#pythia.

The blood of the Dahlia had always been so much sweeter, and it still spilled from the initiate’s throat into the stone of the coven home, further fed to the Necronomicon as Bastien stepped from it to Pythia. While the blood still coated the curve of his fingers, despite how it had been drawn across his tongue, the blade had been discarded beside the body of the witch. He would retrieve it later, clean it of its offering and return it to the holster that would ensure its presence for the next one. “You should have seen it,” he mused, delight etched into every curve and crevice of his features. “The way their precious sanctuary rotted away, the way that they cowered so pathetically,” the words resounded with the pure ecstasy that the vision had brought on, while his fingers twitched with the want to pull another one from the three sisters. 

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."

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.

Chaos and destruction were nearly in her grasp, a hint of temptation in the air as preparations seemed to be holding the city in a grip. She had made promises to the little lycan alpha, had sworn her alliances to Pluto and his vampires, and yet --- Lilith would always put herself above the rest of them. Which could have been the reason that she had come to this place, where she knew she would find Pythia. One of the few entities that could destroy that which Lilith wished to see destroyed. "I've heard such tantalizing gossip through the grapevine," she mused, devilishly teasing smile touched upon her lips.

The vision, or dream, whatever it had been, still crawled across his skin. Voices echoed within the depths of his mind, still begging to be let in, let in, let in. And Bastien continued to find himself looking over his shoulder, into the depths of the shadows that he passed by. Again and again, as if he expected to see someone enveloped within them. There was no fear instilled within him, but Bastien did not particularly enjoy the not knowing what the dream vision meant. Or what would come from it. Despite how many times he reached out and attempted to draw forth another vision, a finalization to what he had already seen. It was only after he had come up emptyhanded, again and again, that he had decided to take a break. To lounge within the seemingly common area with a noncigarette between his fingers. "Have you heard the news?" He mused upon seeing Pythia, a playful grin etched upon his lips. "The city seems to be crawling with new witches." Among other things.