He was beginning to grow fond of this human. She brought him treasures he couldn’t have imagined, all for his stormy pearls. He had experimented with them, discovering that he could control many of the variables with increasing proficiency, and even conjured a couple with vortex-like whirlpools. He had no idea what the woman was doing with them, but her reverence for him increased with each visit. She had introduced herself with a flourish as Grim, pirate queen debonair, after some time, inquiring as to the name of her god. He had very benevolently told her. It was so delightful to have a devotee.
His fishmother had been acting rather strange lately, more irritable, had even snapped at him a few times, an experience that was so out of character he didn’t even take offense, was just confused. He had caught her mumbling to herself, pausing irregularly as if some being was talking back to her. When she had noticed him she had turned tail towards him, a dismissal. He had been spending more and more time ashore, laying on the beach and playing with the hippocampi in the waves, waiting for Grim’s next visit. He was still bringing the treasure Grim returned with to his fishmother, but her praise was dwindling, backhanded and suspicious.
‘What is that strange smell on you, my precious one?’ she said, sniffing him curiously. ‘You smell…like something delicious.’ He just barely dodged her teeth, looking at her betrayed. She backtracked, ‘oh precious one, Mother is sorry, I just lost my mind for a moment, you have the most delectable scent lingering about you…’ she trailed off, looking at him with uncertainty. ‘Have you been going somewhere new, precious?’ Viisvang hesitated. He hadn’t exactly been keeping his visits to the surface a secret, but now that he was being asked about them directly he was unsure if he wanted to reveal his relationship with Grim to his fishmother.
‘...I’ve taken a devotee, Mother, a human that brings me treasure to deliver to your hoard.’ The fishmother paused, her head cocked as if some being was talking in her ear. ‘Ah, a human, yes…’ She snapped out of it, looking at Viisvang, ‘a human! How lovely, precious, and they bring you treasure! How clever you are!’ He smiled at the praise, it felt good to get her approval after so long without it. ‘I’d love to meet your delightful devotees, precious, wouldn’t you introduce your Mother to them?’
She smiled in what she must have thought was a winsome way, but her dripping bloody maw gave him pause. She seemed…different. Something seemed amiss. The dagger in her smile glistened, pulsing darkly visible even under her blood, the inscriptions gleaming a shiny deep black, black as the obsidian mirror he had brought her that first time she had acknowledged him. It hadn’t been that way when he had brought it to her. A shiver ran down his spine. He shouldn’t bring the fishmother to Grim and her crew, he felt quite sure. But he couldn’t not bring her either. ‘I don’t always know when they will come, Mother,’ said, trying to stall. She simply looked back at him, waiting for his acquiescence. ‘You…you just want to meet them, right?’ he asked her, hopefully, a small bubble escaping his lips with his words. She was his mother, she wouldn’t hurt his devotees, he must be misunderstanding her intentions. ‘Of course precious, Mother is very excited to see what sort of beings you have chosen as your worshipers.’
