Vik, otherwise known as Victor Frankenstein, was perfectly content hovering in the expansive darkness, deep inside what was called the Creative Void. It was where creations of other people - authors, mostly - relaxed and simply... were. It was hard to explain, and the feeling that flowed through him was hard to place, for sure. But that didn't last as long as he expected it to.
While he was floating there, he heard a voice call out to him - calling both his name, and something else that he didn't quite get. There was a light, then - wrapping around his limbs, tugging and tugging. Of course, he wasn't resisting. He knew nothing of Gods and Beasts up until that moment, and he might have stayed content to have never learned. The knowledge of who he was, and what he was meant to do washed over him like a tidal wave - making it hard to concentrate on any one thing. He almost felt the madness slipping back into place, but grabbed a firm hold of his psyche and told it to behave. His Master - such as it be - was calling him, and he needed to make himself presentable.
Of course, pulling one out of the Creative Void took a vast deal of extra mana, and more than could be wielded without visible effect. Thus, when he arrived from out of the void, it was spectacularly. The papers that had been used to call him were - of course - untouched. But anything else within a five foot radius of the summoning circle that was not living... was fried beyond recognition. That included the tarp underneath him. He came to the world in a great flash of lightning, with the smell of burnt chemicals, hair, and clothing accompanying the sheer blast of mana-charged energy.
He landed in a bit of a crouch, with his hand to the floor to steady himself, and aid his landing. Standing on the ground was new, but came naturally to him - as did speaking for some reason. He didn't yet, turning around to meet the one who would bear his mark. Surely it wasn't that dog? ... With wings. Oh, now that was adorable. He smiled involuntarily, eyes traveling the area before him, until he met the gaze of his Master - or rather, Mistress. She KNEW she was his Mistress, and he knew it too. Hard not to, with that steely gaze.
Putting forth his best manners, he bowed toward her, before straightening up, and blowing a hank of pure-white hair out of his eyes. "Greetings, Master. My name is Victor Frankenstein, but you can call me Vik if it's easier. I will do my best to aid and serve you in whatever way I can. I am the Archer, you are my Mistress, and I obey only you... Might I ask, though..." He crouched, and held his hand out to Mousse. "Who is this adorable little chap?"