The Commemoration of Egg

Once upon a time, in its earliest gestation, this egg was probably just black. The multicolored bursts on it appear to have been added on more than anything else, rising slightly above the surface with a bumpy, oil-painty sort of texture. The ridges are a swath of bright, eye-catching colors: cerulean and peacock, magenta, an eye-popping green and even some white in swoops and curves and shapes that even look like little flowers. It's slightly wider on the top, with an inward ridge near its center, and seems to lie more effectively on its side the long way than with its point on the top even with that being counterintuitive to the up-down of the ornate patterning.


A chaos of colors and glistening hues envelops this egg, but not in a single layer. Instead of a neatly wrapped package, this egg's shell seems to be made up of many other wrappings, crumpled, torn and discarded. Colors clash against each other in garish combinations of red, orange, brown, green, purple, yellow, and black. Borders are frayed in some places and sharply divided in others as the colors meet in indistinguishable patterns. It hurts the eyes and yet seems oddly satisfying. Or it'll give you a tummy ache. Take your pick.


Stretched and strained over an eerie agitation of blazing greens and ghostly shadows are vivid threads of improbable light. Maybe not so much light, though, as a pearlescent absence of the sickly palette beneath, bright against its darkness. The pale filaments swarm together, coiling into a tangle of knots, before crawling their way across the surface of the egg, twisting into the next swarm with a glow of spectral affliction threatening to taint that perfect white.

Firelight Egg

Black, blacker, blackest… this egg is striking both in simplicity and contrast. Most of the smooth shell is a depthless shade of pure black, except for where it’s not. Stark, clear-cut lines carve into that darkness, lit from beneath with hues of yellow and orange like the flickering of flame. Shapes take form, some dulled as though just cut from the surface to allow minimal light through, while others provide clear glimpses within. All come together in a creative illusion of… something. Is that an eye, perhaps? Or a grinning mouth of some fantastical beast?

Favored Familiar Egg

What is it with some of the eggs and being so dark? This egg is shrouded in blackness too and from a distance, looks wholly unbroken. Closer inspection will show just a minute variation in the shade — some lighting brings forth a deep, rich brown color and from another angle, blue-black highlights dance across the smooth surface of the shell. Or is it smooth? Because it certainly looks like this egg is made of fur — soft, velvety and plush fur, all coiled in on itself. It could be a trick of the eye too, but maybe, just maybe, there’s the teeniest sliver of yellow-green tucked away in there, as though it's watching you with an indifferent air.

Last-Second Tiger Costume Egg

There is an overarching thematic note to this egg’s mis-matched shell, at least: stripes. Black stripes, haphazard in their placement, over patches of — white, mostly, intermittently intermingled with uneven shades of orange. In one quadrant, the color shifts to — interestingly near-metallic gold, over eye-searing pink as near to florescent as Pern can possibly come — in nature, at least. The quality of the stripes over-solids varies: here, professionally perfect; there, an amateur hand at finger-done face paint at best.

Amok! Amok Amok Amok Egg

Red. Black. Yellow so light as to be almost golden. Three shades, coexisting in knotted swirls across the apex of this rotund egg. A flash of green beside the red, a whisper of crimson alongside the black, pink and purple partnered with the yellow provide the only highlights on this shell before it slips into a broodingly dark brown. Like leather, only more sinister, the brown is criss-crossed with ragged lines that are marked with what could be mistaken for stitches holding pieces of the shell together, if it wasn't impossible to have such things on an egg. And if that weren't creepy enough, there's one spot that's… well. Eggs can't have an eye, can they? So it can't be that. Surely not. No, no, no. It's just a splodge that looks like it's watching you. Watching it. Watching you. You'd best look away. Do it now.

Not Your Typical Jack-O-Egg

The rounded bottom of this squat egg is purple, while the blunt apex is a creamy off-white, with the two colours meeting somewhere in the middle in an organic clash that splits this egg into uneven halves. It's not the bold colours that are this egg's most striking feature though - it's the fact that it looks like it has a face. A rough-hewn, carved face, with eyes like isosceles triangles, a snub attempt at an equilateral nose, and a gruesome grimace of a mouth filled with uneven teeth. Said features are brighter than the rest of the egg, as if lit from within by candlelight's warm glow. A dark line hangs like limp string from between what would be this egg's ears, if it did indeed have a face… perhaps a convenient handle for toting it around.