I hungered, and my appetite rent great tears across the surface of the world. Where my maw ran unchecked, huge swathes of land were scooped away, leaving trenches and basins. The desperation of the torn planet sought to fill the void with lakes and streams and rivers and
seas, a reaction of tears to the loss it felt. Around the landmasses would these oceans swell, reminders of what had been taken.
I was neither sated nor exhausted, and there was yet more pain I could inflict upon this land, more still that I could take. I became at the mightiest of the volcanoes my sister had spawned and with an in-drawn breath I devoured the heat and light of it, rendering it a grey peak of silent stone. Then into the heart and the summit of it I bit and sucked, drawing the
everything from within it.
The mountain cried too, but not water. Gushing forth from a
wellspring of lack came thick rivulets of viscous black
absence. It mocked the laws of rivers, not conjoining into a river from many trickles but splitting from a single trickle into brooks, then streams, then "tributaries" and finally into hundreds of mighty black rivers surrounding the base of the mountain and the lands about until at last they flowed into the sea.
At the sea the lack diminished and diluted, twisting the bay at the mouth of each river but eventually disappearing amidst the sea. On land and on the mountain was its effect the most pronounced.
At the heart of the wrong rivers, where the absence flowed in a single trickle from the wellspring of lack, all things were negated. Life, law, light, sense, magic, purpose, hope and desire, even hunger, were devoured equally with but a drop of that pure spite. With each splitting of the trickle however, with each new brook formed, the nature of the absence split. One stream would end all aspects of life, but leave the laws of physics untouched. One stream would cancel out magic and hope both, but leave hunger unsated. By the time the many hundreds of rivers were reached, each torrent of lack would cancel out only a single facet of creation, and the banks of that river would be twisted accordingly.
The water from these rivers and streams could be captured too, and laved with, and drunk, and retain all the potency it had at that point along the chain. For many, this would mean death or deprivation - but one of the great black rivers devours death too. A shame it looks the same as all the others.
May it forever sully the beauty of creation. So let it be!
[Edit: Damn it, I just wrote all that and you go and make seas.
]
[Edit 2: Let's just assume I add these oceans on to yours.
]