[ There's a mix of dust and crushed beetles scattered around and covering him, and his clothes are tattered and heavily stained with blood. Ananke himself is sitting up, leaned against a convenient tree. He's pale and dotted with fresh pink scars where the least of his wounds have been wholly healed, and scabs over the worst bites. His right arm is covered in Scarab's armor, and he's holding it gingerly in his lap. ]

—Hey. Sorry, I didn't really know what to say over the phone. Cube.