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This would be one of the few things that brought a sense of life into his existence. He, who had been around prior to the appearance of mortal life. He who had - with the aid of his sibling and his beloved mother - created the very world in which mortal lifeforms spent their time.

Oh, how he sorrowed over the state of the green sphere. He missed it's original state of beauty. The family trio had unified their prowess to create a private paradise, in which they could endlessly bask in the warmth of light. A place that, in that time, could not know fear or anguish. There was no darkness. All around, the land was vibrant green, with rare places of brown, or white.

The oceans had been vast, and the most beautiful shade of blue that one could ever hope to see. The plant life had only known to grow until content with its size. Their creations, like those who made them, had not known mortality. Eating, or drinking, it had only been for physical and emotional pleasure. He could still recall the bittersweet taste of the soft, yellow fruit that had grown in abundance. A fruit that now, was never to be found on the green sphere, for it could not survive in a place of mortality.

A fruit that he could never enjoy again, because he had lost those ancient friends whom had been formed from the very essence of the celestial plain. Those original creations of false life were long gone now. Victims of the plague of shadows that the Dark God had lain upon the world. A curse, that now, prevented genuine immortals from being born upon the terrain of the green sphere. Yes, there were beings who had adapted in order to thrive in a false sense of divinity. The Fae, whom served his sister with such outstanding loyalty, could live forever under fixed circumstances.

While within a spectral void in which time could not exist, they were free to thrive for all eternity, so long as they remained in high spirits. Yet, death was always a possibility - and it was always there, waiting for a chance to claim the ever unwilling spirits of the mortal. Nothing that was born within the realm of mortality, could genuinely exist forever. Sickness, homicide, unexpected accidents - there was always a means of ending life. He knew it. All who lived upon the green sphere were painfully aware of this cruel truth. Many had perished while trying to seek out a means of escaping the clutches of Død, won all knew to fear. Such a pointless task.

The only good to come from the Plague of Shadows, was the assurance that creation was free to continue for all of eternity. They could never run out of the material in which they created their marvelous creatures, because they had long since found a means of recycling all that was put to use. His particular means of creation had changed drastically over his time of consciousness. Of course, this was a result of necessity, not from mere whims of desire. No longer did he combine the material of the celestial realm with the fluid that endlessly flowed through his body. The silvery blood of he, a god, held so many uses. Never could he run out of it, and he had indeed tested that theory to determine whether or not it was fact.

Blood was his means of creation. Something that he could, and would, never change. Now inhabiting a dimension in which he could call his own, despite the fact that there were others present within it, he had developed a specialized means of creation. In the center most area of his temple, there thrived a pool of soft pink oils. The dense fluid was so thick, and so unique, that one could dive into it then emerge completely dry. It was through this pool, that he could birth thousands of new animals. From the blood of a pre-existing species, he could grow thousands of new individuals in soft, artificial wombs. From his blood and prowess, he could perform the delicate task of molding a new species. The pool was, if nothing else, the foundation for his fertility. He was a male, and by all accounts, lacked a means of physically birthing offspring.

His body lacked any means of behaving like that of a natural female - something that he genuinely envied his mother, and his sister for. As such, the pool had become a vital means of his, asexual reproduction, as he would call it. A few drops of his silver blood, when combined with the waters of the pool, would form a soft bundle of tissue. Tissue that, without his instruction, would be worthless. This bundle, deep red, and as little more than a small ball, would sink to the bottom of the pool. From there, any empty sack that could act as a womb would gladly accept it. He would then use his own influence to control it's growth and development. The growth of every new cell, the development of every nerve and bone - all would occur as a result of his will alone.

This period would determine everything about the future development of any new individual members of this unique species. The amount of time taken to grow within a natural womb, how early offspring could be born without risk of immediate death, coloration, and so on. His behavior while developing a new species would determine all of it. These artificial wombs, consisting of living pouches containing a darker pink fluid, which was fed into them by a single tube - or umbilical cord as he preferred to call them - were his means or reproduction. The false uteruses had each been created from his flesh and blood. Such was how he was able to recreate a female state.

The pink fluid held many purposes, but each revolved around allowing a fetus to grow and thrive. When these fetus' were ready to greet the realm outside of their artificial mother organs, the wombs would spit them out. The uteruses would tear as an X, and expel all that was housed inside of them. The pink fluid will have been cut off only minutes prior, preventing any excess waste. The body, defenseless and writhing, would be pushed out. Often times, into his waiting hands. Someone would always be present to take hold of the newborn, and to care for it as it grew.

He would tend to these helpless newborns, and watch over them as they grew into their adult stage. From there, he would decide whether or not to make his new species a gift to the mortal world, or hide them safely within his vast sanctuary for all of time. Death was not unavoidable for these precious creations, for they had been formed with the intention of living in a realm where predator and prey live and die while seeking to ensure the survival of their own species.

Many meet their fate at his hand, and from their blood, he would go on to produce hundreds, if not thousands, of new members of that breed. In a sense of the world, his cruelty came in the form of sending his offspring into the mortal realm. Such would be where they learned of terror, starvation, sorrow, and every other state of being that would otherwise be left unknown while in the Hidden Realm.

Such was the way. Those deemed fit enough, and common enough, to thrive among the mortal realm would be sent there. Those whom did not, would be kept alongside of him so that they might thrive. As such, being formed to unique, or to meet to thrive in the mortal realm, was the more pleasing of the two realities.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

This would be one of the few things that brought a sense of life into his existence. He, who had been around prior to the appearance of mortal life. He who had - with the aid of his sibling and his beloved mother - created the very world in which mortal lifeforms spent their time.

Oh, how he sorrowed over the state of the green sphere. He missed it's original state of beauty. The family trio had unified their prowess to create a private paradise, in which they could endlessly bask in the warmth of light. A place that, in that time, could not know fear or anguish. There was no darkness. All around, the land was vibrant green, with rare places of brown, or white.

The oceans had been vast, and the most beautiful shade of blue that one could ever hope to see. The plant life had only known to grow until content with its size. Their creations, like those who made them, had not known mortality. Eating, or drinking, it had only been for physical and emotional pleasure. He could still recall the bittersweet taste of the soft, yellow fruit that had grown in abundance. A fruit that now, was never to be found on the green sphere, for it could not survive in a place of mortality.

A fruit that he could never enjoy again, because he had lost those ancient friends whom had been formed from the very essence of the celestial plain. Those original creations of false life were long gone now. Victims of the plague of shadows that the Dark God had lain upon the world. A curse, that now, prevented genuine immortals from being born upon the terrain of the green sphere. Yes, there were beings who had adapted in order to thrive in a false sense of divinity. The Fae, whom served his sister with such outstanding loyalty, could live forever under fixed circumstances.

While within a spectral void in which time could not exist, they were free to thrive for all eternity, so long as they remained in high spirits. Yet, death was always a possibility - and it was always there, waiting for a chance to claim the ever unwilling spirits of the mortal. Nothing that was born within the realm of mortality, could genuinely exist forever. Sickness, homicide, unexpected accidents - there was always a means of ending life. He knew it. All who lived upon the green sphere were painfully aware of this cruel truth. Many had perished while trying to seek out a means of escaping the clutches of Død, won all knew to fear. Such a pointless task.

The only good to come from the Plague of Shadows, was the assurance that creation was free to continue for all of eternity. They could never run out of the material in which they created their marvelous creatures, because they had long since found a means of recycling all that was put to use. His particular means of creation had changed drastically over his time of consciousness. Of course, this was a result of necessity, not from mere whims of desire. No longer did he combine the material of the celestial realm with the fluid that endlessly flowed through his body. The silvery blood of he, a god, held so many uses. Never could he run out of it, and he had indeed tested that theory to determine whether or not it was fact.

Blood was his means of creation. Something that he could, and would, never change. Now inhabiting a dimension in which he could call his own, despite the fact that there were others present within it, he had developed a specialized means of creation. In the center most area of his temple, there thrived a pool of soft pink oils. The dense fluid was so thick, and so unique, that one could dive into it then emerge completely dry. It was through this pool, that he could birth thousands of new animals. From the blood of a pre-existing species, he could grow thousands of new individuals in soft, artificial wombs. From his blood and prowess, he could perform the delicate task of molding a new species. The pool was, if nothing else, the foundation for his fertility. He was a male, and by all accounts, lacked a means of physically birthing offspring.

His body lacked any means of behaving like that of a natural female - something that he genuinely envied his mother, and his sister for. As such, the pool had become a vital means of his, asexual reproduction, as he would call it. A few drops of his silver blood, when combined with the waters of the pool, would form a soft bundle of tissue. Tissue that, without his instruction, would be worthless. This bundle, deep red, and as little more than a small ball, would sink to the bottom of the pool. From there, any empty sack that could act as a womb would gladly accept it. He would then use his own influence to control it's growth and development. The growth of every new cell, the development of every nerve and bone - all would occur as a result of his will alone.

This period would determine everything about the future development of any new individual members of this unique species. The amount of time taken to grow within a natural womb, how early offspring could be born without risk of immediate death, coloration, and so on. His behavior while developing a new species would determine all of it. These artificial wombs, consisting of living pouches containing a darker pink fluid, which was fed into them by a single tube - or umbilical cord as he preferred to call them - were his means or reproduction. The false uteruses had each been created from his flesh and blood. Such was how he was able to recreate a female state.

The pink fluid held many purposes, but each revolved around allowing a fetus to grow and thrive. When these fetus' were ready to greet the realm outside of their artificial mother organs, the wombs would spit them out. The uteruses would tear as an X, and expel all that was housed inside of them. The pink fluid will have been cut off only minutes prior, preventing any excess waste. The body, defenseless and writhing, would be pushed out. Often times, into his waiting hands. Someone would always be present to take hold of the newborn, and to care for it as it grew.

He would tend to these helpless newborns, and watch over them as they grew into their adult stage. From there, he would decide whether or not to make his new species a gift to the mortal world, or hide them safely within his vast sanctuary for all of time. Death was not unavoidable for these precious creations, for they had been formed with the intention of living in a realm where predator and prey live and die while seeking to ensure the survival of their own species.

Many meet their fate at his hand, and from their blood, he would go on to produce hundreds, if not thousands, of new members of that breed. In a sense of the world, his cruelty came in the form of sending his offspring into the mortal realm. Such would be where they learned of terror, starvation, sorrow, and every other state of being that would otherwise be left unknown while in the Hidden Realm.

Such was the way. Those deemed fit enough, and common enough, to thrive among the mortal realm would be sent there. Those whom did not, would be kept alongside of him so that they might thrive. As such, being formed to unique, or to meet to thrive in the mortal realm, was the more pleasing of the two realities.