[ As if called by an unheard summons, Set arrives not that long after John does. It gives him time to gather himself, a thin layer of sand that drapes over the earth and roots in subtle rivers, difficult to spot but not impossible. One only had to have a degree of imagination, to consider what things Set might be doing at any given time; he does not speak often of his abilities, nor their adaptable nature, and definitely not any limitations he might have. This part allows him to watch, while John sets up his site.

Blood and bone, sigils that he does not recognize but is deeply enraptured by. It takes him little time to decide to take form, pooling sand into the shape of limbs — his elbows upon a root and hands propping up his chin, belly-down against the length of it, like a teenager girl that has been chatting away the hours of the night with her bestie. Though his hips and legs are forming more slowly, the dark line of his mask tilts to reveal the edge of his smile. ]

You look like you are having fun, John Gaius!

[ There he is, draped over the curve of one of those great roots, idly swinging his legs behind him as he observes the lay of the land. An ambush predator, laid in wait. ]

Should I remain here, or would it be permissible for me to come down now?