In the last few cycles since attempting to make contact with the creature in the Pit, Anubis had been dormant. Quietly riffling through the pages of his tome and plotting what he would do next with the creature. He was not giving up, but he was still refusing to put himself at risk. Going straight in there to inspect it was a death wish. He needed to be clever. And clever was something he thought he did pretty well.

The bat familiar had taken a good amount of time to properly calm down and return to him, but it didn't do so happily. Only after apologies, food, and rest was Anubis able to get it back on his side. Since then it had served as a glorified servant for him, fetching materials, food, and wood for lights as needed, and very occasionally a new red mouse for Aati; in exchange, it received Anubis's protection and, of course, its intelligence. And a name - Wings, he called it. Very...original, but it served its purpose.

He was preparing, now, to put his plan into action. Sitting outside the prison next to a half-dead tree, he pressed a paw onto the dry bark to do the first thing - create a carrying device. A nice capped mushroom would do the trick. But instead of catching onto the materials he focused on, the spores instead started crawling up his leg, teeny mushrooms sprouting from fur and flesh. With a low growl, he quickly shook them off. What a great start.

He took a few minutes to scrape away the last of the fungus that had embedded into his front legs, carefully clawing out the roots so they didn't stick around and glanced upon at the sound of a voice. He frowned. He didn't need anyone bothering him right now, not when he was in the middle of planning and getting prepared for something this dangerous.

He didn't respond at first, but it was obvious he'd heard, from the head tilt up, the pause, and the momentary locked eyes. He turned back to the decaying tree and pressed a paw against it again, forcing more fungus to rise to the surface. At least this time it didn't go crawling up his leg, but the mushrooms that sprouted were pathetically small. They were the right shape at least, but it wasn't at all what he wanted.

Anubis snarled, momentary frustration breaking the cool exterior as he swiped at the mushrooms to clear them out from the bark, throwing a glare at the approaching deer, as if it was their fault for his misfortune. "What do you want?"

He stared at the weird deer-thing for a while, taking in the sight of it, the...mutations? Goodness, there were so many. He's seen normal deer before, and cave deer, but none of them had those sparkling wings, the strange clawed front-legs, and the patterning didn't look natural. At least, not from what he could tell. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Aran for a moment longer, before turning back to his tree.

Perhaps he should question him. Ask about it. He would, eventually.

His paw placed upon the dead tree at last delivered what he had been attempting. A single mushroom - large, capped, with plenty of space undeneath. He grunted his approval as he very carefully sheared it at the base, and turned it upside down to begin cleaning out beneath the cap, cutting the stem and carving out some of the frills.

"You are not in my way," he murmured as he worked. "Is there something you were looking for, this deep into ruins?" His ears twitched as he glanced out a Cassiopeia - utterly a ruin, overgrown, forgotten.

He spent some time cleaning out the inside of the mushroom, and once it was a sufficient bowl shape, he set it down and focused. He nodded to the deer with a small hum, gave him an uninterested, "I live here." and then turned back to his magic.

So, his intention had been to produce the dust right into the bowl - he gripped the edges of the mushroom with his paws and the spell released. But maybe he was distracted by the audience, or not focusing hard enough, or just the magic decided to fuck with him. Instead of the spores going down, they puffed right in his face, right as he inhaled.

Anubis reared back with a startled yelp and sneezed, trying to eject the spores before they did anything. Too late, though, drowsiness was nipping at the edges of his mind. He shook his head, trying to clear it, gritting his teeth in annoyance and embarrassment. "Fucking. Magic," he spat.

His head was spinning a little bit from the drowsiness, but then an odd sensation ran through him and some of that drowsiness receeded. Not by much, but it was significant enough for him to notice. He paused, looking up at the barasingha with renewed interest. "Did you just do something?"

He looked between the mushroom "basket" and the deer a couple of times, thinking and considering. He didn't really share his research projects with anyone, but maybe for this one it might be different. If things went sideways - and he was fucking sure not everything would go to plan - then it might help to have some backup.

The jackal was silent, and then suddenly sat up straight. "You know what? Sure. As long as you're not afraid of big monsters." A wry grin split his face as he braced his paws against the mushroom again. He focused magic again, gritting his teeth, but no fungus appeared. At least this time, the cloud didn't backfire.

He sighed and looked back up. "I'm trying to fill this with spores that induce drowsiness. I need a lot - preferably to pack this mushroom full. It needs to take a very large creature down quickly."