what does the future hold / .

@oraculumx

177 posts

where. lupercal who. @bloodxlevent

It was vile, the way that more and more lycans flocked to the dirt paths of Lupercal. The smell of them was atrocious enough, now Bastien had to practically share quarters with them. If one more thought to touch him, he'd ensure they were used next in his attempt to draw forth another vision. Still hindered, he'd not yet approached Trivia, or Apollo, or any other that potentially held the answers that he so desperately sought. For he'd yet to come up with the words necessary to seek assistance, to ask for help. So to keep himself from causing a commotion within the center of lycanville, Bastien had set to wandering. Perhaps hoping to garner some better idea of where he had now set himself up. Coming upon the Moon Gate had not been his intention, especially after he had sworn he'd keep away from it. He had no use for it, after all.

#interaction.#levent.

"Is that what you want? An apology?" Markus couldn't help but raise his brow at that because it did sound a bit petulant, then again, nobody had ever accused his brother of not being petty. As if a few words though could balm the injury that scorched the differences between them, Markus would refrain from being surprised that Bastien hadn't seen that one coming and would instead try to dig a little deeper. As far as his brother would allow him to, anyway, while he cared about very few people in this world. Bastien and that ridiculous mop of hair happened to be one of them. "Can two people not survive on opposite sides of the battlefield? Is there even a battlefield?" More playful than anything because at present there was no obvious conflict, just two people with suddenly very different philosophies. "They have a vet, I'm assuming they do nails and washes too, but something tells me that's not going to work for you."

The repeating of what he had claimed himself incapable of doing sounded pathetic to his own ears. As if Markus were asking such a thing from a child. But Bastien hadn't been the one to end things. He hadn't been the one to betray the Asphodel, Pythia, and all that they had stood for. And then he'd been forgiven, as if the apology had flitted from his lips during the last time he had seen Levent. His nose scrunched at the mere thought of letting such words be crafted from his tongue, "Perhaps I do." Because how sweet would that sound coming from the elve's own tongue? Maybe Bastien was simply that petty. "Isn't there always?" For while the book was no more, were they not already preparing for something else? Had they not sworn themselves to Oztalun? "You'd so easily forgive and forget? A betrayal of this magnitude?" There had been a genuine hint to the words, the questions posed as if Bastien were stuck with no idea which path to further venture down.

#interaction.#markus.

"That sounds like how it works, whoever kills the sovereign becomes the next sovereign." Markus nodded, confident that his brother would find out one way or another. With any luck, Trivia would give Bastien the answers that he was looking for, it wasn't the entirety of the oracle's magic, but it was a significant part of his ego. These visions that Bastien held onto were among his oldest companions. "I take it you two haven't been able to reconcile?" It was difficult when someone decided to grow a conscience, Bastien and Levent had plagued this city and killed a God together - which said nothing of their previous history. Maybe Markus was more dramatic but he'd be doing a good deal more to try and get the elve's attention: what did the scorned do in this age? Key cars? Send threatening DMs? Stalk?

Though it was not, Bastien would at least have some fun while doing it. Who didn't enjoy a little ritual sacrifice to brighten the day? Perhaps it would take his mind off of his lack of visions for at least an hour, perhaps two, if he were lucky. "Neither of us are particularly keen on apologizing," his nose wrinkled at the mere thought of it. What did he need to apologize for? Seeking the power that had always rightfully been his? For not running when all looked grim for the Asphodel coven? Bastien was almost certain that the list would be long within the minds of others. Well, those that had recovered from the torment within their dreams. Maybe he'd do the same to Levent. Or maybe he wouldn't give the elve the satisfaction of knowing that he still pouted over this. "Tell me," he started, as his gaze looked around them, "does this vile place at least have a salon?" For he would absolutely not be moving in if it did not.

#interaction.#markus.

At that suggestion, Markus only rolled his eyes, "And what? Bind yourself to a sovereign for life?" Some of these covens historically didn't bat an eye when someone wished to walk away, but that wasn't the case if they were discovered to be a criminal. Bastien would be marked and at their mercy if anything ever came to light. "It's beneath you," as was this cesspool but at least here Markus had autonomy that Bastien would also share in. "If there's a way to get your visions back it won't be in the halls of those prudes, it'll be with the Asphodel, or maybe one of the elves nearby." These dogs would wag their tails for anyone who called them a good boy and tossed them the occasional bone, "Besides, you'll be much closer to the Moon Gate out here." Bastien could cut his commute to go see his situationship in half.

Bastien had made certain choices based solely upon the insurance of Pythia at his back, that he would not be left out in the cold when the blood dripped from his hands. Vivianne perhaps hadn't understood all that he had done for the Asphodel. Or perhaps she had, and her intention had always been to trap him within another coven. Where he would be at the mercy of its sovereign, unable to perform the sacrifices that had become so favorable. He supposed if it were ever something he would have actually considered, it would have worked out. Perhaps his eye had momentarily turned towards the Narcissus, but the oracle had never fathomed joining a coven that was not the Asphodel. "Perhaps I could sacrifice one of the sovereigns, take over myself," a grin slipped across his lips at the mere thought. Hadn't that little runt been given sovereign of her old coven? Perhaps that would be where he set his gaze. "If Trivia has no answers for me, then I will seek out the elves," there was a minor hesitation, his thoughts straying for only a moment, "but I have no use of that gate." Was he still salty? Absolutely.

#interaction.#markus.#just imagine bas as the :gus: emoji

The thought was there, what either would do if the other was incarcerated, but that was the risk that the necromancers ran. It might have been wiser to move onto a region that wasn't so militant against witches, but times would change, and really, where was the fun if there wasn't also a little danger? Wherever Bastien wanted to put down roots, Markus would concede to, if only until something larger called him elsewhere. The center of the Asphodel's power was here and Oztalun's requirements were far less daunting than the book had been: kill for power, that was it. No weekly meetings on how their plans for world domination were going. "These dogs only care about milkbones and anal, they don't care about where we come from and they don't ask a lot of questions." The magic they needed amounted to little more than a few parlor tricks, but Alder was interesting, and the Jotunn was something else entirely. "Elves come and go as they please, eladrins; you'd be safe here, Bastien. Even if Rome wanted to come sniffing around the lycans would run them out based on pride alone."

Safe; the word was almost laughable. For how safe could Bastien be, or ever hope to be? His hands had centuries worth of blood smeared against their palms, the lives of all those sacrificed in the name of the book or the visions that he had plucked for himself. Already those who had sworn themselves to the Necronomicon, to the Asphodel, who had revealed their true identities had been tracked down. Had been stripped of their magic and cast within the shadows. Bastien did not know what safe was, but he would be damned if he allowed himself to be thrown back into a cage. "I've been told to join one of the covens within the city," several times, if he were being honest. But did the amount of times truly matter so much as the fact that it had been advised of him? That notion was almost as laughable as Bastien ever being deemed safe. "I suppose of my choices, it would be the wisest. At least until my visions have been returned to me," for then what would he need the protection of the lycans for?

#interaction.#markus.

Blood had painted his hands, over and over again, as the spells were chanted into the dark of the forest. Visions had come of their own accord, but Bastien had become skilled at plucking them from the Graeae's hands himself. Until now. Until that which was sacrificed was for naught. Perhaps her confession should have come with some relief, that he were not the only one suffering without. Yet, it only proved to set him further on edge. Powerful as he was, the visions had been a part of him. And now that had been ripped away, effectively leaving a hole within him. "None that have come to me, and none that I have been able to grasp myself," a confession of his own, though Bastien felt as if he were toeing the line of misguided loyalty.

So, perhaps in the end it hadn't been the change within herself but rather a change within the Graeaes themselves. Vivianne wasn't sure how much she cared for them - they were these mysterious overtly powerful and ancient beings that had picked her out among many, just as they once had Bastien and hundreds of others throughout history to be unique. She didn't know to worry for their well-being or not, or even to worry about her own.

At the moment, Vivianne felt bittersweet about losing her visions. "On one hand, it's a lot more peaceful in my head. On the other..." She trailed off, her head angling. Surely her fellow Oracle would know exactly what she meant without so many words - visions had been a part of them for so long that it was more than odd to be without them. Vivianne sighed and shook her head, standing up. "My number is on the napkin." She gestured her chin toward the one she left on her side of the table. "I may not be a witch anymore and we both might not be Oracles right now but..." Again, she trailed off. "Have a good day, Bastien."

END.

#interaction.#vivianne.#end.#bas calling her at 2 am; 'did you have a vision yet??'

"I doubt she'll manage it, but it would be amusing to watch her try." Markus wouldn't want to watch his brother suffer, but neither would he offer to help him when it was so much more appealing to wait for Bastien to inevitably ask. The Asphodel's members had dwindled and talent was scarce, as were people that the other could definitively trust. However they ribbed, there was nothing that Markus would not cut down if it stood in Bastien's way. "No no, but I need to keep the spare bedroom open in case I have an actual guest over. I take it the senate was cutting you cheques the entire time that you were in their cell?" Markus did not doubt that his brother had two-thousand-year-old assets that he'd been keeping in reserve for precisely the time when he'd need them to bust himself out of financial duress; that was prophecy for you.

Bastien simply hated asking others for help, especially when having to admit that his magic was not responding as it should. The very thought of having to stoop to such a level made him sick. Though, he supposed that when the time eventually came, asking of his brother would be a much easier pill to swallow. Over, of course, having to voice it to Trivia, or gods forbid, Apollo. "Ah, well since that is unlikely to happen, I suppose the spare bedroom is mine. If I should need it, that is," though, it would be unlikely that even Bastien would need it. Accommodations had never been a particular worry for him. "Of course, for my good behavior," a grin slipped across his lips, for the oracle had just about lost his mind within the cells of the senate. Not to mention he'd hardly relinquished the vision that he had received of his inevitable escape. Oops. "Have you had any problems here?" Or rather, had any of the mutts grown suspicious yet.

#interaction.#markus.

"Have you considered asking your patron?" Maybe if Bastien asked the Graeae nicely, they'd start letting him stick his hand in the cookie jar again, "Trivia might have some insight, though somehow I imagine she's still pressed about the whole-" everything. Markus just gestured vaguely over it though, still, the necromancer if this unfortunate little affliction was limited to Bastien or if that other Oracle shared this present condition. "My home is open to you if you need a place to stay; the couch is very comfortable. It pulls out and everything."

If there were ever a time to mock his brother, now would be that moment. But Bastien held his tongue. For now, until Markus eventually said something else that deserved to be mocked. Though, he supposed he did have many years to make up for. "Perhaps she'll try to kill me first," how exciting, it had been a while since Bastien had some real fun. Well, aside from actually being killed. And he didn't particularly want that to happen, given how he quite liked the way his hair took to the bleach of this century. "A pull out couch? Are you poor?" His nose wrinkled at the mere thought of pulling out a couch. And then actually sleeping on it. God forbid.

#interaction.#markus.

There was a short moment when Vivianne hesitated, debating if it was worth giving him the truth. She looked at Bastien and silently wondered if they were both lost and confused about the visions and oracles they'd once regularly recieved and now had none. Or if perhaps it was only herself that was suffering this - if maybe she had lost her Oracle gift. But it was not a thing so easily lost, and even just the fact that Bastien had posed the questions made her more confident that he was trying to figure out the same thing she was. "No," she finally replied, and it felt like a rare opportunity of connecting with him. "... You too?"

Blood had painted his hands, over and over again, as the spells were chanted into the dark of the forest. Visions had come of their own accord, but Bastien had become skilled at plucking them from the Graeae's hands himself. Until now. Until that which was sacrificed was for naught. Perhaps her confession should have come with some relief, that he were not the only one suffering without. Yet, it only proved to set him further on edge. Powerful as he was, the visions had been a part of him. And now that had been ripped away, effectively leaving a hole within him. "None that have come to me, and none that I have been able to grasp myself," a confession of his own, though Bastien felt as if he were toeing the line of misguided loyalty.

#interaction.#vivianne.

The smell of peroxide meant Bastien wasn't far away; next came the familiar feeling of the witch's magic. "Little brother." Markus greeted as the other approached, "What do the cards say? Anything yet?" Bastien hadn't had a vision since the world had righted itself, "Maybe we need to get you a new deck; there's some inside that has dogs on them; you'll love them." Markus smiled as he led the other through the gates so they could get more comfortable within the walls.

The mere mention of his lack of visions had his eyes narrowed, for it had felt like a part of himself had been stripped away. Though it seemed to be quite the pattern, having parts of himself taken. The annoyance only lasted so long upon his features, before Bastien rolled his eyes quite comically, "The day I get any sort of deck with mutts is the day you can put me into the ground, connard." Though his apparent dislike of the lycans didn't seem to prevent him from following his brother, into the lion's den, so to speak. Perhaps what he found within could benefit the return of the Asphodel.

#interaction.#markus.

#interaction.#levent.#end.

"You'd be surprised." She didn't want to suggest the Dahlia Coven, if only out of some sense of protectiveness, but they had been known to welcome those who regretted dark pasts. If Bastien decided to search them out than it was now Abel responsibility to deem him worthy or not. Vivianne hesitated before continuing: "If you don't find a way to move on, you may just fall back in on the same patterns as before." And where had that brought him? She wanted to say so, but the words were clear even without speaking them out-loud. Half of Vivianne genuinely wanted to help her fellow Oracle and the other half was still wary and suspecious.

The same patterns; as if Bastien would choose now to make new choices, to shift himself upon a different path. As if his hands were not marked for eternity of the choices that he had always made. Blood magic had been all that he had known, from the moment that he'd been brought into this world all those centuries ago. What would she have him do, turn away from it now? Become another witch of minimal intrigue? His lips pressed together, rolled as if he truly considered the idea that she had presented to him. "Have you had another vision? Since this timeline was shifted."

#interaction.#vivianne.

#interaction.#levent.

where. outside lupercal who. @markusalarie

The stench of mutt was heavy in the air, and Bastien almost regretted his decision to venture so close to the walls. If it had not been for Markus' choice to establish himself within Lupercal, then he surely would not have. Bastien had no distaste for lycans, he simply did not care for them in the slightest. "Are you having fun? Playing fetch with the little dogs," of course the joke was to be expected, for why would the witch pass up the opportunity to do so at the expense of others?

#interaction.#markus.

You did this to me. There would be a selfish satisfaction upon those words, one the burrowed itself so deep within the seemingly dead heart of the witch. One that would be considered at a much later time. The tightening of fingers against his neck were sure to leave their mark, bruises that would be easy enough to remove, should he want to. Remembrance would be what Levent wanted of him, as he pushed his hips forward, as he buried himself so sharply within him. A groan pulled so harshly from his throat, even as the elf kept his tight hold. There had been little preparation, and the tight muscles had offered some resistance. But Bastien would be lying if he said he would not enjoy every moment of this. Curled fingers pressed crudely against the wall he had been pushed upon, that he was repeatedly pushed against as Levent made it known how he wished for the witch to remember this moment. To remember him. Oh, but how would Bastien ever forget? They were destined, written within the threads of fate. Levent could speak his goodbyes in any form, and the oracle would still know that their paths would meet once again. A breathy laugh slipped between parted lips, before it turned into a strained groan. The elf was cruel with his slow movements, with his sharp thrusts that would leave Bastien begging for more. His gaze slipped over his shoulder, to watch as Levent watched himself slide into the oracle. Had he ever seen anything so divine? Fingers pressed to his neck were soon replaced with the other's lips, with his teeth as yet another mark was crafted against his skin. "You couldn't deny the fates," words were breathy, strained, as they slipped through parted lips. Ones that curled at the edges, that same old knowing smirk. Levent had created the pace, languid thrusts that the witch moved his hips to meet each time. "You wanted this, you still want this," though perhaps that was a partial confession from the witch himself, who, despite what he knew of destiny, understood that their paths had veered once more.

#interaction.#levent.

Somehow, it felt like the Asphodel had not let her go yet. She didn't really expect it from Bastien given their several thousand years of friendship, but the rest of them just confused her. She had turned on them and made a choice that would probably backfire on her eventually. August was...well, currently in a padded room. Yurena had an entire coven to run now even though it was just one of her. Yurena. There was a part of her that was annoyed by the lots they had been given. Where the witch had seemed to be pardoned, she had gotten nothing. She was here sulking with no real goal other than to just keep living her life. And that fucking sucked. "Bastien, I don't know what your coven is supposed to do now. I'm not a part of it anymore. Why don't you as the Pythia?"

Betrayal had come from every angle, in manners that still seemed to shift and form within the coven. One after another, they dropped like flies; some wished only to separate themselves, others wished to tear the Asphodel apart how they saw fit. The book was gone, the coven disbanded, but Bastien still bore his mark as if it were still the chance for so much more. Lucretia had done what she did, had made her choices, and many perhaps would have expected Bastien to sever his connection to her. To perhaps serve her upon a platter to a creature with a ravenous appetite. Maybe he still would, after he had retrieved the many sunglasses she had stolen over the years. "I did not say the coven," he stated, an almost annoyed edge to his words. "I said, we. As in, you and me. Or do I need to spell it out differently still?"

#interaction.#lucretia.

Vivianne eyed him silently for a moment, unconvinced, not completely daring to believe a coven could be so easily destroyed. It's members might perish and run but the ideals and the history that they'd made was forever. Some might still latch on to them, some might still have it reform if it hadn't already. Vivianne knew better than to believe that the Asphodel and their goals were gone forever but she hoped that at least there would be generations and years before anything like them rose again.

"Then you must be looking for another coven to join?" Her head tilted slightly. "Or are covens beyond you, now?" A witch alone was a witch vulnerable.

A coven to join; once more, it was being asked of him. Whether he would be seeking another coven, whether he wanted such a thing. While Bastien had relented that perhaps the Asphodel was dead and gone to Vivianne, he had said otherwise to Efigenia. Yet, the thought was intriguing. To find himself within another coven, using what power he could from them for his own personal gain. "I had not considered such a thing," he stated, with an almost thoughtful edge to him. "The Asphodel had been the only one," there was an almost solemn hint to his words now, as if he were granting her some look into him. "And I cannot imagine another coven will want me after that."

#interaction.#vivianne.

what does the future hold / . @oraculumx - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag