ORIGIN

Alas, Hunger was nowhere near so creative or far-sighted. Nor, indeed, would it have cared to ask for such things even if it was.

Vargas offered it, perhaps, riches or safety, a future; Hunger asked for meat.

"Flessshhh...." was all it offered, after a long moment, the gurgling hiss becoming more 'gurgle' as water flooded into open jaws. For a moment the creature submerged; then it was at the surface again.

Water dripped from between its teeth, and then the red eye was watching Vargas again, black oil dripping from its sides.

...Well, so much for that.

A disappointing answer, in that apparently the creature was a completely dumb brute. Vargas himself strongly preferred cunning, for most tasks. But at least it was straightforward in its desires; he could respect that much, anyway.

"Meat. Very well. I will bring you meat, and in return you will breathe life into this stone." Curiosity took him, for a moment. Hunger was nowhere near as good a fighter as any of the trained creatures from his own era; but it struck him now that perhaps Hunger wasn't trained at all. It put a different spin on things; if the beast had been trained, would it perhaps be more useful-? Vargas had little intention of urging this one, at least, to join his spawn; he'd make an improved version of it soon enough, after all. But it would be good to know what to actually expect.

"Who trained you to fight?" he asked it, bluntly, simply. He doubted it would understand it any other way, after all.

It listened, and it considered, the thoughts--the words Vargas had given it--churning slowly through its mind. The single red eye darted here and there across the Master's form as it did so. Its voice came slower, rasping, as if it were confused; and perhaps it was, a little.

"I am not... 'trained,'" it began, as if this insulted it, somehow.

And then, as if to meet Vargas halfway, it continued. "I... hunt. Mother... hunted... Brother... huntsss... Father... huntsss..."

With this spectacularly useful bit of information imparted, the hybrid settled back into the water, watching Vargas, and waiting. "The onesss... with warm blood... with lightsss... in their hidesss... they are bessst..."

Vargas, admittedly, was not entirely sure what to make of all of this. He gathered that it had family--Dragon was its father, he believed, and he was fairly sure that Orthoclase-Alpha was going off to seek the brother. But--a mother-? A female creature... And Vargas realized, abruptly, that it must be a closer design to the Creator, even, than this.

Damn.

He hadn't heard of it, and didn't know of it, but it would undoubtedly have been a better choice than this thing. This showed a lot of Dragon's influence in its build; Vargas wondered what its mother had looked like. It almost sounded, though, like Hunger was saying it had eaten the others. Which was possible, but he'd seen Dragon not too long ago; so, unlikely.

Unaware that he was making a very similar deal to that Phlegethon was being offered, even now, by his own spawn, Vargas grunted his assent.

"Deer, then. I will bring you a couple of deer, in return." After a pause, eyeing Hunger up and down, he blurted--"You are very stupid, yes? This is not some form of act?"

It lay there gurgling quietly, a thinking-to-itself sort of sound, up until Vargas outright insulted it. Then its sound silenced, and its jaw widened slightly, turning, to fix that single terrible red eye upon the Master. It stared, for a very long moment.

There was some distant sense of indignance, an awareness that Vargas was mocking, or at least doubting, Hunger. But there was, too, calculating consideration.

Was it stupid..?

After a long moment, it came to its logical conclusion. "Perhapsss... yet... it iss you... who will be hunting... for me," it pointed out, simply.

Vargas was unsure if it was a sign of humor, or simple, dumb logic. He found it amusing, either way, and let out a single, loud bark of a laugh.

"A fair point," he reasoned. "Though if I wanted to I could have simply torn your head off and taken your stone for myself." The same dark humor he'd thought he might have perceived, reversed, but with a barb to it.

To this, Hunger did not respond--simply watching him with that eerie, unblinking stare, the single red eye in its throat observing him.

After a moment, he grunted. "I will go and bring you some meat," he agreed, at length. There was no real reason not to; Vargas was the consummate hunter, and it would not take him long at all. Best to stay on decent terms with these creatures when it cost him nothing to do so. Astraea even seemed to listen to them.

With that, Vargas paced off, not bothering to listen for a response. He called out over his shoulder, as he went. "Do not think to hide from this bargain; I will find you if you do." That warning thus delivered, he stalked off into the swamp to hunt.

Well, that was that, then.

Hunger held no care for a stone, or magic. It doubted it could even do it; Vargas had made a demand, and it had agreed, and only now did he remember that it might not even be able to fulfill its end of this bargain.

Oh, well. Maybe Vargas could teach it. Anything for some meat.

It watched the Master pace off, and it was coldly, distantly satisfied to see the slighest limp in the Leviathan's step.

Hunger then settled in to wait, slipping nearly back into that empty shell of a predator: mind empty of thoughts, though the aching in its own shoulder--and teeth--kept bringing it back to the present.