out in the deep, I've seen something real
the mouth of the void that the waves conceal
Gaunt and barely alive, the Archon is a beast of shambling legs and rotting bones beneath the slick and grotesque flesh: porous and hairless with a mucus sheen atop the patchy grey and black… spatters of white as well. She, for all purposes of identification, is a being whose tendrils curl and flex on their own volition- whose barbed suckered reach and grasp… lift and tickle the grounds she moves across. Her maw opens, the split tendrils unveiling the great chitinous beak and the tapping it creates as it chitters and chatters in a mockery of laughter… radula on the near-white tongue visible as the Archon calls out across the whistling plateaus and desert: through the whole of Pangea.
“Come children, and any who crawl amidst my land. Name yourselves and let us be numbered here: for long have I slumbered since taking my crown’ but now, I am awakened once more.”
Those shoulders roll back and the squid-like Archon allows her barbell shaped irises to narrow into little more than slits amidst the teal speckled grey-green. Her half white face leering and a single tendril stretched from her shoulder, lengthy and long: grasping as she plucked a rock and allowed it to roll between the suction cups.
“The Archon, Yee tho rah (Yidhra)... calls you.”
