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One may assume, from first contact, that Diath is a dim or shy egg. She takes great care with her words, chooses them with slow deliberation, and so can appear to be lost within conversation, overly quiet and a step behind. But though it tends to flinch back from thoughts and actions sharp or sudden, fails to be quick with in word and wit, this doesn't stop Diath from being a thoughtful and social egg.

Her being, at this point, is social. Not in the way of constant talking, but in constant presence. Diath is an egg that yearns for company, that would wither to dust if left alone, and this is apparent in the way it reaches out with emotion and sense of mind to all who approach. Truly her quiet nature is a reflection of a desire to communicate clearly and pleasantly, to avoid damaging the cohesiveness, the well-being of the whole. Though not a leader or a tender- it bristles at the thought of being gold and bronze, the ranks she associates with such things- Diath feels quite strongly that one should prevent causing hurt and upset within the group and will behave as such, even if it means holding negative emotions inside and wilting under the weight of it's own fears.

Because while not shy or dim, Diath is fearful. The recent quake has shone a spotlight on the nervous edge of her demeanor, tendency to dart away and hover a safe distance rather than confront matters head-on. This alone would have been enough to leave it's gut to twist when comparing to other, braver, eggs in the clutch, but with the loss of siblings both in and after the quake... A faint worry about what she had not known was death has been sharpened to a cutting blade resting above it's heart. Anxiety and fear of loss have grown from subtle shades against her mind to fixtures that will last for turns, if not a lifetime.

It makes, in this time of eggness, for an open and welcoming egg, quiet but affectionate, with the barest undercurrent of desperate worry.

Heavy, sturdy, like the smallest boulder this egg sits among the Sands, rests at just enough an angle for an overhang. It's roundedness, it's smoothness, like a riverstone in the flow of the path around it's clutch. It does not move but for the will of it's mother, is unmarred by sand, claw, fellow egg. Though, since the earthquake a large patch of thin cracks has marred it's side. Likely the result of a falling stone or a misplaced limb by Gwillanth. Despite this, no harm seems to have been done to the life inside, it sits just as calmly as it ever has, with only the barest movements. Still, one will wish to be careful, as the cracks form a large weak spot and location for grime to accumulate.

In color, it is a dark grey-black, deepening as it goes down down down the egg, flecked with speckles of grey until even that is lost in the darkness. But there, brightness, color comes to it, haphazard streaks of green, of red, of yellow decorate the lower half. Clustered together, spread apart, like lights dancing in the pitch dark ocean. Stare long enough and one could swear to see them moving...