Monica
*On one of the upper-most branches of Gaia, slowly and steadily, an egg not too different from that of a bird seemed to have grown. Growing from a bed of feathers that seems to have taken a form similar to a nest it lies in wait. . .*

*Before suddenly, there's one crack in the surface, then another, and with a gust of wind upwards the shell seems to break away, revealing the goddess inside! And... Subsequently, blowing that nest of feathers up into her face, and causing her to sneeze. Quite a few times.*

*After her sneezing fit concludes, she gives herself a moment to recover before slowly rising to her feet and taking in the beauty of Gaia and the realm that she has found herself in. Dusting lost feathers off of her outfit she whistles lowly, impressed.*

"*Wow.*" *She murmurs to herself, breathless. She turns her gaze downwards- gazing at all of the branches that lie below and all of the other fruits, unnamed and not yet born. Then a smile creeps up onto her lips, laughing as she throws her hands up in the air.*

"This is GREAT!"
Tracy
A brisk wind bellows against one of the branches stemming upon the great towering oak of Gaia, feint and tepid whispers carried with the breeze. Dark mists begin to swirl as a murders of crows swoop around the darkness, the avians blanketing the shadow like some foul hurricane of carrion-feeders.

Around and around they fly, squawks and croaks of heraldry emitting from their beaks. "*Witness! Witness!*" They cry out in mimicry of one another, their calls reverberating and echoing softly down onto the branches below.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, the host of crows flap their black wings, soaring off high into the skys in unison. And all that remains is an *Eye* - floating as though it existed in a sea of nothingness, large and ominous as it hung in the sky like some crooked blotch on a serene canvas. Obscure, esoteric glyphs flickered and flashed as the eye blinked - runes and scrawlings of ineligible, warped tongues, a language yet unseen and unheard.

And then it warps once more, the mists transcending and swirling yet again. And out from that opaque blackness, that stretch of nothing, Vassek would loom tall.

His first breath did not come easy - a sharp, pained motion that he did not embrace with joy or content. Those pallid, wary eyes of his gaze down at his shaking fingertips.

"*Cogito, ergo sum.*" The Witness murmurs out in a voice that was paper-thin, as soft and unassuming as spiders silk as he marvels horribly at his own skin.

"I think, therefore **I am**."
Karen
*On the edge of a branch, nested tightly among the canopy, one of the godfruits approaches ripeness. As it nears its peak, however, it seems to shrivel up on itself, warping and blackening as though burning from within. As the outer skin begins to flake away into dust, a formless, lightless, smokeless black fire pours out of it from all directions, slowly coalescing into sharp-nailed hands, then arms, then a torso and head with flowing black hair, puffing into smoke at the ends. It hesitates on its lower half for a moment, flickering between bipedal and serpentine, ultimately deciding on the more human legs. The figure holds out an arm to touch the flame, molding it into a simple black tunic and sliding it onto its body. Finally, it reaches up to its face, carving out the hollows where the last of the flame becomes its eyes, continuing to flicker and burn even as it takes its first blink, followed shortly by its first entirely superfluous breath. As it exhales, its name-* "Vanos" *-escapes its mouth a moment before it even recognizes the word as such. It cannot help but wonder how it knows such a thing, but that query pales beyond the broader questions of its own existence.*