Gold Ilyscaeth and Bronze Xermiltoth's Eggs

Kissed by the Wild Egg
This shell perfects oval form, round at the bottom and thinning towards the top in unparalleled symmetry. It's aesthetic to a fault, painted a glossy white so pure that it refracts sunlight, leaves behind the impression of a thousand glittering diamonds beneath a shell so very close to flawless that its a wonder this egg should ever — eventually — hatch at all. It's striations of rich brown made near the highest point, branching in either direction from a halo of filigree arrows in gold that marr its beauty, strikingly bold in its interruption of what might have otherwise been a perfect specimen.

Fool Moon Egg
It's an egg. It's round. It's vaguely colorful in a, if you squint your eyes slightly, that grey splotch almost looks like it could be brownish kind of way. In fact, if you tip your head to the side it kind of looks like a canine, nose pointed towards a white orb hanging in a jet black sky. Tilt it further and close one eye, and that singular blob separates into three, three wolves howling at a singular moon. But mostly it just looks like an egg. What can you do.

The Smoke That Rose Egg
There's an oddness about this ovoid, something reminiscent of a creature alive in the branching, elongated bumps extending from what you think is the top of this egg. It's hard to tell, given this particular specimen looks as though it was laid sideways and nobody bothered to correct it. Still, it's a contrast of vibrancy to offset its Fool Moon counterpart, with filigree patterns wrought in gold that look as if somebody spent hours applying gold-leaf to outline a shape, to make crisp lines. Autumn reds and harvest orange curl in leave-shaped patterns around yellow-browns, filling in the patterns lined by gold. If you look close enough, it almost looks like a rabbit, but then…art has always been a study in perception.

Haloed in Light Egg
This egg is an odd one, both in shape and shade. More round than oblong, its mid-sized bulk stands out for the distinctly globular shape, but also the vibrant colors that overtake a shell with an inky base. Near-white grey powders the rounded apex of the shell in a somewhat lopsided circle, speckled heavily with darker tones here and there. The ash and iron form little blobs and spots; very egg-y, certainly, with their irregularity in size and shape. There seems to be no set pattern, no underlying message in the haphazard splash of shadows, but they do add depth to an otherwise flat expanse of brilliant silver. The silver fades off to a darker soot a third down the shell, but abruptly ignites once more a little further — into hazy, glorious gold. The halo takes up the better part of the rest of the shell, a semi-translucent haze of wheat over what looks to be mottles of abyssal indigo and navy. The halo fades through to darker amber around its outer edges, a gradual shift that dims into the deeper shades of the base of the egg.

Egg of the Eternal Dance
This egg exists in perfect chatoyance, neither black nor white nor grey at any one time, no matter how the light might shift and splay against the curve of its shell. Hard, polished, cold, it appears for all the world to be the physical manifestation of a black cat's-eye gem, a white fracture running the ovoid's length from apex to base. Silver limns this line, its purity dulling somewhat as it draws towards darkness, grey muddling with faded blues and jaded greens, offering some small hope for neutrality before the black swallows it whole. No matter how it might move, or how one might move around it, these markings stay the same - light beaming from its center, darkness waiting at its edge - as though this effect is integral to the philosophy of this egg's very existence.

Favor the Dark Egg
There is a sorrow emanating from this egg, an ovoid dripped in matte black, cut from swaths of silver moonlight that fracture and bleed in tiny, errant spiderweb cracks along every inch of its shell. It's beautiful, but there's something tragic about it, something that makes it feel perversely as though you've witnessed something you shouldn't have seen.

The Beast That Calls the Egg
Compared to some of its siblings, this egg is a riot of color, a bright wash of purple against the pale backdrop of the sands. It is not one shade of purple however, but many, flowing betwixt and between themselves in charming iridescence. It's a soft periwinkle at its palest, the downy color flanked by a much more ebullient shade of fuchsia before fading from violet to bruised royalty to the crushed-velvet depths of the night sky. Nebulous refractions keep this from being a perfect gradient from one color to the next, frosty blues and spatters of gold and white forming star-patterns the longer one stops to consider the egg's shell. Some are familiar, some are as alien as the dragon it might one day produce, constellations standing out as golden diamonds in a field of scattered frost. It's only when one approaches the egg from its far side that a sense of dread sets in, that one realizes that perhaps this egg is not all it seems: two red orbs stare out from the egg's shadowiest depths, appearing for all the world to be eyes that seem to track no matter what angle they're viewed from. Limned with half-sickles of gold, they appear to lend the egg a distinctly unfriendly edge, but who knows… Things are not always what they appear.

Prize-Winning Produce Egg
Is this the biggest melon anybody 'round these parts has ever seen, or what. Compared to all the others, it's got some good size to it, doesn't it? Looks a lot more like a melon than anything else on these here sands, too. Handsomely green, it waits for perfect ripeness as patiently as any fruit. Dark green seems to take up the bulk of the shell, shading to near-black in spots, while lovely, faint vertical stripes of emerald wash in here and there. Splotches of sun-kissed gold vie for space in the dark green landscape; here, the size of a fist, a wherry egg, a half-mark, there mere freckles, scattered in a diffuse pattern near the bottom of its curve. …it's an egg, you say? Not a maybe slightly strangely shaped melon, waiting for somebody to pull it into the nearest gather as an attraction? Well. That changes things.

Light of the Mother Moon Egg
Midnight blue envelopes this egg in its velvet embrace, stygian depths rich and vibrant against the pale glitter and russet glimmer of the sands. Silver curls and twines, argent ribbons wrapping protectively around the curving edges of the egg, seeming to cradle the dark disk within their loving embrace. No matter from which direction this egg is viewed, the pearlescent lustre is only a flash at the edges of the darkness, a hint, perhaps, of the shining personality which lies beyond the dark side of the egg - always glimpsed, but almost never truly seen.

Balance of the Divine Egg
Curving like horns, silver skims along the base of an otherwise papyrus-hued egg, encircling the bulbous base in its crescent embrace. Marching upwards from the argent cradle, deeply etched figures leap and gesture, their cadanced dance partnering them with icons both mundane and magical. Through it all winds skeins of blue and gold, twining sinuously through the tale of mystery and wonder etched indelibly into the stained-parchment shell, overshadowed by the outstretched wings of the wise-eyed ibis that nests upon the apex of the egg.

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