Gods in human flesh. His features were balanced and symmetrical, hooded eyes concealing the mess of silvery blue. Akiva looked at his ashy brown hair as it was slightly disheveled, but the intention of it being cut in a neat line was easy to infer...
Phastos drowned under blankets of deep purplish blues. The lavender saturation was dialed up beyond mortal comprehension, pressing the hue into something deeper than flesh and bone. Fabric wove through muscle fibers, forcing it's way through the anatomy of human encapsulation as if it were trying to bury deep into it's core. It wanted to put as much space as possible between itself and the very thing described.
Up above, stars pierced a blanket of black. Down below, the atmosphere of planet Earth churned into rock and water, wind and fire. Clouds bursts and cried underneath the heavens, showering the city in violent delights and a feverish heat.
The Eternal wrapped a charcoal robe around himself, hands finding one another as he rubbed at the tension in his wrists.
Stripped from all layers, the root of Phastos was akin to the inventor.
He worked in equal parts with his mind as he did his hands, and though fatigue and decay did not contribute to the collapse of his body the way it would to mortals after thousands of years, the strain was...insufferable.
His knuckles were next, thumb and pointer finger pressing into each one as he counted them along his hand. Slippered feet guided him to the window of the small apartment, feeling the shimmers of gold that beckoned out to cosmic energy.
