[center][h1]Khthon[/h1][/center]

Khthon awakens sluggishly, each new sensation slowly seeping through the cracks of his newborn form. Though he has no eyes, the image of the black, barren shore scorches his mind. Though he has no ears, he can barely perceive the distant crackling of the uncertain not-stars, and the vast unyielding silence smothering the world. Though he has no limbs, the black sand's soft embrace comforts him all the same.

His body lacks many things, he can feel it. The other Gods, for if he is a God, then they must be as well, have appendages and visages, eyes and mouths and limbs, flexible forms, impossible shapes.

They can move. They can make sound.

He cannot. Not yet.

His form is rigid. He is solid and simple in shape, a large featureless monolith, faded in color and awaiting definition. As the sand and fog flow and countless possibilities flit between being and non-being, he stands still, unmoving. A rare show of permanence in this world hellbent on remaining indeterminate.

It feels right in a way impossible to describe. But it also feels incomplete. The form is right, but so would others. The material isn't [i]wrong[/i], but it is lacking something. It feels like there's a last piece of the puzzle to be uncovered, one that will remain hidden in this blank canvas unless he takes the first step and [i]changes[/i].

While Khthon's body is inflexible, it does not mean that it is unmalleable. Just as the power of creation and shaping calls to the newborn world, so does it resonate with the God's very body. He observes his God-Siblings for a moment, takes in their shape, observes which parts move and how, trying to devise a plan.

Khthon's first words aren't words, but rather the earsplitting cracking and shattering of his body, and the crashing of his shards unto the sand.

He does not remain still for long, however. His shards soon start to move and rearrange themselves, fusing into a new, more mobile body, better suited for interaction. Where once stood a pillar of grey matter, now crawls a strange, five-legged mass, each section of his body still sharp and jagged from the previous shattering.

He takes a first clumsy step, and then another, and another, and soon finds himself cautiously moving around the shore, the sharp points of his legs tracing long looping line and pinprick holes in the sand. This new body is a clumsy, inexperienced construction, a prototype in every ways, and yet Khthon feels proud. This is the first step towards something much, [i]much[/i] greater.

He does not much like being on the shore, he realizes. The open air is uncomfortable, the constant blinking of the would-be stars is slightly irritating, and the occasional stares of his God-Siblings makes him feel exposed. He feels as if he wasn't meant to be seen so openly, exposed so carelessly. He does not dare attempt to speak first: doing so feels like revealing too much, and he does not wish to break the soothing silence currently enveloping them either.

Khthon feels one of his leg sink into the black sand once more, and finally properly examines it. Soft, flowing, and easily moved, yet surprisingly solid beneath his feet, each grain feeling like a broken shard of something greater, like each shard composing his own body. He curiously digs a bit with a leg, scoring a deep mark on the shore, and it feels... right. He digs a bit more, with more enthusiasm, and slowly, a hole begins to form.

He wonders what might be hidden in the sand's depths. He thinks he might want to find out.