#odyssey

"Yeah." She rubs the back of her neck. "I mean, that's the smart take. Have him make something, me make something, and pit them against each other."

"I'm good at mechanical things."

"And not bad at chemistry. Alchemy."

“That would be a good challenge of skill.”

Seamus considers.

"Yeah." She echoes.

Dayana says, “but what about artistry?”

Thistle's eyes drop to the ground and she shrugs.

“There’s artistry in battle.” The young warrior returns.

"This is too important."

Dayana retorts, “Brute force is not the only way to win. You should know that. Does Omario?”

Citrine is riding on Grog’s head gleefully.

"There's probably some clever way to play the game. Like Art figured out."

Thistle sounds resigned, rather than excited.

Seamus looks like he will press his idea, but Dayana interrupts. “Omario looks at you and sees a Tinker, a Nocker, a creator. He may expect you to something that whirrs and spins and floats and sparkles. But he does not know you. What is in your heart to create?”

From one artisan to another.

She shakes her head, spirals dim. "It was a stupid idea."

Seamus shakes his head. “How can something that comes from the heart be stupid?” A glance at Dayana. She misses it, fetching more scraps for Grog.

"Because it is, and I couldn't do it anyways. When I fool myself, I just make ugly, formless things."

"Pretending to be something I'm not."

"You're right, there's got to be something clever. A way to use my kith, or my magic, use something..."

Dayana looks uncertain. But Seamus speaks, “the trial of Cleverness is Wits. The trial of Skill, can be… anything that is skilled. A poem, a song, a flower grown, a flower arranged. A perfect shell, an interpretation of the song of the waves.

A work of magic, a dance, a creation.

Remember that Fate will guide you. Have faith, if not in yourself, then faith that your cause is just, and you’ll find your way.”

"I wanted to..." She trails off and frowns.

Dayana is looking at Seamus curiously. “Maybe you're not just a cocky betta fish after all.”

“Hey, what’s that mean?” He calls after her, but she grins and doesn't answer.

“Thistle, let's see how that clay works. I'm curious about the properties with the added reagents.”

Seamus is being ignored now. He huffs, “I'll let you know when time to leave for the next Challenge.”

"Yeah, okay. Yeah, let's try it."

(Fade out to experimentation!)

Fade in to a blast of hot air as the kiln door is cracked.

“I didn’t hear any explosions.” Dayana says, hopefully.

"That's promising!"

She opens the door, and holds it for Thistle to head in and retrieve her test work.

"And then we can see what happens when Grog lest out the nacre-infused shit... I'm betting it'll be shimmery!" Thistle pulls on her gloves to retrieve the test pot - just a small thing, unglazed.

Citrine buzzes in, and then buzzes out again- the heart alarming her!

The color, or colors, from Grog’s clay, if used, shine through with a depth that goes beyond glaze, rich and present through the very grain of the piece.

And… it is perfectly fired. No crack, no shatter, no bubbles.

A soft whistle. "(*&&%()(_." Was that English? Dayana might not be sure.

Dayana looks it over. “I have good money, put it in water, and she’ll swim away.”

Clearly impressed.

"I might be able to do it... we cut out the cure time, I could do it..." She turns the little seal back and forth in her hands. There are only two whiskers scratched on the right side of the snout, vs the three on the left.

"You wanna keep her?"

“I’m still practicing on greenware and cleaning the kilns. But I know good work when I-“

Dayana stops! “I couldn’t!” Clearly surprised. “…you mean it?”

"Sure, why not?"

Made of rich island clay, enhanced by chimerical means- the kin accepts it, and hugs the small thing to her chest. It might be a bit of dross to any fae. To a kinain, it will help her remember.

“I love it.”

A flash of a smile, a bit shy. "Thanks."

“You need more clay for your challenge? I’ll have as much as you need ready. Or ingredients, and Grog.”

She bites on her lip, hesitating before a firm nod!

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna do it. I can do it."

Citrine Chimes at the kiln door! There is a sound, a long, low bugle? No, a horn. No, not quite right.

Seamus answers that riddle, “the Conch calls us back. Are you ready, Thistle?”

"Oh, oh, hell. It's time. Right."

"Here we go. I hope Art is ready...."

Dayana waves! “Go n-éirí leat! Good luck!”