warmth that had otherwise disappeared eons ago. "Michael," A fleeting moment holds ire before its reasoning dissipates just as surely, "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Truly, Pythia doesn't remember the last time that she'd felt so, light - so, unburdened by the tribulations that had so quickly torn her apart and left her rampant for retribution. "Oh," it's something of a surprise, but again, she doesn't truly know why, "let me just..--" Perhaps there's some importance in the tray she carries, unwilling to simply set it down, Pythia isn't comfortable until another server accepts it from her. He wasn't wrong. How long had passed, since the hands of time set them on opposite sides, since they'd seen each other as brother and sister, instead of nothing more than an enemy. "For old times' sake."

@fxllenpythia location: the FUNCTION notes: a rare sentimental moment between these two

Wasted time. That's what all these years amounted to. Michael couldn't remember why he and Leviathan had fallen out, there was a time that they had been close: inseparable, even. They'd fought together for so long, served their father dutifully and faithfully but... For some reason Michael had let time and who knew what else come between him and so many of his other siblings. "Of all the things you and I shared, it's hard to believe that there are still firsts." This masquerade, the gala and all its eccentricities were so distinctly fey. The eladrins would throw their parties in Eden, but they were not for the seraphim to attend. "Dance with me? I feel like we have a lot of time to make up for."

First one's free.

“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?”

fxllenpythia​:

 Proof once more, that those among mortals - humans and creatures alike, remained the hypocritical downfall that would lead to their own ruin. Pythia watched from within his mind as the senate conducted such damning practice that they might otherwise condemn another for. Another wretch among many that she believed highlighted their undeserved coven over this realm. It was certainly enough to draw a sliver of rage into the breadth of her chest. “Not yet, and certainly not if I have anything to do with it.” She muttered as she pulled Dominic further into his own mind - a safe haven where chains did not beguile him.  It felt like years, since she’d done as much for him. Years a captive of the eye had seen her present more often than not within his thoughts, however; his release had been something she needed to see from the outside. A witness to how far they’d twisted him. Admittedly, she’d missed him. “One would think you’d see that I’m not quite done with you yet.” Was he ready? To be both monster and man? His memories returned to him, Pythia knew the collision of the two would warrant a war all it’s own, and yet - “You still have purpose, Dom. When the time is right, I’ll be the one to point you in the right direction.” In her direction.

-

The cell was quiet, most of the prison perhaps empty after the great jail break during Halloween. But the Aspect themself was powerful; this wasn’t the first time he’d met them. Another body, another life. It seemed like a fever dream, one that Dominic was pulling himself out of slowly. At least the burning hunger went away when he saw Pythia, when he saw their form in front of him. “You make me wish I would’ve cleaned up,” it was an attempt at a joke, his humor a bit rusted and jagged now. He looked down at his hands, clenching them together for a moment.

He felt a warm breeze hit his back, sand beneath where he was kneeled on the ground. An illusion, but still a sense of freedom. Perhaps it would hurt more when he was ripped from this fever dream; when the Pythia would fade away, when her voice would be all that was left. “I feel like a fucking mess,” he admitted, pulling himself up to his feet now. She was there, and Dominic idly wondered how long it would be until he was free from the Senate. Until he could stand in front of her once more. “They’re going to try and fix me.” Take the leech out of him; return him to his Mars bloodline, “It’s all I fucking want. I can’t live like this. It’s not living. The Eye – they’re out to get you. The Asphodel.”

@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.”

The rise of his voice - a moment of frustration and anger was one of the only flickers of conviction the Pythia had seen of Eric in some time now. Hollowed out by his own discomfort - his choice to stradle the line between this life and the next would be his downfall. Unable to choose until all that remained was the pitiful indecision to return to a world that had already cast him aside once. "You should have spent these months learning to secure your own fate instead of wallowing in self-pity, abhorrence or expecting someone else to do it for you." A serpent's hiss rounded out the snap of her own fangs, the glimmer of hues daring him to test another bark in her presence. Still, she softens - smiles, and shakes her head gently, "I never needed to make you a monster, Eric. You've been one since birth - and everyone, including your mother, knew it." It's flippant, haphazard, the way she speaks. As though every word she spoke were facts well known. "You were exiled long before the pack turned it's back on you, and it seems you're itching to experience that all over again."

"If all you see here is destruction, you've not been looking hard enough." The asphodel - the Necronomicon, was wrought with the creation of all things frowned upon. To stop death in its tracks, open realms beyond this one, and bring about a world that no longer saw those with such an affinity banished to barren lands. Eric had yet to see the totality of the destruction that she could wrought and as she wove the intricacies of power around her finger, the once regaled seraphim condemned the volatile to a life of bridled pain. A shortened life, beyond the safe haven of those willing to do anything - his body would seek to reject the hearts granting - long life, and strength beyond all else. Rue the control he sought being safe - the fire within him deserved so much more. The spark of a flame ignites and the blackened candles surrounding the room cast long shadows across the room. "Your troubles are your own, Eric. I offered you opportunity, and you squandered it. Perhaps the harbinger won't mind another disappointment."

fxllenpythia​:

“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.”

          She spoke, an effortless command that was fit to seek out reason and not insight fear but it still made the inner child within them tremble. They always resounded that their bark was far worse than their bite, the Exile always falling mercy to sabotaging situations because of their indecisive nature. It was what wrought this collision now, him and a fucking fallen angel turned greater demon and though his jaw was clenched in that spasm of anxiety, Eric wouldn’t wilt under the idea of submitting to this creatures flawed tactics of unleashing evil upon the world they secretly, deep down, cherished. “No, I don’t feel fucking safe,” it was barked out with a rueful laugh, their face scrunched as though the Pythia would smite them for the mere admission, though the statement was paired with a haphazard shrug. One of many, that could resound another hollow laugh, but they bit the action back, instead nodding grimly. It was true that their cowardice had simmered them to this creature which lacked a back bone and only lashed out when backed into a corner; it was how they’d survived so long. “Yeah, I’m certainly more of a follower than a leader, carving out some wicked path of destruction, you got me there.” There was no sarcasm for it bore a sad truth for the lycan, “I’ll be a bit happier keeping my hands clean from all your troubles,” for once they’d stood their ground on an opinion instead of skulking towards what everyone else had done; what August had done. He often thought of the necromancer, their only friend once upon a time who they now no longer recognized as a dull malfeasance took over August’s gaze.

As her name flit through the mind of another, Pythia cracked out the ache in her neck with a rather jarring twist of her jaw. All in a days work, she supposed as the pull towards the other became something ethereal. A plea more than anything, as were all those seeking her out so reverently. Nobody chose to walk the path towards her without wanting something dire - power, revenge; death. It bled from their every whim and just as she’d expected, the air was so thick with it, she could taste the sweetness in the air. “Then you’ve been missing out for your entire life, Abel.” Ire doesn’t beseech her in being summoned this time, there are some who call to her who are hardly worth the price of their own soul, and yet - she knows that this one will cater to the necronomicon and herself in time.  Laughter splits concerning lips and Pythia presses her shoulders into the wall she rests upon, drawing herself to full height as she picks at dust within the air, “I’d argue that you’ve needed my help for a very long time, yet you’ve never quite made it this far before, have you?” Always toeing the line so readily blurred by those of his kind. The destruction so often molded from the skeletal foundations of blood magic only satisfied by those who could talk their way out of it’s damnation. Confident steps drew her closer until she could draw the chair out opposite him, plopping herself into it like a child as she lent forward and placed her chin in her hands, the sickly scent of his blood permeating satisfaction within her. “Tell me everything and don’t leave out a single detail,” she paused, hues narrowing for a moment before a saccharine grin split her features, “I’ll know if you do.”

          a gift for @fxllenpythia​,

          Abel’s relationship with the Pythia was complicated. He’d offered sustenance for the magic that kept them present in this realm a myriad of times in his adolescence, bad decisions spurred on by a mentor who was drunk off of the potent blood magic that the Pythia had devised. He hadn’t touched it since his last Sovereign had been taken out and it had taken a lot out of Abel to have tapped into such channel again to save Cain form the pits of the Inferno after he’d been banished on Halloween. The guilt feasted upon him with ease, this pitfall effect that opened doors that had once been brandished shut. Blood magic had this innate pull and ever since the seraphim had transformed his familiar into a human, Abel had already been attempting to delve into such magic again; a dark path that he only hoped would salvage Cain. Some believed becoming human would be a blessing but Cain had been a demon so long he figured Cain would not vie to be bound to such a mundane life once more.

A summoning of the Pythia was easy, light work considering all that Silas, his former sovereign and pseudo-parent had taught him. The Pythia used such potent magic to amplify their presence on this mortal plane but like any demon, he could note the ways they leeched off of emotion and need, too. “I’ve been avoiding this my entire life.” It’s started off the moment the summoning proves successful, Abel drumming his fingers on the table he sat in front of, a cloth now covering his bloodied hand. “But I think I might actually need your help for once.”

@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."

"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."

"As it should." It's deafening, the solidity in which she defiles the woman with her stoicism. It is how Leviathan has always intended it to be. Loyalty beyond all fault - and as it was with Kaan, their deception should be to all but her. "Necromancy is but a menial piece of all that you strive for. Appeasing Oztalun is all you need to do," it was something that Pythia could swallow, however barbed it was. The splinters of dark magic were otherworldly, and created the stepping stones to what the First offered. One did not exist without the other. "Should you wish to earn his favor, keeping mine would do you well," which wasn't entirely true - but Leviathan was certainly within the realm of taking all she'd offered away and then some. Undoubtedly, it'd land anyone in a bit of a pickle. "You'll make do." She smiles, like the edge of a jagged knife, "And how am I to trust that you're not of the same mindset Kaan was? Hm?"

a starter for @fxllenpythia, where: in between somewhere and nowhere

"It's funny, I've been loyal to this idea of you all my life, that appeasing another merely feels like treason," Python was always this dark whisper in the night, a tenebrous hug that nurtured, parasitic in it's need for more. Where loyalty to necromancy had been at the forefront of her very existent for some time, a new contender came forth under the First, or the Last as he'd been dreadfully converted to; but Efigenia was nothing if not a willing student under the pliable hands of dark magic. Loyalty was not to ever be confused for family, where she could sit amongst these equal horrors of dark arts, work alongside them and commit unspeakable acts; they all were only ever bound by their desires for the profane. "But I'll make do," she smiled, a catty tongue but for all of Pythia's influence the Advocate still would do anything the Archfiend requested, that much was clear.

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.