That Titan was Restless

Each finger was a log. Bronzish. No, more of a tarnished and patina copper. A silken layer of undulating fungus waved a blurry skin across the scalp of each digit. And the nail... oh, that nail! The nails were mirrors, perfect in clarity except for a brackish vignette that perfectly framed your face, given the hand was laying palm-to-the-ground, which it rarely was since that Titan was restless.