Swiftcurrent Creek Only hate the road when you're missing home.

The fire kissed woman offered him an apology with a gentle smile that let Nefarious know he may have stepped some sort of boundary that she did not wish to cross with his words, speaking that she believed in only what she could see. “Don't be ridiculous, I'm hardly offended,” The Kesuk responded with demure swiftness, wanting to aid in defusing any misunderstandings that may have occurred. At least now, though, Nefarious knew better than to speak about his own belief in faith. He had assumed upon his arrival in Swiftcurrent Creek that he would have to keep it on the down low, though such a thing felt like an insult to Atka and Sos. Despite that he saw the bears through his day to day dealings with the world, it was true that it was not a gift that all wolves who followed the faith was bestowed; and as far as Suluk was able to tell him it was a rare thing to be connected to both of them. Nefarious could understand her way of thinking though. It was hard to believe in something that you could not see, or feel. To a certain degree, the Shaman agreed. It had taken a couple sightings of Atka and Sos, and a few more months to initially conquer his fear of them before he fully believed and jumped into the arts of voodoo and shamanism.

To say that Nefarious did not expect Paarthurnax's following question wouldn't be the complete truth. It did not come as a complete surprise, though deep down, Nefarious had been hoping his vagueness did not spark the curiosity, despite that he suspected it would have. It usually did. Nefarious should have been good at side stepping it, and typically, he was. Usual routine was simple enough: admit that the right to know his true name, given to him by the Gods through Suluk, was something that he was to covet like a stolen secret. Though it sometimes weird-ed out those who had asked, the subject was typically dropped. His gaze examined Paar, brow furrowing slightly as he attempted to figure out why he suddenly had the urge to just tell her. Perhaps it was because she didn't believe, and likely wouldn't believe and so he felt that giving her his true name would have no real bearing. She wasn't going to take advantage of his gift, and anyway, Nefarious wasn't the small, helpless and frightened child he'd been when Suluk had found him and took him in, and introduced him to ...everything. Nefarious was a man grown and could take care of himself, with words, poison or (and this was typically a last resort to the Shaman) physical confrontation. He wasn't afraid anymore, and it seemed silly, now that he thought about it, to continue to hide his name.

He had done it for so long that it had become nothing more than habit. That “Nefarious” had became a character in and of itself: a mask that he wore in the face of strangers.

“It is Anik,” The Inuit name rolled off of his tongue as if it had been his native language, though instead it was a secondary one. “It means Seer, or Prophet. I suppose I should explain that it lies heavily in my beliefs and faith, but I won't bore you with the details,” Nefarious respected her right to not believe in anything in particular so considered that avoiding details was the best route to go. The Shaman was left with an odd feeling then, like he was left standing naked in a crowd of people. He felt exposed to Paar, though all he had done was give her his true name. In hindsight: it was small, literally nothing and yet he couldn't help the way it had left him feeling. Slightly chagrined with a dash of trepidation, doubting his decision simply because he felt that he could trust her without any rational proof to back up the gut feeling.

Nefarious couldn't deny that the exotic woman before him left him feeling ...charmed. Like a cobra put in a trance by music.