Post by Gunda Torvik on Jul 8, 2011 23:37:57 GMT -5
(Cont. from 'A Stranger in a Foreign Land' from The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade.)
Well, that was different from walking. Having only apparated a few times in her life (she may be trained in wizardry, but she was still a small town girl), Gunda luckily remembered to brace her feet when it stopped. Managing not to stagger, though having to blink a few times, the Viking of a woman followed obediently, doing as the fellow blonde instructed and placed the American on the couch rather gently.
Now that the bundle was gone from her arms the stench of fresh puke on her jacket reminded her of that dilemma. It was a relief when Anthony spoke up again, but now reality of the situation became apparent. She had just carried a drunk girl home with her two male friends after being vomited on, and to add insult to injury they had apparated here, to a place she didn't know, in a country she wad dumbfounded by.
Dritt.
Why must she be so gullible for friendship? In the end, Gunda remained calm about it all, removing her jacket with slight disdain at the stench (though it still wasn't as bad as a fresh kill, or, and God forbid she ever have to smell it again, harkal.) Though their skills with a wand were unknown, she still possessed a great physical strength, even against two men. (And this is when Gunda is thankful she has three older siblings, two of which are brothers and one of which is a very, very crazy sister who's scary good with a blade.)
With all this in mind, the coat was removed a little shyly, revealing dark brown cargo pants with deep pockets, which seemed to be filled, and a knife strap more towards the ankle; the hunter's knife, with sheath, wasn't hidden at all. Trailing eyes upward would then see a V-neck sweater, pitch black, that clung to skin. Her frame wasn't thin, but there wasn't exactly fat, either. It was more that her body structure was broad; wide hips, a decent sized chest (even binded there was a bulge), a stomach with actual meat and not just bone.
Gunda Torvik wasn't exactly pretty, or even beautiful, but she was strong, durable, and had a certain elegance that could be compared to a hunter's. Once someone saw the rough accent, the force that stood with purpose, the composure, the strength, maybe, just maybe, then they could see the pretty face too shy to face the world, hidden beneath ash blonde bangs and a Russian hat, the eyes a rare Egyptian blue, hard but desperate, that shone as bright as the Mediterranean itself. Gunda Torvik wasn't pretty, but she was, in a completely different way.
"Takk,", she began, "I mean, thank you." Folding the jacket over her arm, the Norwegian woman took a moment o trace her eyes around the apartment, taking everything in -- just in case. One can never be too careful, after all.
Well, that was different from walking. Having only apparated a few times in her life (she may be trained in wizardry, but she was still a small town girl), Gunda luckily remembered to brace her feet when it stopped. Managing not to stagger, though having to blink a few times, the Viking of a woman followed obediently, doing as the fellow blonde instructed and placed the American on the couch rather gently.
Now that the bundle was gone from her arms the stench of fresh puke on her jacket reminded her of that dilemma. It was a relief when Anthony spoke up again, but now reality of the situation became apparent. She had just carried a drunk girl home with her two male friends after being vomited on, and to add insult to injury they had apparated here, to a place she didn't know, in a country she wad dumbfounded by.
Dritt.
Why must she be so gullible for friendship? In the end, Gunda remained calm about it all, removing her jacket with slight disdain at the stench (though it still wasn't as bad as a fresh kill, or, and God forbid she ever have to smell it again, harkal.) Though their skills with a wand were unknown, she still possessed a great physical strength, even against two men. (And this is when Gunda is thankful she has three older siblings, two of which are brothers and one of which is a very, very crazy sister who's scary good with a blade.)
With all this in mind, the coat was removed a little shyly, revealing dark brown cargo pants with deep pockets, which seemed to be filled, and a knife strap more towards the ankle; the hunter's knife, with sheath, wasn't hidden at all. Trailing eyes upward would then see a V-neck sweater, pitch black, that clung to skin. Her frame wasn't thin, but there wasn't exactly fat, either. It was more that her body structure was broad; wide hips, a decent sized chest (even binded there was a bulge), a stomach with actual meat and not just bone.
Gunda Torvik wasn't exactly pretty, or even beautiful, but she was strong, durable, and had a certain elegance that could be compared to a hunter's. Once someone saw the rough accent, the force that stood with purpose, the composure, the strength, maybe, just maybe, then they could see the pretty face too shy to face the world, hidden beneath ash blonde bangs and a Russian hat, the eyes a rare Egyptian blue, hard but desperate, that shone as bright as the Mediterranean itself. Gunda Torvik wasn't pretty, but she was, in a completely different way.
"Takk,", she began, "I mean, thank you." Folding the jacket over her arm, the Norwegian woman took a moment o trace her eyes around the apartment, taking everything in -- just in case. One can never be too careful, after all.