Post by Gunda Torvik on Jul 7, 2011 23:40:21 GMT -5
So, this was Hogsmeade?
The soft crunching of snow beneath heavy boots blended in with all the hustle and bustle of locals preparing for the festivities. A stout figure dressed in thick furs walked among them, tugging a little on the dark, Russian fur hat adorning her head. Of a good height and broad stature, she could easily be mistaken for male. The fact her chest was bound and the outfit of thick and heavy hides didn't help matters. But at the same time it mattered not, as wizards and witches were too frantic in their shopping to really pay attention to others. In a way It was a relief and a curse, fitting in so well; Gunda hated direct attention on her that was outside a system, especially for being stared at simply for being different, but at the same time... she could really use directions.
Having left Svalbard for Durmstrang Institute had been hard, but to then leave Durmstrang Institute for London, England? Having arrived just a few days ago, Gunda could only thank whatever was up there that she had been taught English, even if it was rather basic and guttural sounding, still applying Norwegian accent to English words. Already she had flustered a few others earlier when asking for the proper route, having guilt tripped them accidentally; they couldn't understand her through the heavy accent. Needless to say, it had equally flustered the introverted Nordic. She hadn't asked for directions again.
Hence the current dilemma.
The signs elaborate fonts made them hard enough to read when your first language was English, and to a foreigner who had just moved via request of her father a week ago, they might as well be in Arabic. With a great sigh the socially awkward woman rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the bristle of short, ash blonde hair poking her. There was one sign up ahead that was neat enough for Egyptian blue eyes to read, though, and lucky enough it was a pub. The Three Broomsticks.
When in doubt, have a drink.
Opening the door, the little jingle sound out but no one gave notice, which was probably for the better, and the Aryan sat herself. Once off to the side, out of main view, and a nice butter beer in front of her, she began to shed some of the bulky clothing as the roaring fire near her heated the frost bitten skin. Gloves set down, fur trench coat unbuttoned, and eventually the fur hat as it became too warm, leaving short blonde hair messed in a strangely 'cute' way.
Gunda sat stiff in the chair, nursing the drink closely as she took a large swig, thinking over her options. Her position as an auror had been established naught 3 days ago, and already on a mission she was lost. Trying not to sulk, Gunda Torvik sighed and rubbed her face, congratulating herself sarcastically on another job well done.
The soft crunching of snow beneath heavy boots blended in with all the hustle and bustle of locals preparing for the festivities. A stout figure dressed in thick furs walked among them, tugging a little on the dark, Russian fur hat adorning her head. Of a good height and broad stature, she could easily be mistaken for male. The fact her chest was bound and the outfit of thick and heavy hides didn't help matters. But at the same time it mattered not, as wizards and witches were too frantic in their shopping to really pay attention to others. In a way It was a relief and a curse, fitting in so well; Gunda hated direct attention on her that was outside a system, especially for being stared at simply for being different, but at the same time... she could really use directions.
Having left Svalbard for Durmstrang Institute had been hard, but to then leave Durmstrang Institute for London, England? Having arrived just a few days ago, Gunda could only thank whatever was up there that she had been taught English, even if it was rather basic and guttural sounding, still applying Norwegian accent to English words. Already she had flustered a few others earlier when asking for the proper route, having guilt tripped them accidentally; they couldn't understand her through the heavy accent. Needless to say, it had equally flustered the introverted Nordic. She hadn't asked for directions again.
Hence the current dilemma.
The signs elaborate fonts made them hard enough to read when your first language was English, and to a foreigner who had just moved via request of her father a week ago, they might as well be in Arabic. With a great sigh the socially awkward woman rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the bristle of short, ash blonde hair poking her. There was one sign up ahead that was neat enough for Egyptian blue eyes to read, though, and lucky enough it was a pub. The Three Broomsticks.
When in doubt, have a drink.
Opening the door, the little jingle sound out but no one gave notice, which was probably for the better, and the Aryan sat herself. Once off to the side, out of main view, and a nice butter beer in front of her, she began to shed some of the bulky clothing as the roaring fire near her heated the frost bitten skin. Gloves set down, fur trench coat unbuttoned, and eventually the fur hat as it became too warm, leaving short blonde hair messed in a strangely 'cute' way.
Gunda sat stiff in the chair, nursing the drink closely as she took a large swig, thinking over her options. Her position as an auror had been established naught 3 days ago, and already on a mission she was lost. Trying not to sulk, Gunda Torvik sighed and rubbed her face, congratulating herself sarcastically on another job well done.
