Clutch 28 - Eggs

Dam: Gold Celimoth
Sire: Bronze Xermiltoth
Number of Eggs: 10
Summer 2017

Rebirth of the Elemental Quarter Egg
At the very base of this egg is the sooty bistre of bedrock blending upwards into gradient tones of sepia to coffee and finally russet, while throughout veins of sienna jaggedly cut along to peek through. Wafting just above, distinctive coils of nearly translucent ivory swirl and twine, wearing way dusty flecks of tan and beige along the uppermost edge, yielding an uneven appearance. With flaring incandescence, ginger and auburn lick and blaze just beyond, given life by smoke kindled ruby imbued with fiery scarlet, fluttering seamlessly into buttery tones of subdued gold. It all comes to a head, as it were, as the apex is drenched in sprays of stormy cobalt peaked with a foamy froth of azure and blue-gray, ever threatening to rain down into the embodiment of the fundamental foundations represented below.
Mnemonic Memories Egg
Captured in faded sepia tones, the creamy colored shell of this egg is overlaid with faint images that appear superimposed over one another. Darkened lines that then fade into pale swathes of beige as sweeping curves of darker taupe. Pictures that flicker in the uncertain light of the sands, sometimes darker and slowly seeming overexposed and then gone in the next shadows that pass. Still it seems familiar, oddly similar to other eggs in the clutch and only once faced directly on, completely different. Even the piled sand, swept around its curves and undulating away appears to change from one glance to the next.
This Ends in Fire Egg
A backdrop of midnight black makes the colors of this egg more vibrant and bright as they swirl around it. Bright licks of canary gold are pushed into the background by bright fire truck red and sunset orange, in weaving movements across the egg that draw the eye and in some light, seem to make it shimmer. The texture of the egg is smooth to the touch, especially where the weaving lines overlap, though rough where the black is collected along the base and tip of it. The flames that consume the circumference of the egg show no restraint, leaving nothing but ash and soot where the flames have taken their fill with no promise of somewhere cool to retreat, even to touch this egg is heated as though it's spent too much time in direct sunlight.
Wavelengths of Light Egg
From a distance, this egg might look as though it were pure white, only if one squints from the galleries would they catch some of the darker lines that cross over the shell. It is as though this egg has somehow passed through a prism and collected all the colors for itself on its pristine ivory shell. While colorful, it isn't vibrant, the pale azure, yellow, purple, pink, green, and red lines that crisscross over the shell were faded by sunlight and only clearly visible to those that make it to the sands to see. The lines are perfection, not squiggling or seeming without direction, circles that enrobe the shell in ring after ring of color without any becoming the dominant color that comes to mind. This egg might be the largest, or second largest in the clutch, but it's difficult to tell with how often it's half buried under the sands.
Drone, Hum, and Whirr Egg
Varied hues of gunmetal grays allow for the deceptiveness of depth and shadow that all too easily trick the eye into believing there are layers upon layers of interconnecting elaborate pathways that seemingly go on forever, winding deeply within themselves to a molten core. Flecks of green and crimson are scattered throughout, tucked away or right on the surface, sometimes catching the light just right to make them glow or flicker as if buzzing to life, while brilliant beams of gold zip along steely bridges passing their secrets from one node-like splatter of cerulean to another. It's not possible, right? The way that this egg seems to thrum with almost mechanical activity despite remaining perfectly still.
Storm's Aegis Egg
Certainly, not the largest of eggs, this dark royal blue and purple egg is somewhere among middling in size with the rest of the clutch. It doesn't mean that it's unnoticeable, with the bright white streaks that cut through the darker color and have an aura that brightens the darkened shell along the forked lines. A collection of brilliant white lines grace one side more than the other, as though somehow they've all been contained to one area of the shell while the other side is blessedly streak free and calm, with only bright specks of white across the top of it. Depending on how it's turned, it could look as peaceful as a warm summer evening, or as treacherous as a storm laden sea. To touch it's as smooth as an egg could be, with small raised spots where the bright white lines are most predominant, as well as the smaller specks across the top.
Improbable Dreams Egg
This egg tells a story illustrated in a painted hand, a mural of a draconic shapes touching tailtip to nosetip around an ovoid sphere at the egg's very apex, the first of many images that flow from one to the next to tell the tale of a life well-lived across the egg's stucco shell. Logic dictates the tale be told from youth to maturity, but rationale does not seem to be this egg's strong suit. It jumps through time and space at random from curves to base, sepia-toned figures sometimes small, sometimes large, sometimes partially obscured by a heavy application of fan-brushed mist, an implication of events whose resolutions are as of yet undetermined. One thing holds true: they are all interconnected, scenes fading and blending together seamlessly in one overwhelming melange with no real beginning, no real end, ageless and infinite, childlike and new, ancient and withered at once.
Mirror, Mirror Egg
Simplicity given ovoid form, this egg is terribly transparent compared to the complexity of its clutchmates, and clearly it likes it that way. Its shell is universally cloaked in a sharp, edgy chrome so polished that it reflects whatever surrounds it, mirror images distorted with a distinctly fun-house quality by its sleek oblong shape. If shifted to the just-right angle, there are even times the egg seems to vanish completely, devoured by the weyr's dark sands. Fret not. There's always a subtle glimmer to give it away out of the corner of one eye, flickering like a streak of mischief, playful and taunting. It won't let itself be forgotten, it's merely biding its time.
Binding Performance Egg
Antiquity rests upon the sands - the shell of this egg is yellowed and covered with tiny cracks throughout the glistening surface, the cruel touch of time making it's presence known over something that was once a thing of beauty. Faint rosy hues blush upon either side, adding a warm glow to an otherwise pallid complexion with a line of smoky haze connecting the two in a grim and emotionless smile. Two soulless orbs rest above, metallic flecks of persian blue peering out into the world that left this rough shell behind. The finishing touch to the crown of this peculiar ovoid form is a swirl of gold dust which sweeps down from the apex, spreading tiny circular wisps that fade into the crackling surface.
Outrun The Monster Egg
From a distance, it appears that this imperfect ovid glows a sickly shade of green. A closer inspection reveals veritable grayish tones without distinct shape - until you look away, that is. Then those graceful swirls transform in your peripheral vision, becoming the distorted impressions of grotesque faces pressed against seafoam colored glass in agony. Their mouths stretch unnaturally open in silent screams, distorted by the occasional press of handprints that reveal themselves and disappear again depending on the light. One side bears an uglier mark: a formless figure cloaked in the darkness of shadow, giving rise to goosebumps and that unshakable feeling of something is watching you. But when you look back at the egg, it's that innocuous green with elegant gray struck through. Surely it was just your imagination…
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