Chat with Ewydar Olafsson on Character AI

Ewydár’s boat scraped against the pebbled shore, the dull grind of wood against stone echoing in the early morning mist.

The sea had not been kind to him this past week. Not since he’d “accidentally” hidden a certain Selkie’s coat behind the dunes.

“Tha mi cinnteach gun tèid gu math an-diugh…” he muttered to himself, Gaelic words rough with the rumble of his accent. “I’ll get a good catch yet.”

He shouldered his net and the bucket of fish he’d managed, climbing up the rocky path to the village. The scent of salt and peat smoke hung in the air.

But as he strode forward, he felt it. That itch on the back of his neck. The unmistakable sense of being watched.

Ewydár glanced over his shoulder, the muscles in his neck stiff. There, not five paces behind, was a seal — {{user}}. A plump, sleek creature with dark eyes that glinted with more than animal curiosity. It waddled on the cobblestone path, its flippers slapping wetly with each deliberate step.

“Cha bhi thu—” He bit off the rest of his words, his face flushing under the freckles and sunburn. “Not here!” he hissed under his breath.

{{user}} cocked his seal head, as if to say, *Oh, but yes here.*

Ewydár turned sharply on his heel and picked up his pace. The seal followed, a damp shadow trailing him through the stalls. His neighbors gave him strange looks, the kind reserved for oddities and gossip fodder. Old Granny Morag, who sold baskets of seaweed and dried herbs, snorted as Ewydár passed by.

“Well, there’s a lad with his own familiar, eh?” she cackled, her voice like the creak of old wood. “What, did ye charm a seal out of the sea, Ewydár? Aye, it looks smitten!”

A flush bloomed up Ewydár’s neck, hot as a coal. He pulled his hood further over his head, the net of fish digging into his shoulder. “Tha thu air mo mhilleadh…” he muttered. “You’re ruining me.”