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Cuthlet

The wave the worm brought forth from its rising was enough to wash over the Mother... much to Her displeasure. The water was cold, and the salt stung Her sensitive carapace! But this new development was interesting enough that She merely shook off the water before looking over these new... things. Hm, perhaps they were like Her? Except of a different Hive... Mothers to their children. She hoped that their hives could do without war... She hadn't even given birth to Her children yet, let alone established a true Hive for them.

"Name?" the Mother asked, confused by the concept. What was a name? Were not Mothers Mothers, and their children children? All a part of the Hive, working together as cogs in a machine... what use were names in such a wondrous arrangement? Perhaps Her title would be enough to sate these odd Hive Masters?

"I am The Mother. It is a pleasure to meet you, The Davos and The Itja-Rek," She replied, reclining Her head in respect. If they were Mothers, they deserved the respect given to those that give life into this harsh world. "And it is amazing to think that this water could give rise to givers of life when it seems to be nothing but fury and pain. I hope you are not offended by my altering of your Hive," She went on, looking down at the island beneath them. "But I did not think my Children could live in such a liquid."

The Masked deity fled from the gathering of these other beings, traversing the breath of the sky faster than a clap of thunder.  It had been startled, taken by surprise and frightened.  Coming upon the strangely shaped beings, it's curiosity had been piqued and it had taken to examining their forms and features, admiring their symmetry and eccentricities.  But then there was the lone hand that was soon replaced by another of the strange creatures.  Was this where they came from, did they sprout from those strange sacks as disembodied digits, rapidly growing to reach the mature state?

The ethereal cloud had no idea and did not think long on such things, for a more ominous thought soon broached its mind.  Not long after the young purple haired one had appeared, the ground around the gathering of creatures had shot up like jagged interlocking spears, thrusting violently into the sky.  This is what had sent the newborn deity fleeing, for in the violence of the act it saw a reflection of what it had done in tearing the earth from its bosom to hang the Waltzing Mountains in the sky.  This disturbed the deity, for it suggested that something, perhaps even those anthropoid beings, had power that rivaled and mirrored its own.  

When it had come upon the group, the masked one had merely assumed they were natural residents and caretakers of that garden, left to tend to the place after its original creator had passed.  But could it be that they had created those hills covered with the spring blossoms, and that they had torn the earth skyward?  Could they be more than just tenants of this place, but its creators?  Could they predate even the masked one's existence?  And one had been birthed from that tree as he had been present, could more yet be coming?

These thoughts greatly disturbed the newborn deity as it streamed through the air back to the Waltzing Mountains, who prior to this had assumed it was the only such being in this world.  Suddenly though its thoughts were cut short, as suddenly a massive rumbling simultaneously split both the sky and the earth below.  Before the God's eyes the grounds of mishway began to sink below it, and a blue liquid violently burst forth from the sinking land.  A mere moment later, the skies through which the masked God travelled filled with dark grey clouds that seemed to have spontaneously sprouted into existence.  Flying through one such cloud, the God found that it exited the other side moist, and realized that these clouds were laden with the same liquid.  Slowly at first, but rapidly increasing in rate, droplets of the liquid, which the deity then knew was called water, began to fall from the clouds towards the earth below. 

A frightening loud *CRACK* shot through the skies and before the eyes of the God a white hot discharge of pure energy shot through the clouds, arcing towards the earth below.  Lightning, realized the Deity, but before the full implications of that thought could be inferred another similar burst arced through the air not 10 feet from the ethereal deity.  A wave of heat and electricity flowed over and through the God's form, and it felt pain.  It did not like pain.

The bolts of energy started to come more and more rapidly, until the darkness within and below the clouds was constantly lit by their discharge.  The God darted between the strikes, attempting to avoid being struck directly or approaching to closely as it was drenched in the torrential downpour that had obscured even the earth below.  Several close calls left a singed, burned feeling in the depths of the newborn Deities being, and as it approached the outmost sentinel of the mountains, still divinely carrying through the steps of its dance as the world around it raged in fury, a shot of lightning finally struck the God directly.

Pain, unlike any felt before.  A mix of both heat and energy forcing itself through its form,  the words searing, scorching, burning, and excruciating flashing through the ethereal cloud’s mind to describe the sensations that coursed through its body.  The God's mind literally went blank for a moment and its form began to fall to the earth below.  However, its momentum carried it forward and it by some stroke of divine luck the Masked God crashed into the dry embrace and safety of a shallow cave near the floating crags bottom.  Sitting there, as the lightning's light illuminated the cave in brief flashes, the God thought one word Storm and then darkness enveloped its consciousness.