#odyssey

Niamh nods, letting a small smile slip through at the rational Art gives.

Aoife chuckles. "If he's going for flattery, I'll take it." But she hushes as she sees that Gladiola is tense and whispering to Thistle.

"I don't get it."

A look to Aofie "Sorry, just something doesn't seem quite...likely about this"

Aoife offers, "I don't know if there's a seal here who could best Máthair Niamh. She has the knowledge of generations."

But then, Art is ready, and says to Niamh, with a hopeful look and a smile on his face - one hand clasping something small that he holds for luck.

"What is my true Name?"

BLINK.

Gwen pauses

then thinks He better hope no one DOES know

Niamh looks up at him with those deep, wise, eyes, and smiles, then gives him a small bow, of respect.

She turns, and faces the Audience. Her young voice pipes up with, "I resign, and deed victory to the Challenger."

A small POP, like a soap bubble, and the veil fades.

An uproar over the crowd! Some cheering, some yelling, some just TALKING!

Omario raises his voice as he storms towards the stage. "I object!"

Thistle interposes herself between Omario and Art, arms crossed and a defiant glare in place.

Nevermind how much he outclasses her in height and weight!

"On what grounds? Arthur put himself in real danger if that riddle got answered. " A look to Art as if he was crazy but she thinks she understands, "However dangerous it was to ask, the answer was not given. It's reasonable and with no shame to admit a victory to a foe then"

The tall, muscular Selkie was actually heading towards Niamh, though Art has stepped over to stand beside her.

Thistle finds that she is not alone! Seamus and Aoife, Vittorio and little Louis, and a few others they do not know - not a majority, but enough, also move in, blocking his advance.

Omario retorts to Gladiola, "She is my Champion chosen, and MUST answer. I demand it!"

"And I was Thistle's champion in the test of courage, and she never said I MUST Lift you to the surface so you didn't drown. Be glad champions are still capable of choice. Your life continues because of it"

Omario is known to the redfin, and some waver, uncertain where their allegiance lies. But more, others, listen to Gladiola, and the tide starts turning.

"He accepted the champion, them's the breaks!"
"Fair is fair, if she gives up, that's on her!"
and others, "no respect" "...think he is?" "Puffed up blowfish..."
Including Aoife - "How DARE you demand anything of Máthair Niamh?! Or even raise your tone to her? Have you no respect?!"

Thistle knows enough to keep her mouth shut in this spat.

Saoirse does not immediately react. She is watching, taking note, seeing who moves with which tide. And then she speaks up.

"Omario, accept the loss." A tone of finality. "You chose the champion, you accept her decision."

He FUMES. "I will speak with her directly. Now."

Saoirse turns on him. "This discussion is Over. Retire, and prepare for your last challenge. Unless you wish to Forfeit? Say one more word to, or of, Máthair Niamh, and this will end NOW!"

GLARE. Nockers seem to run an internal furnace, to run a gaze so hot.

Louder, and to the crowd, "We are Redfin. We must not be divided. The contest is over. You accept my rule, you accept my word. This is final."

Omario looks like he will say more... but he walks off instead. A few selkie peel off to follow him - they walk straight into the surf, dive, and vanish.

Murmurs in the crowd, though they start to break up and dissipate in smaller groups.

Thistle exhales.

"That's not good" She notices the formation of Omario loyalists

Aoife shakes her head. "He is filled with hot air."

"What? Of course he's got followers. He's of Redfin, he's a warrior, he's related to the Chief. We're drylanders."

Art has slid down, and is helping Niamh off the podium.

"Outsiders."

"Yeah, but the ..." She lowers her voice "This looks like a schism forming, between them, and I'm not sure everyone is happy with the idea we could win"

"Can we get something to drink?" Art has a light hand on Niamh's shoulder. The little selkie gives Thistle a glance, uncertain.

"Well, they shouldn't have stolen my sister."

"Hey Niamh. You're furkin' amazing at riddles!"

A smile, and her eyes shine. "You are not upset with me?"

Art shakes his head. "Told you. Thistle plays fair."

"Well, Omario clearly wanted the best champion."

"I thought I was decent at riddles but by the end of it, I was lost on a lot of them. Nice work, Art"

"It was close!"

"Like tomorrow, I want to just straight up make something good." She shrugs. "Right now, we're two out of three."

"I worried you would not want to tell me more stories, as I stood as his Champion. But it is my duty to not take sides. Challenge-right is for everyone. And fate rules challenges, whether win or lose." Niamh says, and looks out over the water.

"I figured you saw it as your duty. You might not have trolls here, but I've known Gladiola a while. Shamu can get real stoic when duty and honor are on the line."

Art comments absently, "There is a storm coming." Looking at the clear sky spotted with fluffy white clouds.

"This Shamu nickname, that's gonna be a thing, isn't it?" resigned

"YUP."

Niamh giggles.

"Is that... literal or metaphorical, Art?"

"Well, Willy gets to call me Egg for sure now. Got to be fair"

Then she turns to Art "Huh?"

He blinks. "Oh. I asked for juice. Niamh sounded a little parched."