[center][h1]ᦓ꠸᥅ꪀꪖ[/h1][/center]

[color=#e1ceff]Before the horizon-less beach of black sand, before the chatter of new-born gods, before [i]they[/i] came into being–

There was noise. Distinct. Muddied. Present. Boundless. It was not a physical noise, not quite real, but it left impressions nonetheless. The murmur of being more than what it was now – not that [i]they[/i] had a clue what [i]it[/i] referred to – the wish to build anew upon half-formed foundations; the want to discover secrets long lost to an ill-defined concept of time; they all blended into [i]noise[/i].

[i]Ah. This won’t do at all.[/i]

It was with this displeasure that this new-born god settled into being on that foggy, black beach. That, and a name.

[i]Sirna[/i]. It was a hazy remnant of a past that lingered, the only thing that stuck in the gaping lack of knowledge present in their head – or what served as a head. Their body seemed to be incorporeal at the moment, a mass of indecisive shadows that blurred at the edges and chased away the fog around it. It was in this form that Sirna observed the setting they had found their self in, quietly taking in the sounds, the sights, the actions that seemed to be more real than the [i]noise[/i] they had been lost in before.

There were others. A colourful spread of personalities, and forms, and capability. It was hardly any time at all before they gravitated towards their own groups. Some stayed on their own, pursuing separate goals. It was about the time when the one fascinated with rocks buried himself in the sand that Sirna realised that their displeasure had never quite gone away, and that it was because the [i]noise[/i] had not gone away. It simmered somewhere beneath the surface – the surface of what, Sirna did not know – and it was cramped, restless. Noise was not the right term for it, now that Sirna had heard true sound from the voices of the other fledgling gods, but it was... intruding.

[i]It needs space[/i], they thought.

And so there was.

Nothing in the physical world changed. In another place, on another plane, however, something [i]yawned[/i]. A space expanded, unseen and unfelt – but perhaps sensed by the other wandering gods – and Sirna felt the noise recede. It did not disappear, but the distant murmur it became was a far sight better than the dense, bubbling broil it had been. It was contained. Disorganised, perhaps, but contained all the same.

Away went Sirna’s displeasure. In its place was a buoying merriment. This was better! Much better! A hue of midnight blue tinted their blurry, shadow form. Satisfied, Sirna began to make their way over to the water’s edge. Idly watching everyone else had sparked curiosity, now that they were no longer bothered by the relentless noise in their nonexistent head.

What [i]was[/i] so fascinating about drinking from this strange sea?[/color]

[center][h2]~[/h2][/center]
[hider=ACTIONS TAKEN]
• [b]SURREAL:[/b] Sirna creates the realm of dreams, an incorporeal, unseen plane of existence that can only be accessed through sleep, unconsciousness, or other godly means.
[indent]• -2 Conviction
• Minor Ripple
• 20% Turbulence[/indent]
[right]Conviction Balance: 3[/right][/hider]