#odyssey

"I'm not afraid of color." She grins.

Gwen smiles

“You may choose a Redfin to give you your mark. It is an honor to be chosen.”

Art gives her a grin and a thumbs up!!

"Oh... that's something."

"It can't be a kin, can it?"

Saoirse frowns a little. “Traditionally… no, only Fin have and wear the mark.”

A long pause. “We must start to think- which traditions come to us with reason and sense, and which are just habit?”


“They are kin of the Redfin without being seal-souled… as are you yourself. If you wish it, you may ask it of them.” She allows.

Gwen listens curiously

"Because Janice..."

Saoirse blinks, and blinks again. Her deep Selkie eyes, so often cool and fathomless, look wet for a moment.

“If she wishes, then yes. My daughter is Redfin. She would have been Chieftess, had she not chosen another life. But she is my daughter again, and still, and kin.”

"And she's... my family, too, is all."

Art says, “Shall I fetch her?”

Thistle bobs her head. "Please."

Soon he’s back with Janice, and Rayana and Dayana have brought supplies. The warrior sister has a box of chimerical dyes, and the scholar, a box of needles and ink, for the mortal and chimerical mark.

Janice gives Thistle a quick hug. “Thank you.” She whispers. “It is an honor.”

Aloud; she asks where Thistle would like her mark?

Some have it on their biceps or hip, ankles or wrist, neck or back- visible
or hidden.

"Hip seems right, I think." Easy to hide at home, easy to show in a swimsuit...

Janice smiles- her own tattoo, though faded, is on her hip!

Art blushes a bit. “Uh, should I, um. I can go?”

"It's up to you? I mean, it's not that scandalous."

His ears are a bit red. Apparently even if it’s the same spot visible in a swim suit, one clothing Needs be shifted to bare it, ours DIFFERENT.

Saoirse just laughs, a gentle amusement. Selkie, it seems, or just island folk, are a little less prudish than some young Sidhe.

The spot is chosen and Dayana mixes the dyes, Niamh adds a sprinkle of chimerical dust- or glitter? It’s magical, whatever it’s made of- and Janice, as requested, sets the needle to Thistle’s skin. It’s just a single sharp stick, and then a cold burning sensation, hot and prickly and cold as a plunge into icy water- and then it’s over! Fresh and brilliantly red, the now familiar wave symbol stands out Bold on Thistle’s pale skin.

When it's done, Gwen approves "Bitchin"

"(*&^%!!!"

Arthur had turned to keep Thistle’s modesty, ears almost as red as her tattoo.

"Art, it's safe!"

"It really looks good'

"Old-school, stings a bit. But yeah, it's cool."

He turns back around, and admires through his blush. “The edge of the wave- swirl looks like a fin, sticking up from ah, the, ah… Where your suit would lie.”

The term “pantyline” may be innocuous enough, but far too much of a reach for poor Art.

“But it looks..” He squints And steps fired, now intent enough to almost forget that the mark that has his attention is on a feminine curve.

“Look, at the edges!”

The color is shifting- no longer just blood red- now red overall, but melting, fading along a spectrum. The color swirls ,steadies after a moment.

Niamh beams.

THISTLE thinks she feels a hint of the same glamour that was on the Saining garb! What IS that power?!

"Oh, gorram gavaldson, I gotta learn that trick!"

"Surreal"

Art has his nose almost touching her hip as he squints and examines the mark. “You are fidgeting! I am trying to see.” He complains jovially.

She blushes!

"I'm not gonna complain about a rainbow."

“It’s fantastic.” He agrees.

"Yeah." Her breath catches for a moment and she bites on her lip. "I'm glad you like it."

He straightens up. “It’s not a star, but nothing is perfect…”

That gets him light elbow

Eyeroll, grin.

He laughs. Saoirse gives Gladiola a tightly rolled letter with a Redfin seal. “This is for your liege. Seamus will see you on your way.”

ANOTHER round of goodbyes and hugs, but they are moving!

A quick boat ride to the next island over- Little Louis is already sitting out on the poor battered ship, now HIS, and waves as they go! Then the airport!

The gate attendant looks down her nose a bit at their island garb- their mortal clothes look like they were outfitted from a tourist shop… because they were.

But once she sees the First Class tickets, her attitude changes to smiles and helpful!

'thank you, Chieftess"

(Put that earlier)

And Gwen is with the others on the boat ride, looking not at the island they left, but eagerly forward. Yeah, the tickets are first class Stuck up system anywhere you go

They have a few minutes to shop at the duty free shops, then on to the Plane!

The airline seats are luxurious, and stuck up or not; Gwen may appreciate it when she Passes the coach and economy seats, apparently made to spindle and fold even a smaller woman than herself.

"Ain't this the way to travel?"

Thistle thwumps into one of the generous seats.

Art claims a window seat. “I have never flown before! Not on a plane…”

"It's nice" She admits taking the cushy seat that even she can fit in