The red ink of Toun scratched along the parchment without ceasing for anything. His spindly fingers were splayed and rushing beyond all discernible rationality, yet every line he drew had a place. It was all coalescing into a pattern purpose built to accommodate his brothers and sisters. It was such complicated work in Toun's mind, but he aspired to the paradise in his vision. What he soon learned was that building a paradise for gods left subjective outcomes depending on the architect. The meddling residents all wanted to paint over Toun and Teknall's painstaking work.

The first that attempted, purely for the sake of ruination, was of course Vestec. To him, Toun's ink was not as easily erased as Teknall's notes, but the aberrations he wrought were not as easily corrected. Toun tried his best to contain and contextualise them so they would not cause a collapse of the entire system. It was all he could do while his mind was busy building the rest. To Vestec's taunts, Toun remained as stoic as he could, but the quiver in his voice told of contained offense. [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Vestec, this I promise. All that you corrupt shall be made anew. Here and onwards."[/b][/color]

Toun was not alone in his protests. He didn't even need to pause in his work. Other gods counterbalanced the chaos and drove him away. For that, Toun was grateful.

What came forth to Toun's mind in the following moments was a great reaffirmation of his desires. A wave of positive reward and divine inspiration. His fingers moved in new patterns, driven on by a force unlike him until the designs began to weave together and build themselves. This [i]unity[/i] of concepts was shocking to Toun, not because of any flaw they brought - On the contrary, it was pristine - but he realised then that his fingers were not fully recording his own mind's work. This contribution was provided by a vast intelligence beyond his own. [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"My sister, Vulamera...bless you."[/b][/color]

In spite of the meddlings, Toun redoubled his efforts. With his cohesion, their designs would be utterly complete no matter what challenge was brought forward. Perfection seemed so tantalisingly in reach.

So focussed was Toun on completing the Great Work that he barely noticed Slough being tampered with in the periphery of his senses. Even with the violent sacrifice of Ull'Yang, Toun trusted the embryonic life to persevere. And persevere she did, defending against forced influence and eventually sealing up entirely. Toun had no more words for Slough or anyone trying to reach her for now.

In a dip from the elation of Vulamera's encouragement. The Adversary reared his twisted features in Toun's direction. As with Vestec, Toun was not enamoured with his presence, but at least his additions to the world did not seek to undo it. Toun settled to work around such little blasphemies so that they might be dealt with precisely. As for the Adversary's comments, Toun was unmoved. [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"My vision is of paradise, Mammon. It shall not be denied, no matter your twisted words!"[/b][/color] Toun's voice raised with a fleck of impatience, [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Away with you! We have work yet to complete."[/b][/color]

The muse that inspired much of Toun's patterns, Illunabar, approached the parchment without harmful intent. Such subtle touches went by unnoticed by Toun in the grand scheme. They would not undo the work. Toun could compromise to paint them over later. The morsels that she took also went by unnoticed. [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"If only all my brothers and sisters were so benign, while being so creative."[/b][/color] he commented. Her music brought Toun out of his anger and gave his work a certain rhythm that would echo through the universe's consequences.

But all the music possibly heard could not stop the First Gale. Zephyrion's destructive presence forced Toun's attention as the embodiment of change shouted grief onto their work. His childish clasping of gasses and winds could have been accounted for. His taunts could be brushed away. His breath was the true ruination. It scattered Toun's patterns out of phase such that each countermeasure in place had to groan under the pressure and reform. To Toun's surprise, Zephyrion's influence did not ruin the plans, but transformed them into a shifting equilibrium.

[color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"What...?"[/b][/color] Toun breathed, astonished at this new complexity, [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Impossible...how do I correct the meddlings now?"[/b][/color] Toun's fingers splayed out and weighed the parchment down as he desperately tried to hunt down and chase the broken parts of the design. The little corruptions that would tear it apart if unchecked were his priority, but they always shifted, always eluded. He could barely keep up with it all. [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Zephyrion, what you have done is abhorrent! This will take aeons to correct!"[/b][/color]

In spite of the futility of it all, Toun worked away, correcting what he could. His posture was now more hunched, his features looking less natural now. Something inside of him was being tested to the limits, reflected in his physical form. In particular was a strange detail. What looked to be a jagged, loose hair painted onto where his left eye would be on his featureless face. The tiniest of cracks upon his otherwise flawless white skin.

Other little details came about uninvited. Niciel tried to add little pockets of purest goodness as if the corruption of Vestec could be cancelled by net influence. Astarte, the playful and unassuming creature of magic placed little divots into the level field of reality, blemishing the work further. The only thing that seemed to fit was when Toun finally noticed that Slough had been blown out of her bowl by Zephyrion's wind. Her trail of life seemed to be the only thing that held a semblance of fitting, as it was originally designed for her.

[color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"All these stains...all these blemishes and breaks..."[/b][/color] Toun huffed desperately, [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Too complicated...Too disgusting...I will correct them all..."[/b][/color]

Toun was dead to the world in his focus. His work didn't seem to have an end as he tried to hold everything together. He wished he had noticed the fleshy mass of Jvan approaching. What she did to the parchment was beyond what Toun could tolerate. The way she chanted and burned into the smallest detail of the unfinished work.

[color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"No...NO!"[/b][/color] Toun's shape rattled and shuddered in distress. [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"NO MORE! STOP!"[/b][/color] In an attempt to cease Jvan's abominable acts, Toun's arms shot out onto Jvan's surface, sharpening and extending claws as they flew. He latched onto the depthless flesh of her body and took the rest of his body onto her, now warped beyond humanoid proportions. With all the strength he had, he tried to tear at Jvan's flesh in a frenzy. His lips formed and sucked in the shape of a mouth, growing pointed teeth as his jaw joined in the rending and tearing. He shouted as he attacked, [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"You shall not ruin my vision! You shall not corrupt this world! YOU SHALL NOT CORRUPT IT!"[/b][/color]

Chunks of flesh flew in every direction. Blood and muscle and fat and bone ran across Toun's skin in gathering rivulets. Yet, for all Toun's flailing, no wounds he could inflict were beyond superficial. His godly might had been poured into the parchment that was now being soiled by Jvan's influence and he had none left to stop her. Still, he was berserk, beyond reason. He tried one last thing to stop Jvan that would have been ill-advised by any being. He interposed himself between herself and the parchment for only a moment.

Toun shrieked and recoiled in a pain that only gods could endure and live through. His body scattered back in a heap as he immediately realised his mistake.

A tense moment passed that allowed Jvan to finish her work unabated, but Toun lay twitching from the touch of her influence. Still with elongated limbs and bladed fingers, Toun began to sit up slowly. It was not normal, the way he moved. Rather than contract his front to bring his body up, it was as if his upper body peeled upwards off the surface of the void that he laid upon, starting from the lower torso and putting a bend in his back. The rest of his body followed like a warm slice of bread until the head on his elongated neck was all that was left limp. As his chin shot down in an arc to reveal his face, one detail sung out shock amongst all that had known Toun's previous perfection. It was not the toothy mouth, still dripping with Jvan's flesh and blood. It was not the long face that accommodated his rending and tearing. It was the eye.

Before, Toun had no eyes. He had no facial features at all. But now his previously featureless left eye socket had a hole of shattered porcelain. It was placed exactly where Zephyrion's breath had weakened him, and it was the thoroughfare for Jvan's power for that tiny moment. Through this hole, bordered by raw dark-red flesh, was a softly glinting blue eye, wide and surrounded by a black sclera. It stared out at Jvan with equal parts judgement, fear, and madness.

Toun's upper body lurched forward until his seemingly boneless legs ascended him up to his feet. He was hunched, with his bladed fingers listing lazily from side to side. His head was craned upwards, staring teeth and and eye at Jvan as he paces forward slowly, surely, and unnaturally. The remaining blood in his mouth seemed to bubble softly, as if he was breathing angrily.

It was only then, after Toun's trauma, that Logos finally intervened. Meddling gods were finally forced away. Logos ordered that the corruption be undone, but to that, Toun stopped in his paces.

[color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"...Undo the corruption...?"[/b][/color] Toun's voice quivered with seething hate and sadness. His body seemed to contract then, scattering off the blood and flesh and returning to humanoid form, everything except his wide, crazed eye. Voun paced carefully back to the parchment, and spoke with dutiful words, but hopeless tone, [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Give me time..."[/b][/color]

Toun's fingers elongated again and tried to correct what he could, but he found the cohesion had set all the parts in place. Nothing he could do would root out the atrocities, no matter how hard he tried. In this revelation, Toun retracted his fingers and stared at the final product. He did not know what to do. In the greatest regret of the best intentions, Toun's red ink came not from his fingers, but from his new eye. It welled and filled up the gap between his flesh and porcelain skin, then spilled quickly down his face in a solid streak.

Toun turned to Logos as if a soldier was reporting the defeat in a pivotal battle of a war. His rasping voice contained only regret, trying to process all that had happened. [color=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Logos, King of Gods. You are too late. A world is on this parchment, but not a paradise."[/b][/color]

[hider=Sumthing Sumwhere Be Airy]
Toun notes all the meddlings on the parchment and tries to account for them. The additions create complications that wear on his patience.

Toun vows to Vestec that everything corrupted shall be replaced and renewed.

Zephyrion's gale causes Toun some minor panic and weakens his exterior with a hairline fracture over his eye.

In a desperate but vain attempt to stop Jvan lacing the design with eldritch horrors, Toun attacks her and ends up suffering some of her influence. This seeps in through the crack that Zephyrion created and marked him with an unsettling scar; his eye.

Logos intervenes and reminds Toun of his duties, but however hard Toun tries, he cannot root out the chaos in the parchment and gives up trying.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7OHG7tHrNM&t=30]He cries a single red tear from his new eye.[/url]
[/hider]