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"Mein Gepäck..entschuldigen" exclaimed the fiery-haired woman. Her frantic eyes hopelessly searched the crowded streets for her misplaced luggage. She clutched her remaining parcel closely and felt the small coin purse strapped within the smothering layers of her garments. The cold, flat surfaces of the schillings eased her with an uncertain sense of security. It didn't matter if they had any worth here, at least Charlotta had something.


Her lack of English proved to be very impractical as she asked her way around the crowd. A few scratchy English words collaborated to form broken sentences, but they did not seem to make things better. A deckhand busied himself as the agitated woman approached him. His attention strayed momentarily as he sized her up.


A meek, youthful European woman with a shock of red hair stood before him. Her vivid eyes wavered, deflecting the tiring burden and fatigue of her recent travels. A galore of bleak garments obscured her true form as she stood before him. Not a proper way for a lady to appear, he pondered.


Charlotta had never been given the change or opportunity to present herself in a ladylike manner. Her one luxury in life was her long, red hair. However, her parents disapproved of her flaunting it and had her restrict it in a tight knot. "Wie das Blut von Christ" her mother would say, like the blood of Christ. The occasional loose tendril would unfurl at Charlotta's neck as she worked tirelessly at scrubbing the floors or windows. Blood and dark pigment would steal secretively to her cheeks as she blushed in solitude. On more scandalous nights, she permitted herself to drape her lustrous mane from the upstairs window. These excursions were abruptly terminated when a nighttime passerby witnessed her from the street below.


The days before her departure, Charlotta romantically envisioned of her first day of liberation. She saw herself dauntlessly boarding the ship to New Darwin, donned in luxurious skirts and a proper corset. She had never possessed one of those contraptions but observed them on numerous occasions in catalogues and on flyers. Now, these very images were stowed away in her luggage.. if only she could locate it.


In broken English, Charlotta explained her situation. If only she wasn't so nervous, she would have been able to explain herself. The deckhand stood back from her expressive hand gestures and bold words. He dismissed her.


At last, Charlotta found herself in the middle of the seas side district. Not long ago had she departed the vessel that carried her to Queen's Reign, the city in which she would begin her new life. Her lower lip quivered and a tear tripped over the barrier of her lower eyelid.. this wasn't as perfect as she had imagined.

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On July 8th, 2008 08:26 am (UTC), corvenus commented:
*wondering down through the dock at the end of his shift at the police station making his way back home as was his custom he stopped and watched each of the boats as it arrived for anybody that might be a problem to him. His gaze lingered on the Charlotta for a second wondering what colour her hair really was but then shrugging slightly his gaze moved on.*

((No idea if your even still playing this Rp anymore, i've been away for a while.))
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