stormaktstiden | > Thorfinn

"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.

To be fair, she has seriously considered getting married before, even though at that point she was still legally too young. But it would have been a good way of getting an additional pair of hands for the farm at no additional cost, so...

"...Thorfinn." She frowns as she tries to remember why that sounds familiar. It's not that frequent a name, really, but... well, there are a few, sure. Maybe someone on TV? It feels awfully familiar...

"No last name?"

There was a deatheater in Harry Potter named Thorfinn. It was always possible. It was a common name in the old sagas. Which the boy knew well enough from killing time on the ship. Internet wasn't a thing he really had access to, but sometimes he would be tossed books.

"Yes Thorfinn, and no you can't call me Thor." That's been a question he's been asked one to many times since arriving in the US. "No, there is no last name." He was at least glad the girl knew nothing of him. It made life easier for him no one knowing where he had come from. At least the teachers were that kind. He stops walking, looking up at one of the paintings A ghost ship aside from arguing with her it was the first thing to catch his eye.

"Have you heard heard of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald?"

"...Probably."

Old Leif, the local weird old fairytale uncle TM, loved telling all kinds of adventure ship stories, so if this is one, she's probably heard it. For some reason he liked coming over to their house. The only reason that she could see back then was that he seemed to have a momentary calming effect on her later younger brother, if only in as much as the brat would stay relatively in one place while a story was ongoing...

Wait. Wasn't that kid called Thorfinn? Well, that explains why the name sounded familiar, at least. She hasn't thought about him in ages, has had no reason - the dead are dead, and one's strength is better spent thinking about things that will actually be of matter for the living - and her mother after a bit had fallen very quiet on her father and brother, too.

Are all Thorfinns brats? Maybe. Must come with the name, even if her brother and this kid don't really have anything else in common.

"What's up with it?"

She'll listen with only half an ear, searching for the picture detailed on sheet in the meanwhile.

"It was an American Freighter ship, it sank in 1975. She was one of the biggest ships in her time." He explained almost unimpassioned, yet something in the way he looked at the painting said he actually gave a damn about the story. "A winter storm hit early and took the ship down killing the whole crew of 29." He spoke almost like he knew a lot more of the tale but didn't want to bore her. He didn't have many healthy hobbies but ship wreaks were an obsession. They had been even before surviving one. After Old man Leif told him about the Titanic when he was young he had always had an interest, as a small boy he'd try to drown his toy ships in the tub before tracking water through the house to outrun his mother and sister since he never wanted to dress after he was out of the tub.

"This picture just reminds me of that story that's all. They say Lake Superior is haunted from it. At least that is what I was told as a boy." He could remember Leif wiggling his fingers trying to be spooky while he called the man a liar. He shook his head to try and forget the old man, he was likely dead to. "I'd like if the shop has one to get a print of it." Yes a ship wreak for his wall. It would be perfect. Most teenage boys had half naked women on their walls, not him.

"Your taste is deranged."

She lowers the sheet, though, and raises her eyes to look over at him.

"Stories of ships that didn't sink are way more interesting. Of discoveries, and dangerous journeys, and world records, and meeting new cultures and fighting great battles and making riches." Her eyes light up at the very last bit. As a little girl, her dream occupation had been becoming a viking. She'd been rather disappointed when she had realized that while the stories were amazing, it wasn't actually an option these days. She'd had brief aspirations to be a whale hunter, too, until she learned that modern whale hunters did a rather boring job compared to those in the stories.

"Shipwrecks just mean lots of dead people that can't come home anymore and make it harder for their families to keep the farm running, and cause a lot of financial trouble and medical issues because people get sick from grief." Rather idiotically, in her opinion. Just another reason to not linger on the sadness over the loss of people.

Edited 2016-09-20 16:28 (UTC)

"Yeah? And what do you like then, girl?"

He was minorly insulted and it showed in his face until she explained on. "You mean like the saga's of old? King Ragnar and his adventures, or Egil?" Oh he knew the stories of vikings. He used to pretend to be a viking when he would chill around the ship as long as no one caught him. In his head that was completely what he was. Smuggling wasn't so very different, there was enough brawls and races to get to international waters. It was as close as he would ever get himself. "Riches aren't exactly easy to come by these days, money is marked, and traceable." He spoke matter of factly, something he's heard Askeladd bitch about, problems 'they didn't have in the old days' Drugs, valuables, art and contraband were all worth more than actual robbery.

He looked up at her after she finished an he had spoke his peace, just a quiet second. "You lost someone in a ship wreak didn't you, girl?" He'd keep calling her girl as long as he didn't know her name. Plus, he felt he shouldn't have to ask./

"And that's why they're stories and nothing else. They don't got anything to do with reality." Stories are for children. She's long grown past them (or so she claims).

"...You know a lot about that, though." She narrows her eyes at him. What the fuck have you been up to, brat. "What were your parents, pirates?"

She shrugs at the question. "It happens where I'm from, coastal town with a lot of fishing and all that. My father and my brother stayed out at sea. That was years ago, though, we've figured out how to run the farm without them by now."

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