stormaktstiden | > Thorfinn

> Thorfinn

Babysitting.

Seriously.

Because that's what this is - being paired with a much younger student for this field trip's tasks. They said that their skills will be a good match, but she's pretty sure that that is bullshit. Really, who pairs her with a child?

She sits with her friends as long as she can and only finds him once they arrived at the museum and are sent out to ...do whatever their tasks say. She hasn't looked yet at the sheet that she was given upon leaving the bus and instead looks around to find the kid that was indicated to her ...there.

It takes her only a few steps to be close enough to have a conversation. "Let's go." No hello, no introductions. The faster they do this, the sooner she can go back to doing actually useful stuff.

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It was bullshit, the whole situation. This crap wasn't going to make him stronger, it wouldn't help him beat the old man. Everything he heard about this school was completely not what it was. 'They will help with your powers.' More like turn him into a damned hippie.

He had been sitting on a small brick wall when the blonde girl spoke at him, he tipped his head up glaring through his shaggy bangs at her. "Don't tell me what to do." He snapped back her direction. No one tells him what to do. And yet, he still pushed off the wall. glaring at her like his eyes alone would be enough to strike her down.

"And why would I not? You're younger than me."

Clearly that means that she's the one who will be giving the directions here. Besides, most people are terribly ineffective so it would be folly to let them lead. As evidenced by this field trip. There would have been so many useful things to do, like the biology class one that they did last year. But no.

A museum, and an art museum at that.

"Because I said don't fucking tell me what to do." He replied with just as much attitude in that young danish accent. "No one tells me what to do, much less a bossy girl." He lifted his head high and shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket heading for the door of the museum. Even if he didn't know what the task was, maybe there was something interesting inside. Something worth the bus ride out. Though, in truth he just wanted to get back to the school, so he shrugged as he neared the door. "Let's get this shit over with. What's our assignment, girl?" She hadn't asked his name, so he wouldn't ask hers.

"One," she grabs him by the scruff of his neck, fingers punching up the fabric of his shirt, and picks him up until his feet are about ten centimetres off the ground, "it's boss, not bossy. And for now I'm the boss because you are a kid and I know what we have to do for this task to be done so we can go and do something else. Two, it's ma'am, not girl."

Oh HELL no. If Thorfinn hated one thing above all the other things he hated, it was being touched. So when his feet dangled off the ground he growled like he was some kind of wild animal. Shifting his feet to kick at her as hard as he could. "Get your fucking hands off me, bitch!" Oh, oh no.

....And now the kid is kicking and screaming. Great.

Ignoring how people start to stop and stare at them, she holds him out as far as she can with an outstretched arm and pushes the sheet into her bag with the other to bring it up and bat at his feet should they get close to actually hitting her.

"You should not use words like that."

Thorfinn tried to kick more, but being as small as he was it was no easy task. Taking down grown guards was easier than wrenching himself out of the girls' grasp. He really should have looked into what her powers are. Or even her name.

"Put me the fuck down, or I swear upon Odin. You wont like what I do." And here he was supposed to at least pretend to be good. "I'll say what I want, I'm a free man!" Of...twelve, looking ten at best.

"You're a kid, and thus by definition only free until your legal guardians disagree."

She'd have said parents a year ago, but she's met too many people in the Institute that for one reason or the other don't have their parents as legal guardians anymore that she amends that part.

"Or social services. Which ends up being the same. So you're neither free nor a man. Far from it, really, looking at you. What are you, ten?"

Just because he's kicking at her she'll leave him up there some longer. Threats will do the opposite of making her compliant, unless they can clearly be backed up and actually get her or beloved ones in serious trouble. Neither is the case here.

"...Hadn't pegged you as an Ásatruú believer."

"And that sure as fuck isn't you!"

He really hated being up in the air part of he ponder slipping free of his brown hoodie but, his shirt would likely get tangled up in it and he didn't need this girl seeing his scars and the questions these damn people have every time they say his scars.

So, he hung there glaring like a wet cat, without the water. "Yeah, I know how it works can we just get this shit over I have shit to do." He just wanted to be on the ground and he was tired of people whispering. Never draw attention to yourself, it was a damned rule.

"Yeah, we'll I am." he made a face though, she didn't say Thor fan, she didn't say Heathen... She said Ásatruú believer. Where was her accent from. He's been gone from home so long he cant remember how Icelanders sound.

Well, that's a surprise. She abruptly drops him, but only to grab his shoulder and steer him into the building, away from the whispers and out of the sun.

America is too hot. Her mother sometimes comments on Iceland being too cold, even in the summer, but her mother is sick... perhaps she can bring her to America one day. Or back to where she grew up, somewhere near the Danish-German border, or so Ylva understands. Neither of her parents ever really talk about that place.

"No, I'm just your elder for the moment, so I'm calling the shots until we're done."

...Ásatrú, and he knows the word. Speaks with an accent, too. She's gotten a bit better at recognizing those since she got her, along with her own English getting better. Or well, more fluent and natural and American. Hm.

She's heard the accent before... from her mother, speaking in English to one of the foreigners who interviewed to work at the farm.

"You're Danish."

He hated the heat of America so much. Though he refused to take his hoodie off for anyone or anything even if teachers complained. Speaking of, he pulled the hood up as he moved along with her. Though he didn't want to look like he was following her lead so he moved a little slower.

"Fine, whatever, just know your not the boss of me." He glared up from under the hood and veil of blonde hair in his face. He stopped walking, the glare he gave her before was nothing compared to the look he was giving her now.

"I AM not fucking Danish." He HATED that he sounded like that bastard, he hated that EVERYONE assumed. At sea it was safer to just let people think what they would, but he was proud of the home he had not seen in so long. "I'm Icelandic." His English had come along out of necessity, he had not wanted to learn it, but it made the jobs easier. He started to stomp past her then, even if he didn't know where he was heading he was walking fists balled grumbling about 'not being a damned Dane.' He really wanted to go stab Askeladd.

"Well, you sound Danish.

And you're not going to the Cafeteria before we're done." Which is where he seems to be walking towards, if she interprets his direction correctly, so she reaches out for his shoulder to grab it again and stop him.

She doesn't care what this kid thinks of her as, but she won't let him make this take longer than strictly necessary.

"Well fuck you, I'm not." he griped. And started to halt his direction. Though food sounded good. He'd about kill for something good.

When her hand landed on his shoulder he turned his head to look at her. Glaring STILL. "Let. Go." He repeated like a broken record. "Tell me the damn job already so we can get this over with." He spoke feeling his temper rise. He hated being treated like a kid. Plus, he was hungry now just hearing there was food near by.

"Well," she will turn him around by the shoulder until he faces what she assumes is the right direction and then let go - and not a minute before it if he struggles against being turned around, "we need to find a picture in sections B, D, M and R and then describe it with the tools lined out on this sheet. B's closest from here, so we'll start there."

"...And if you're not Danish, why do you sound Danish." Her mother tends to think of herself as an Icelander too, but she has enough years under her belt to be able to have been two things in her life in succession.

And struggle he wanted to, but if they got into a brawl in the museum that would end bad. Plus, he didn't care for hurting woman. He had a mother and sister out there somewhere. Men he doesn't mind gutting, girl's they're mostly safe.

"This is some bullshit." He grumbled. The looked up to the letters on the walls. "B's this way." The very direction she had pointed him and he started walking. "Because I fucking sound Danish. It doesn't mean I am." He spoke in utter annoyance. He had refused to tell anyone anything about himself besides what the Authorities had informed when he was enrolled. He was prepared to stab a telepath if he caught one in his head.

And despite all this, as he walked he spoke a tidbit. "I left home when I was five." Left home, it wasn't exactly a lie.

"You don't just 'leave home' when you're five." Her words are factual and brisk, but there's curiosity and a hint of softness in them that wasn't there before.

She won't stop him walking about as long as he's heading into the correct direction. If he does, she'll just have to move him again.

"...Or do you mean your parents moved with you and you have issues with Denmark?"

He noticed it but, figured it was just the way girls are. He knows so little about teh fairer sex having been on a ship with to many grown men since then. "Well I did." He rolled his eyes some and kept walking in the right direction.

At least he was good at taking directions and navigation.

"My parent's are dead." He spoke matter o'factly. "It's not of your damn business okay." he spoke before taking a breath and stopping, turning around since he can't just let good enough go. "The fucker that took me was Danish." Did he consider himself kidnapped? No, but that word had been tossed around a lot by the authorities. Askeladd took him out of the water, kept him from swimming down after Thors' body. "Can we drop this now? I don't want to spill out my life to a woman I dont even know, for fucks sake."

Sounds to her like a kid that is going through early puberty and lashing out hard against the foster or adoptive parent that raised him after his parents died.

"You're hitting puberty pretty early."

...Is that dropping it?

"Fuck you." Again, right to the foul mouth. "I already have. I'm fucking twelve." Granted, he really hadn't yet, not much anyway. He was a late bloomer, but he'd deny it to forever. He was on the tail end of to many 'little boy' jokes from the shipmates. He wasn't going to take it from some girl.

He balled his fists again and stomped towards the B wing.

Some girl who is tall and broad enough that if she was someone else might be really bothered by her own size. Luckily she doesn't see why a woman should be small and petite, that's just not conductive to getting things done. As she is she can reach everywhere and carry everything that is needed. Sounds good enough to her. And if she ever gets married she wouldn't want someone who has such priorities anyway.

"...You don't look like it. Just act like it. Rebelling against your foster parents and all that." Her own rebellious phase was cut very short when her father vanished out at sea, but she's heard enough to know about that one.

"Don't act like you know shit. You don't, you don't know the first thing about me." That was rebelling. Though he was good at it the idea of Askeladd being his 'foster parent' just drove an ice-pick hard into his heart. He was gritting his teeth no longer watching where he was walking.

....Okay she'll let him walk into that pillar if he really doesn't reroute his steps in time.

Or perhaps she shouldn't. Give her a moment to decide.

"Well, I now know that you are twelve." She shrugs and starts to dig for the sheet of paper in her bag again to look at the name of the first work of art that they're supposed to study.

And he will. Maybe. He was pretty good at noticing his surroundings when he wasn't pissed off. Though he was pissed so he just barely dodged it looking up to glare at the pillar like it was his mortal enemy.

"And that's all you need to know, girl."

"It's information that I didn't need to know. Your name would be practical, though."

She looks at the signs and paintings on the walls and then studies the paper before looking back up, and back down on the paper... Here.

She'll start walking without announcing where she's going this time.

Thorfinn rolled his eyes. "You..." He started to say something then just let it go. He noticed she was walking so, he just started following rather than asking.

"Thorfinn." He spoke after a second. "My name is Thorfinn." He didn't care about giving his first name, it was giving his father's name that would get in him trouble. He didn't want to be sent home. How could he face his family if they were still alive without having avenged his father? He did worry that maybe his mother had passed, he could recall her health was never great but his sister... she must be running the farm and married by now. He never was good with ages.

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