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LydaLynn last won the day on August 14 2011

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About LydaLynn

  • Birthday 08/29/1976

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    Georgia, USA

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  1. Freyja blinks as she moves away from the line, the doctor's words hitting home. She would have to make a better effort to blend in if she didn't want her aunt finding her. But none of this was anything like what she remembered from sailing with her father. Of course, it was a smaller ship, everyone knew everyone, and they never sailed very far. Now that they were moving away from the docks, Freyja felt she could take a moment on deck, away from the dark, close, odiferous claustrophobia of the hold. Moving to the seaward side of the boat, she leans against the rail, drinking in the fresh sea air. It might take her time to adjust back to a life of freedom, but she was looking forward to it.
  2. Freyja glowers at the idiot in line making wagers before turning her gaze back to the doctor. The looming thunderclouds in her eyes making no mistake that she does not want to be here. "My legs are fine. My hair is fine. I am a cleanly person and the boat has already left the dock. It's as likely that you'd transfer a louse as find one on me, thank you very much!'
  3. It was about time. Freyja steps up next to the doctor without a word. The glower on her face, however, speaks volumes.
  4. Freyja sighs at the immature young man. She didn't want to be here and things were not getting any more pleasant for his shenanigans. But there was nothing to do but wait in line and try not to get jostled by the sailors on either side of her. The one just behind her had obviously never learned there was any use for water beyond sailing over or brewing with. It was possible that if one tied a rope to him and tossed him over the side of the boat they wouldn't need to fish for day with the general reek of the man killing the aquatic life around the boat for leagues in every direction. Even a shark wouldn't be hungry enough to risk taking a bite of something smelling that foul. It was possible her nose had become more sensitive from her years locked away with her aunt, of course. But given the gap between him and the next man behind him in line, Freyja rather doubted it was just her. If she weren't so very ready to get this over with and be done with the 'inspection' affair, she might have moved to the end of the line just to be rid of the eye watering stench. But if a stiff breeze came up while she was down wind . . . she didn't even want to think about it. She was having a hard enough time holding on to her lunch as it was.
  5. Freyja was in line to be 'inspected' when the naked man came on deck. She knew her 'aunt' would want her to look away and blush. But she was NOT doing anything her aunt wanted. She allowed her eyes to take a moment to assuage her curiosity, her face clear of any emotion. Then she went back to impatiently waiting, neither staring nor avoiding looking at the man. Obviously he was interested in getting attention and she wasn't inclined to give it to him. Let some of the other female crew members flutter and make a fuss. She sighed as she moved closer to the doctor. She wasn't thrilled with the idea of this 'inspection.' He was going to touch her hair. Her hair! And there was not a good way to wash it on ship board. He could look in her eyes all he wanted, she'd even let him prod at her arms. But if he thought she was going to let him touch her legs, he had another think coming!
  6. Freyja is not enthused at the idea of 'health inspection'. Just what did that mean anyway? But with a sigh, she trudges back up to the deck, fool scrap in hand. Spotting Nanna on the deck, she walks over to the other woman. "I finished inventory. I wasn't certain how you wished such things denoted, so I took basic tallies and can transfer the information into whatever format you prefer. Here is the basic count." She holds her notes out for the Nanna to peruse.
  7. Finishing quickly, not so quickly as to have bolted her food, but with no time wasted, Freyja gets up. Taking her plate back to the kitchen, she heads out of the mess and towards the office. Maybe she can figure out on her own what Nanna wants done with her inventory lists. If not, she'll at least be out of the way of the crew and, more importantly, anyone who might know her aunt.
  8. Freyja takes her tray to an out of the way corner and sits to eat with quick efficiency. She keeps her head lowered, but looks out at the crew as she eats, watching for connections and disconnects. She doesn't even think about the way she reads people, it is something her 'aunt' taught her and second nature. Just as she doesn't think of the way she arranges her utensils and mug and everything else around her, the unconscious habit taught by her father that puts the most thing most useful as a weapon closest to hand. [[ I'm heading out of town for the weekend. I don't know if I'll have computer access so it might be Monday night or Tuesday before I can respond again. ]]
  9. Freyja finishes her counting. She had wondered if there would still be food, but by the sound of singing, she decides at the least there are still people in the mess. With a sigh she makes her way in that direction. Entering, her pale gold hair messily bound in multiple fishtail braids catching the lamp light, Freyja's green eyes take measure of the crowd. Her movements a strange contradiction as she seems to walk somewhere between a lady's glide and a hunter's prowl. Her limbs are softly rounded over wiry muscle and she is generously curved as are most Vesten women. She moves silently to get some of the little remaining food, nodding silently at the cook's reprimand for coming so late.
  10. Freyja looks up in surprise from her counting as a couple of crew walk past her. The language of one of the young men enough to arch an eyebrow in surprise. She had always heard of 'cursing like a sailor' but this was her first opportunity to hear such language. She made mental note of some of the more colorful phrases for possible future use.
  11. Freyja contents herself with the inventory. It is mind-numbing, but something she chose, for herself. And for that it is wonderful. For now, until they launch, she is happy to be away from the other crew and any visitors to the ship. She won't feel safe until there's significant water between her and her aunt.
  12. Freyja carefully reseals the box. She makes sure that it not only is re-hidden, but that it is in a place where it would be the last to be touched by water should something bad happen. In her notes, she marks it as linen. Then she continues counting as if she hadn't noticed anything particular.
  13. Freyja nods and decides that she can go ahead and get started with the boxes already aboard. Knowing where the writing supplies were from her earlier trial, she slips in and gets some bit of scrap to keep tallies upon as she works. She will transfer it to something nicer later, when she knows how Nanna wants the records kept. For now a charcoal stick and a bit of fools scrap will do. Moving down into the hold, she is careful to keep out of the way of those working as she begins taking note of what has arrived and in what quantities.
  14. "I am Freyja. And I appreciate the place among your crew." She answered, with a slight incline of her head. She wasn't interested in answering which name she'd call her 'blood'. That was not only complicated, but something that he didn't need to know.
  15. Freyja nods, "I will do what I can. I can read, write, and do math. I am skilled with a few weapons and I have been to sea before. I have no intention of letting anyone near my skirts, or of wearing them. I prefer breeches. As for being closer than kin . . ." She shakes her head, some emotion clouding her eyes for a brief instant before it clears. "I have had close kin and lost them. And I have had those who claim kinship with no closeness. I will not deny friendship and fellowship, but I will not seek it. If that is not acceptable, I will find another ship. But I promise no bonds of kinship before even the seeds for such might be sown." She stands straight, unconsciously proper. Freyja had learned her lessons in comportment well, though she might wish otherwise.
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