Kerberos raised a paw to paw at his slobbered on muzzle, his left head continuing to hold the conversation while the right head tried to stop his paw from cleaning off the slobber with aggressive nosing, much to the giggle-fit of the central head. "Me too!" The big dog barked eagerly, "I bet if we teamed up, we could catch a whole herd!"

"But we shouldn't--" the central head protested, raising his nose up. "Oh." The thought caught up to the other head. "... Yeah, killing a whole herd would mean less deer in the future." This was important; you had to be careful when you were a giant kaiju not to decimate an entire species from a part of the cave.

"Magic can do anything!" His last head woofed belatedly; though each of his heads ran off of one singular identity, it was a lot easier to keep track of separate trains of thought through each of his brainmeats. Not that any gembound had really studied Kerberos's mind formation in any great detail; most folks either assumed he was three personalities or accepted his single self that he identified with. "My mom has fungi magic, a lot of the Bonebound has wind magic, and my magic does lots of stuff. It can do warm, and glowy, or push stuff, or big lasers." He took a big breath, other heads taking over to push in words when needed. "Wanna see?"

He was so excited to show Orthoclase-Alpha exactly what he could do, but his gem was still a bit fried from the transference spell. He shook his paw lightly, and instead, three big grins focused on Alpha from the safe distance between them.

"Some of it's reeeaaaally cool," he insisted with a playful whine.

At first Orthoclase-Alpha rejected the offer, but with just a touch of insisting, the cerberos had won them over. Tail thumping on the ground, he took a deep breath through each of his mouths, feeling the air rush deep into his lungs.

It was a destructive, dangerous spell; one that had caused a lot of heartache. But that didn't mean it couldn't be tamed, just like his own wild heart. He felt his magic burn in his chest, and he raised his noses toward the sky, and felt the energy build and build until it was all he could do to hold it back as he picked out his target:

A stalagmite that hung high above and several meters away from them (because, when he did hit it, he was quite concerned it might come crashing down on to either kaiju), and focused on that terminus. "Three," one head began, and the other heads echoed back, "Two," until finally all three howled in unison, "Three!"

From his center maw came the burst of blinding light from the beam of radiation, blasting off and searing the ceiling Canis. Harmless, and he had held back an extra little bit, just to be safe. His jaws clamped together, biting down on the cast, and he whipped his heads back to Alpha, tail thumping in a meaty slap on the floor.

"See!" He woofed. "What did you think?" "Cool, huh?"

Does it kill, was the question. Did the intense, focused magic have the power to cleave stone from flesh, searing soul from body. The dog's haunches settled down on the bone-swept floor, tail falling still as heads tilted down. Five eyes met four, though they seemed to focus past Alpha.

The first conclusion Kerberos drew was that no; the magic itself did not kill. By itself, the magic pushed and pulled, warmed and cooled, nothing more than nature leveling out to equilibrium (that word was much too big for the guardian dog to know, but the concept was something he understood on an instinctual level-- as an energy user.) The magic of radiation would diffuse itself on its own. "No," Kerberos woofed, the central voice soft.

It was he who aimed the magic. He, who focused the laser. He, who killed.

Kerberos had a feeling that Orthoclase-Alpha would need an explanation. A vague no did not explain enough. "It can be used to kill," he went on all each head slowly and methodically speaking in semi-alternating unison, "I have killed a gembound with that magic. But, it was not something I'm proud of. I was protecting my family-- I was..." Acting without listening, speaking, learning. "Killing out of instinct."

The dog exchanged glances between his heads, as though looking into his own eyes would help him make sense of the turmoil under his skin. "I've killed using my own teeth, too," his voice was quiet, ears laying back, the taste of feathers on his tongue. "My teeth do not do the killing. We make the choice to kill." Dry, rusted dust and metallic blood tangling as teeth tore wing from body. The face of a family member-- but not-- but it could have so easily been.

"What I mean is... There's lot of ways to kill," Kerberos whined, his left head nosing his cheek, and the other licking at his ear, as though he could somehow comfort himself, "And yes, I can kill-- but there's always a better solution." He could admit his sins to a stranger, but not to his own mother. A shiver ran down his spine. He didn't want to disappoint any of the Bonebound; they believed him to be good. He didn't like thinking about how he had betrayed them. A paw reached out to gently scoop a curved bone close, his still sore stone-pawpad clicking against the fragile, old surface. "Killing... Is a quick, permanent solution, a means to an end. If I could take back the lives I'd taken, I would. But... All I can do is be better."

At least the first time he had killed, there had been punishment. The second time, not a soul had noticed. That alone had trapped him, his leg caught in a metaphysical bear trap. Did he admit to it, and risk tearing his limb off; or ignore it, and let it keep festering? He knew the right answer deep down, but he still failed to execute it.

The bone's memory surged through the guardian of the gate, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he was lost to it. Death had come slowly to it: the creature it belonged to knew it was going to die. It's strength was fading, slowly, hunger having consumed it. But it was not afraid, instead, a sense of startling peace overwhelmed the dog. It had lived a life it was happy with; perhaps not a perfect one, but as it took its last breath, it had no regrets.

Kerberos stirred back from the vision, a weakness in his paws that threatened to make his limbs buckle from underneath him. It was some miracle that he remained sitting, blinking at Orthoclase-Alpha as the world came back into focus.

Protecting important things... Yes, his family. His family, that he was hiding things from now and chasing his guilty tail further and further down a dark hole that he couldn't begin to escape. He needed to have that conversation with Giggle... He didn't want to die guilty, and afraid, full of regrets. He wanted... He wanted to be happy, like the bone was.

The conversation had died, and he struggled for a moment getting words out of his throat again. "Yeah, but I wish I didn't," Kerberos woofed, left head tilting downward as it spoke. "You can't take back death. Dead things... Don't come back. Ever."

This was horribly dark. He didn't want to weigh down the stranger with this horrible conversation anymore. He could see just how uncomfortable Alpha was, and he-- he had just wanted to make a friend, and a playmate, and now he felt bad. Of course Orthoclase-Alpha didn't know what to say. What could you say to a stranger admitting to murdering other gembound?

Okay. Okay. Subject change. Think quickly, big guy. "... But! That was the past. I appreciate you listening, Orthoclase-Alpha. I know that was a lot..." Change the subject, come on big dog brains, talk about anything else.

"Hey," his one head woofed, the other two glancing toward it. "Did you like bones?" His tail gave a hopeful wag, as he pushed the good bone with the peace and ease in its marrow toward Alpha. "If you want, this bone here is a really good bone... You can keep it if you like. And if you ever need me, you can put the Bone at the entrance to the creepy tunnel," he pointed his nose toward Tunnel K. "I go there every day, so, I'll definitely see it. You and your friends live in the other Tunnel, right?"

... It was. He sure was doing his best.

Kerberos's trio of heads tilted, ears shifting back just a touch as the gift was rejected. Maybe it would be kind of a bother to carry around... Kerberos had two extra mouths, but despite Orthoclase-Alpha's six legs, none were built for holding things, and only one mouth to hold a bone meant dragging it about. "Okay," he woofed, gently placed his paw back over the bone. "I guess you could just put any old bone by the tunnel, really." The hellhound was having a hard time convincing himself that the refusal to take the bone didn't mean that Alpha was outright refusing the company. It definitely seemed like the kaiju had just missed the point, but the dog was still lowkey taking it a little personally.

He didn't have much time to mope about it, though, and he put on a brave front with his suggestion that any bone would do. Orthoclase-Alpha confirmed what he knew about the Sentinels, but then-... If they weren't friends, then..? "Oh. Family, then. You know, you can be friends with your family, too." Though he had known plenty of gembound struggle and clash with their family members; the Bonebound had plenty of black sheep.

"But," he started with an eager whine in his throat, tail thwapping behind him, "I'll be your friend. And now you know where to find me!" He rose to his feet, and pranced, pattering to the left and the right with the eagerness of a puppy waiting for someone to throw a stick. "How's that sound?!" Because that was how you made friends, by wrestling them, offering them food and bones, and by being as straightforward and as dense as your own thick skull.

(And the further they got away from the talk of murder, the better, right?)