Dr. Whooves and the Reality War

 "I'm not questioning your judgement, Ebb," Storm Wrack began, his expression contradicting his statement, "What I'm asking is, what's the point? Honestly, when we were all asleep, at least we were still alive. Now that we've proven we can't be imprisoned, what's to keep ol'fish-face from trying a more permanent solution. And that's without even considering–"

"Storm, I think we all know what you're considering." Longshore interrupted the younger kelpie. "You want to protect your hide? That's fine, just swim off that way and keep going." He gestured in what happened to be the direction of the only dry land in fifty leagues.

Ebb Flow sighed, putting a hoof on her forehead. "The point'a this council is to discuss whether or not we need a new Deep Queen." She paused, eyeing the hoof-full of neighsayers before continuing, "AND, if we think that seems like something that should be done, whether or not this newcomer fits the bill."

The Kelpies spoke as they walked, at a leisurely pace, across the barren surface of Vol Orros. In the abyssal deep, the stark white coral had seemed no more inappropriate than any other building material, but up here, in the sun's territory, it had a stark feeling that left the gathering feeling very exposed.

When nokelpie saw fit to make any arguments, Ebb spoke again, "Alright then, those in favor of appointing a new Deep Queen?"

The ayes were numerous and varied in their colorfulness.

The eldest Kelpie nodded, pleased. "Then does anykelpie have a candidate to put for–"

"Oh shove your tactfulness in Davy Jones's locker, just pose the vote and let's be done with it!" Storm Wrack grumbled.

Ebb stopped and glared at the younger kelpie until the stallion was unable to return her glare. "There are forms to be observed, and darn good reasons we follow them, boy. Perhaps one of your juniors can remind you..." She smiled, turning to the two youngest members of the discussion, Flotsam and Jetsom. "Did you learn the three trials a kelpie must face before being proven worthy of being the Deep Monarch?"

The two moltlings looked at each other, muzzles scrunched in concentration, before they nodded to their elder.

"I... I think the first is the Trial of Teeth, that any leader must first demonstrate that they can lead a successful hunt against a great deep beast." Flotsam mumbled. She had just begun her learning when she was rounded up.

Flow nodded, eyeing the slightly older kelpie to continue.

"Um, next comes the trial... the Trial of the Mind." Jetsom's voice became more confident as he continued. "A leader must be able to harness power and use it effectively. Would that be... raising the city?"

Flow shrugged, while smiling in a manner that suggested there could honestly be no other conclusion. "And the last?"
 

"Ah... Heart?" Jetsom faltered, but Jetsom nodded. "The Trial of the Heart, a true leader must be both brave and concerned for her subjects."

There was a general murmur from the group, watching a squealing school of fry run by, chasing one of Riptide's tentacles.

Storm Wrack seemed less confident, but also unwilling to admit defeat. "Well there's the weak part of your argument. What's this newcomer ever done for us?" He frowned, "Why... ok, I'm going to regret asking, but why are grinning, elder Flow?"

"Because the fact that you're even awake to ask your silly questions is proof that Riptide has already done more to protect our people than Abyssia ever did." The statement brought a few hisses, but none of the Kelpies said aloud anything to gainsay Ebb Flow's assertion.

Storm opened and closed his mouth several times. No sounds issued forth. He frowned, he grinned, he scowled, he winced, and then he shrugged. "Ok, ok." He sighed, eyeing his elder. "But you realize that taking a vote at this point is at least partly gloating, don't you?"

"Indeed." Ebb's eyes widened in mock surprise at the suggestion.

The young adult glowwered, his expression having no force behind it, "But you're going to hold one anyway." It was not a question.

"Indeed." Ebb replied, treating the rhetorical as actual.

The call was unanimous.