Working Name

Welcome to Working Name, a quaint telluric ball of water and rock. Pale apparitions haunt above a mineral sea and a sky scattered blue, flaking storms teasing the water's skin and dancing their way over a great plate of land. Water washes away oxidation and works its way into cisterns and streams, a jittering stillness over bare mountainsides and muted rock formations. The sun loops between sedated caps of ice, flaring a planet-side with an orange warmth before tapering off into an echo from behind. Up above the grey-brown teeth and salted waves something etches itself into the horizon. It's a meteor! It's a comet! It's-   Isatar! Eight spindles of hardened flesh dive into the ocean, and an abdominal pyre follows suit. In a matter of days if not hours, squirming, jiving life works its way onto the Earth and about the ocean. Trees did sprout and like so the creatures to feast on them. Shells abuzz, leafy webs and strange monkeys with pelts of bone, all practically crawling out of the ground. All the while, Isatar lurks in the lowest stratification, seeding the Earth with rejoice and celebration.   Soon, Isatar plots of OXI: a new kind of living. With sentience to rival his, he utters man unto Working Name, and they take the reigns of the world with such an adamance of Isatar's dreams. Man prospers for millenia, building and achieving and eating. They would fable their past and their future just as their father-- writing of the harvest, dancing for the souls of the past. Crying of the sky's pale, dotted ouroboros which limps closer everyday...