The Unwanted Wendigo [ManxMan]

Chapter Twenty-five: Parley

~Chapter Twenty-five: Parley~

"You want something, Shirtless Wonder?" I ask, crossing my arms behind my head as I make myself comfortable on the floor. The floor is, by no means, actually comfortable, of course, but though lying down might leave me at a disadvantage, it also says I am unconcerned, and that is exactly how I need to come across right now. That does not mean I actually feel that way, but bluffing is sometimes necessary.

After all, how am I supposed to feel unconcerned when I am pretty sure this guy smells like foreign ocean and magic underneath all the cave smells?

"To settle my curiosity, yes," he confirms, standing up a little straighter so that I have to turn my head to see his face, as he is no longer leaning over me. "It's not every day I see one of the Algonquian's below Pacific waters."

It is not so much the name that surprises me, as I am quite familiar with the different Native tribes, but those living underwater are pretty removed from the world above the surface, so it is a little odd that he knows it. "I'm not Algonquian," I reply slowly. Neither of my parents came from any of the Native Algonquian tribes. My sire was half Cree before he became a wendigo, which makes all previous human descent moot, so he told me stories about the different Algonquian tribes, but still...

"Not in blood," Shirtless Wonder agrees without question, rubbing a hand over his green goatee, "but in magic. Just as a minotaur is Greek but not of Greece, a wendigo is Algonquian but not of the tribes."

Humming softly, I eye the definitely-not-Mer warily, because what he is discussing it not magic in general but magic referring to very specific pantheons. And while there are plenty of people who know about that kind of stuff, as shamans and such have to know about the pantheons and their gods, I also remember one other being who smelled like magic as strongly - well, stronger, actually, but still very close - of magic and very little else.

This guy doesn't smell nearly as good, though.

"So, what did you want again, Shirtless Wonder?" I ask, because god or not, respect is not really in my repertoire right now.

It's rude to interrupt a wendigo's meal, after all.

If the scaled god sees anything wrong with the way I am addressing him, he does not point this out. Instead, he regards me for a moment before asking, "What are you to the little Mokosh family? I have seen how you spend much of your time in their palace."

It takes me a moment to remember what a Mokosh is, as it is not like the Mer really rely on last names when talking about the royal family members since there are quite a few of them, but since I do not see the wisdom in sharing that information with a strange god - Stranger danger! All he needs is some candy and a white panel...boat? - I just grin. "What's it to you?"

"As I said, curiosity," the scaled god says, scratching his bearded chin. "I also have a request for you to hear out, but it means little to me, so it can wait."

I kind of want to hear the request first, though...

Rather than say that out loud, I casually point out, "Surely there are other ways to ease your curiosity that don't involve approaching me. Your past actions haven't been very direct."

At the inquisitive look I receive, I elaborate, "Your threw a trident at that thing with big teeth and didn't take credit. I know gods aren't supposed to get involved with the mortal world, but you still involved yourself, only to disappear."

"Ah, the Cetus," he muses, rubbing his beard again, and I have to wonder if that is a habit of his when he is thinking. "My father killed the Cetus, actually, but it wasn't for the benefit of your Mer. The Cetus was disobeying orders, and my father had to make an example of it."