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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.