As many of her compatriots in the Black Sails crew had learned, it was nearly impossible to catch Karin in her quarters...or even in the general vicinity of the pirate’s lair for that matter. Although she had agreed to help the guild in whatever manner she could, she had taken it as a fairly loose one at that; essentially to only be taken advantage of in the most dire of circumstances, or whenever one could get her to put aside her perennial wanderlust for a period of time long enough to actually perform some form of work around the camp (whenever she was around, that is). It was not her intention to shirk her duties, but it could easily be interpreted as such if an outside observer did not know her all too well; she was simply being herself. The nomadism that defined her childhood and her entire life up until that point would likely be impossible to erase from her personality--as a child, she had learned that staying sedentary meant you starved in the far north. Although she knew that there was plenty to eat in these southern lands, she had been conditioned to always been on the move, to always be looking for somewhere else.
That being said, the huntress was not dressed in the clothes of a woodswoman or a ranger; rather, her chosen attire was something far less utilitarian. Wearing a white tunic with matching trousers and boots, it was not as though she was entirely dressed to blend in with the rest of Fiore; but, it was a hint that, at least for today, she would not be having any adventures….not any involving going to the wilderness, anyways. Her latest adventure was somewhere that put her out of her element: Hargeon Town. She could navigate and survive the wilderness on her own just fine, but getting accustomed to the urban jungle was something that she had put off for quite some time. Her genuine critiques of city life were often sharp and came from the perspective of a wandering soul such as herself, but the dazzling lights and endless consumption of goods and services simultaneously left her bewildered and intrigued. The luxury that was blatantly on display was something she had never seen; women regularly wearing jewelry and makeup, men dressed with timepieces on their wrists and in casual clothing--all of it suggested a lifestyle that was well-to-do, even among the less advantaged.
The entire reason the huntress was here was for one thing and one thing only: she needed her passport renewed. The process for doing so was a bit more complicated for her than it was for most, as she was a Fioran national and not a citizen. Her lack of citizenship owed itself to the fact that she was born in a territory that wasn't governed by any nation--gaining entry into the country had been difficult, but maintaining documentation, such as a passport, was easier in comparison. She hummed a folk song of her homeland to herself as she walked into the city office; after a brief explanation to the receptionist about her reasons for being there--and the particulars of her situation--she was told to wait in the lobby while they went to see if the official she had an appointment with was in. After a moment, the receptionist came back and indicated that the official was in, and that he was waiting.
With a brief thanks, the woman got up and walked down the hall and into the office. The nameplate on the desk simply read: Miyamoto; the man himself was of a smaller frame, although this did not surprise her as she had talked with him on numerous occasions.
"Good to see you again, Ms. Sørensen," he said, gesturing for her to sit down, "I assume all is well?"
"It is," she replied. She took a seat in one of the leather chairs and added, "Thank you for asking."
The conversation that ensued was kept to mostly business; paperwork was pulled out and verified, and her old passport was taken up and looked through--an eyebrow was raised at just how many stamps and checks were listed in its pages--and some more paperwork was pulled out for the huntress to sign and date. After another twenty minutes, and a new picture being taken, she walked out of the office with the promise that the new booklet and card would be mailed to her within four to five business days.
That being said, the huntress was not dressed in the clothes of a woodswoman or a ranger; rather, her chosen attire was something far less utilitarian. Wearing a white tunic with matching trousers and boots, it was not as though she was entirely dressed to blend in with the rest of Fiore; but, it was a hint that, at least for today, she would not be having any adventures….not any involving going to the wilderness, anyways. Her latest adventure was somewhere that put her out of her element: Hargeon Town. She could navigate and survive the wilderness on her own just fine, but getting accustomed to the urban jungle was something that she had put off for quite some time. Her genuine critiques of city life were often sharp and came from the perspective of a wandering soul such as herself, but the dazzling lights and endless consumption of goods and services simultaneously left her bewildered and intrigued. The luxury that was blatantly on display was something she had never seen; women regularly wearing jewelry and makeup, men dressed with timepieces on their wrists and in casual clothing--all of it suggested a lifestyle that was well-to-do, even among the less advantaged.
The entire reason the huntress was here was for one thing and one thing only: she needed her passport renewed. The process for doing so was a bit more complicated for her than it was for most, as she was a Fioran national and not a citizen. Her lack of citizenship owed itself to the fact that she was born in a territory that wasn't governed by any nation--gaining entry into the country had been difficult, but maintaining documentation, such as a passport, was easier in comparison. She hummed a folk song of her homeland to herself as she walked into the city office; after a brief explanation to the receptionist about her reasons for being there--and the particulars of her situation--she was told to wait in the lobby while they went to see if the official she had an appointment with was in. After a moment, the receptionist came back and indicated that the official was in, and that he was waiting.
With a brief thanks, the woman got up and walked down the hall and into the office. The nameplate on the desk simply read: Miyamoto; the man himself was of a smaller frame, although this did not surprise her as she had talked with him on numerous occasions.
"Good to see you again, Ms. Sørensen," he said, gesturing for her to sit down, "I assume all is well?"
"It is," she replied. She took a seat in one of the leather chairs and added, "Thank you for asking."
The conversation that ensued was kept to mostly business; paperwork was pulled out and verified, and her old passport was taken up and looked through--an eyebrow was raised at just how many stamps and checks were listed in its pages--and some more paperwork was pulled out for the huntress to sign and date. After another twenty minutes, and a new picture being taken, she walked out of the office with the promise that the new booklet and card would be mailed to her within four to five business days.
