#odyssey

The Elder blinks, a little surprised by Gwen's apology. This puts her off guard a bit, and she nods. "Well. If you didn't know." Somewhat mollified.

Aoife takes this chance to take the elder by the arm, "See, Tonia - no foul play at work. Now, I wish to speak of you of where these suspicions came from."

Thistle's been a machine, pressing through, singularly focused... currently babysitting the kiln with a hawk's gaze as the glaze-fire burns. Those sensitive enough may detect how much of her soul - and her own glamour - that she has poured into the piece.

Dayana doesn't have the sensitivity to detect glamour workings, but she does quietly insist from time to time on Thistle accepting a cool drink. At one point, she threatens to throw the water on the kiln if Thistle doesn't accept.

"I wouldn't actually. But you're going to pass out if you keep sweating like that with nothing new. Here, drink."

Gwen is a bit quieter and lets her friend direct the convo

Dayana learns some interesting muttered swears, but the nocker does accept. Slowing down is hard.

Though at this point, she has little to do BUT wait.

Art arrives back, and pauses, looking around. Then, a glance at the kiln. "Oh, it's in there? Can't you build one with a window?"

"Depends on the style of kiln." She sounds exhausted - but then, she is.

“Sorry I wasn’t here. I wanted to see what the other side was up to.”

"I couldn't worry about them, really. I had to do this, completely. You know?"

Art squints at the side of the kiln as though if he focuses he could see through it.

"What's she doing? I mean, like, making something? Dancing?"

“Something with Magic. As far as I can tell, she’s just… sitting there. But I can feel it, in my bones, in my mind’s eye, the glamour building.”

"So... bunking?"

Sigh, shrug.

"I did my best. This is everything I got."

He nods. “Neither is it an art I know. At least… not one I remember.” A small frown. “I'm sorry.”

"I heard the Mer have their own special arts."

"Whatever it is, I have faith in you." A laugh, and, "If I had any money, I would bet it all on rainbow. Although let us face the facts, if I had any money, Little Louis would already have found a way to take it."

Snerk!

"Do you think I can have a peek?" He asks, hopefully.

The earlier watchers have dwindled, now that there is nothing to see.

She shakes her head.

"It needs to cool. Clay takes patience."

"Then I guess... we wait." Art sighs. Then, a rueful smile. "Sorry, I just... I want to see what you made. I really do."

She smiles. "You're a lousy critic. You like everything."

"Not true!" He grins. "I thought that the Spriggan-Sniffer mark 1 smelled terrible."

"Pew!" Citrine laughs!

A tired but genuine smile.

"Want me to bring something to eat? We're got a bit of time before sunset." Art offers.

He keeps checking the time.

"I should eat, probably."

She pulls on her salamander gloves - Art, Gwen and Dayana are pulled in to help prep The Object for transport.

Gwen grins "Showtime"

Art brings back simple food. Sandwiches, cut fruit, and makes sure that both Gwen and Thistle have something on their plates. Then, helps with packing up. They are on their way!

It is, of course, very Thistle - vibrant colors and dynamic asymmetry, things Blaine would have called "lopsided" and "garish"

And soon covered up. Dayana takes point, leading Grog - else the beast is tempted to turn around and wander back to his workshop.

When they arrive at the beach, the largest crowd yet has formed, and most are gazing in awe at the lovely, exotic lionfish Mer. She smiles at Thistle, showing off rows of densely packed teeth. A greeting, a challenge? Omario stands behind her, a hand resting proprietarily on her shoulder.

A swirl of glamour lurks just off shore, out of sight under the water.

Thistle is tired - there's no hiding it - but she carries with her an afterglow, the high of Creation carrying her, even after her soul was poured into a vessel.

Art walks to her right, carefully steadying the precious cargo.

Gwen holds steady.

She does return the mer's smile - nockers have shark-teeth, despite being drylanders.

This is noticed, and lady Aerissa's - the title seems perhaps to be simply courtesy, but who knows - smile grows a bit more.

Those gathered here today are not just selkie - many kin have shown up as well though they take positions further back, the cheap seats, as it were. A couple exceptions are a few warrior selkie who guard the perimeters, and a couple kin - Little Louis, scrappy enough to push to the front - Dayana, who stands beside Grog with his leash - and try to make HIM move -

...and... Judge! The elder sluagh is here, and he holds the young baby in his arms. Despite his drawn, severe, and boney appearance, like dark ashy skin pulled tight over a dried corpse - he holds her gently, and with care.

Saoirse is speaking, she gives the courtesy announcement, and then -

"This is the final challenge, and the winner tonight shall prevail. My people - look upon their demonstrations of skill. Keep in mind that the fate of a child - be she redfin or drylander - hangs in the balance. Judge not just with your eyes."

She looks to Thistle. As with the earlier challenges, it seems to be the Challenger's right to go first.

A nod at the mer, inviting her to present her work. "I cede the first presentation to the Lady Aerissa."

Glaidiola readies to see what this is

The Mer raises her hands, and her creation is pulled out of of the water. A hush falls over the crowd, and a chill runs over Thistle - nerves? Nope! The temperature of the beach has dropped significantly, as the magnificent ice sculpture comes into view.

Facet after facet after facet shines, catching and reflecting the light of the setting sun as though with a fire within the sculpture, made of ice - not solid, but expertly wrought with mirrored facet and pockets that catch and shine. The shape looks at first like a sea urchin, covered in spines, then as it catches the light, it is the sun, or a star.

Made of seawater ice, but not cloudy nor riddled with pocks - the salt drawn out into crystals itself that rime the edges of each spine and glitter like diamonds.

It is fantastic... and pure, utter frozen perfection, without any trace of flaw.

Gwen is impressed

So are those watching. Nadeen might cut off a finger for such a prize. Not her OWN finger, but still.

Gasps and murmurs from the audience.

The selkie crowd closer, wanting to get a look at the shining star.

Gwen remembers waht Lavender told her, and kens it, not for magic in the making so much as... well, illusion, or worse, beguiling