All he sees is darkness encroaching behind his eyelids, swarming, insidious.

He is at home here in the dark where he floats, and he waits. Around him grows a carapace; no, grew. It grew, encapsulating his body in a protective layer. There is no telling how long he has been here in this void - this womb.

He cannot move. At first there is a panic response as his heart fills with dread, igniting a scintilla of magick where his stone is rooted. As the pulse wanes, his eyes slowly droop and shut. He tries to reach out with all that he is, pushing beyond the physical barrier to call to the bacteria in the air.

Nothing.

The hibernation begins, and he slips in to darkness.

---

Cycles have passed by the time the shell appears again, seemingly unearthing itself. The carving standing erect at Canis' entrance looms over it, face frozen in a contortion of rage which was eerily fitting, considering what beast was locked inside.

A gasp of air pulses through the tunnel; dust scatters, but as it lands upon the faceted black surface of the carapace the lustre does not diminish. Something trembles inside; a single eye opens, and life ignites.

Magick. An incongruity. It erupts from inside and forces the creature's body aloft for only a second or two. The dust is driven down and away as if they are unfurling their wings and taking flight, effectively burning the shape of extended wings upon the wall adjacent.

The smell of old campfire, coals gone cold. The after-image produces an inverted halo against the wall while the small red-and-black shape crumples to the dirt, gasping stale air.

The feeling of solid earth against his chest was a surprise. The darkness behind the shattered carapace flowed around him, pooling in the center of whatever vestibule remained, and matted the hairs of his torso. He felt it on his cheek; tasted the minerality of it on his lips, and slowly opened his eyes.

Those two red eyes, glowing ominously, so vivid even without the use of his power. His sight is hazy at first. He does not know if it is the dust in the air that makes it difficult or the fact it has been many, many cycles since they've been of use to him. The darkness no longer crowds every inch of everything.

There are eyes staring back.

He places a palm against the soil and twitches when the too-soft pad touches upon a coarse little stone; it is a jarring sensation. He grits teeth he has forgotten about, hoists himself to his knees first, and then remembers - feet. A long tail to counter-balance. Extra limbs, no longer stripped of their muscle but naked of any feathering, help keep him upright. They spider between the floor and the wall.

All the while he stares at those eyes. A shock of green set in a wide, round face. It is an ugly face; the eyes droop in perpetual sadness and the meat hangs off its jowls. A few moments of breathing and staring transpire before he's gathered some of his wits, but none of his memories. He is reborn - at least in body. The rest is empty.

"Hhh.. Who? Whh.. Where..?" He drawls, lacking the proper intonation of a question. He is just as confused, just as tired.

"...Hi," The creature said; their voice was hoarse, as if that meagre offering had hurt them.

He recognizes the sound as a greeting somehow. It can't be a name, it is too short. It cannot be what this place is called. He feels as if he knows these things already - he knows this place. The dust might not be familiar dust in the moment, but the scowling toothy obelisk guarding the door, that he knows. Somehow. A previous life lending his hazy brain some clues.

The newly awakened creature turns from those bright eyes and stares up at that stone face. He reaches for it, stumbles, catches himself. Crawling is so much harder when everything is still asleep. He doesn't remember having this many arms before now; the second set do not respond the way the others do, but he manages to flail closer to the face. Lingers in the shadow it casts.

He stares at it, and gradually takes a hand and presses it against the nearest surface. The other he places on his own face, seeing the eyes set in the wall - feeling the shape of his own. The teeth, he shares with it. His nose is flatter.

The name surfaces in his memory: "Canis."

Is it his name or does it belong to the face?

In the end, would any of this matter? The name felt right for something. Before he could study it in greater detail the rotund creature was striding to his side, and he turned to meet it, absently placing one hand upon its thick shoulder.

The texture of their skin was curious to him and drew his attention briefly; he's reacting to things as if they are brand new to him, or maybe he's somehow intoxicated by the air flowing through the cave system? He strokes her.. almost tenderly, then catches himself as she speaks again.

He nods, hooks one of his wingtips across her back, and scrambles in a sudden dash to mount across her spine. It feels right - natural - and yet he's draping himself across the broad back of the creature garishly, using his arms like grappling hooks. It probably doesn't feel that great to have talons grabbing at flesh.

Easier than walking on his own though, he thinks.