Alfhild turned back to face the chef as he began to speak. Her smile was wide as she listened to Kole's ever-characteristic accent. She found his voice to be pleasantly unique, enriching the conversation with a sort of special flavour that others lacked. Maybe it was his instinct as a cook, to excite the senses in not just taste, but hearing as well. Her own voice was a low rumble, carrying across rooms and even ships. It had gotten her in trouble on many occasions, having never completely perfected the art of whispering, which required the dulcet tones of a voice to come to light. Nowadays it came in handy, being a captain. The louder the voice, the more authority was present. She had always been proud of the skills that came with being the owner of such a booming voice. Rarely did she have to get up from her own workings when she was in need of something, instead blasting forth the name of any one of her crew mates to assist her in the deed. Alfhild rarely had to whisper nowadays, Isa's hand signing having become a more important component in the ship than she had first expected. The communication was not only useful when talking to the deaf, but also for exchanging messages in secret in front of a possible hostile, or even to express orders across distances that her voice certainly could reach, but was of a more disturbing property than the silent motion of the hands. Most on the crew were well-versed in the communicative movements, some having a better grasp on it than others. Alfhild was, thankfully, one of the more gifted. her signs were grand and forceful with an abrasive sharpness, replicating her spoken voice. She wondered briefly if Kole's eccentricness of voice imprinted itself on his own signing. It seemed a shame if Isa were to miss out on the amusement.<br/><br/>Alfhild cheered inwardly at Kole's mention of nässelsoppa. The cook certainly knew of her fondness for the dish, as did the rest of the crew. Its gamey, green taste opening a world of wonders for the blonde she-warrior. Her eyes lit up as Kole poured the mixture into her bowl, stopping just short of the rim. He knew her well enough to not deny her of a single drop. "Aye, that's understandable. As they say, t-" she was halted by an unearthly noise to her back. Alfhild turned at a speed rare for women of her build, finding Isa, the causer of the rumbling, behind her. It was remarkable that the girl was able to sneak up on Alfhild, a well-trained warrior, and remarkable still that she could produce such a loud sound. Alfhild found it irritating that she hadn't noticed Isa in the first place. She would have to implement some sort of training program to re-hone her senses. The past weeks had certainly left her dull.<br/><br/>"Great Baldr!" Alfhild exclaimed aloud, signing as well for Isa's benefit, "I think there might be a dragon making its home in your stomach!" Her voice held a cheerful amusement and mock surprise, further steering the comedic spin of her words. Facial expressions were a key component of signing, making up for the lack of tone in many body movements. Isa had the ability to read lips, but Alfhild felt it made her more comfortable when it was accompanied by signing. Alfhild never wished for a member of her crew to feel out of place or unwanted; that was why they had all been so carefully selected. They were to work together not just as crewmates, but as friends, and kin. Naturally with the number of people on the ship there was always some division between people, but Ragna served as an excellent peacemaker, and those with natural dislike for each other often simply avoided the other person's company. Simple, in most cases. Alfhild was also avoidant of the possibility of romantic partnerships to develop on ship, but that too, was inevitable. Alfhild herself had never considered the possibilities of becoming betrothed, or being in a serious relationship, for that matter. In her younger years she had been frisky and flighty when it came to men, coming at the task with a warrior's mind. That yearning had faded over the years, dimmed by her dislike of the idea of having children. To become pregnant was to become weak, and being weak was foolish. At least, that was the way she saw it.<br/><br/>Alfhild began signing conversationally with Isa, but was interrupted yet again, this time by Ragna. Her voice set easily in contrast to Kole's, being thoughtful and studious, with the clarity of someone gifted with speech. The captain's face was filled with comical resignment at being cut off mid-conversation once again, but she understood that this was the life she had accepted, to be constantly sought for and consulted. This didn't develop a large ego within herself, but instead bred a determined spirit, intent on serving all those that she could.<br/><br/>Alfhild was glad that Ragna had come up now as she began to speak, carrying important information that was better served quickly. The mention of their morning sparring session reminded Alfhild of the smarting red welt on her thigh. When Ragna got hold, you were going down, regardless of skill. "Well, I'm certainly glad you've settled it," Alfhild mused, "I have no doubt that it wasn't your intention to anger them. We'll just have to avoid them for now." Alfhild kept herself from sighing out loud, however much she wished to expel her frustration. As captain, Alfhild wanted to keep her crew members at ease. A good leader was meant to be stoic and not cause undue panic, but if the malfunctioning engine was in need of some sort of special part, this meant they would have to get a lower quality part, or buy second-hand. Even finding other parts creators was difficult, as the corenians had the market so nicely cornered in Parra Savva. No one built machinery as well as the corenians, and this meant that large section of trade was cut off to them. She didn't blame Ragna; Alfhild understood that languages were complex, and marveled at the bright-haired woman's skill to master the intricacies of such strange and difficult speech patterns. Alfhild was sure she could work something out. Hopefully.<br/><br/>A light punch to shoulder caused Alfhild to turn again. The sight of her best friend's and second-in-command's face raised the state of her mood immensely. She didn't forget her worries, but the gaiety of being with such a close comrade was certainly a light in the dark.<br/><br/>"Heil og sæl!" Alfhild grinned, throwing an arm over Kri's shoulders. His comment brought a dark cloud over the captain's head. It was true that she did long for battle, but the miracle of peace was infinitely more precious than battle to her. Blasphemous for someone so devout to the gods to think. War came with the heavy loss of life. If death could be eliminated from fighting.... Alfhild almost laughed aloud, thinking of her times on the Village, wooden training sword in hand. She and her companions would run about the galley and halls, laughing and whooping. There were no good or bad side, just the joy of the sword. Those times were gone. These thoughts didn't reach Alfhild's face, which presented itself as calm and content. "Aye," she replied, "a true shame." After he had received his food, she directed them with a slight motion to a table, near the almost comatose Fiske and the much more bright-eyed Ber. Finally, Alfhild could begin her meal. All of the interruptions had brought frustration to her stomach. She thanked the gods quickly before taking a hearty slurp of the nässelsoppa. Incredible, as usual. Alfhild took a few more bites of the morning's fare before turning to Kri. She had taken note of his bursting entrance, and was intrigued by what had brought him into such physical extravagance. "What puts you in such energetic spirits today?" she asked, leaning back casually in her chair and grabbing an apricot from her plate. She watched with a side eye as she took several quick bites. Alfhild was well-known on the ship for being a ravenous eater, who didn't entirely mind speaking with her mouth full.<br/><br/>Before Kri could reply, Alfhild's flighty ears heard Fiske's askance. She turned, about to include them in her and Kri's conversation, before she noticed the markings all across his face. A bubble of mirth rose inside her; how ridiculous he looked! The red pressed markings over the side of his face stood in such contrast to his normal pallor that he looked like a striped uugbek. "What happened to your face?!" she hooted in mirth, barely containing booming laughter. She knew the day was good if it could begin with such amusement. "Not hurt, surely, but you make my ribs ache!"<br/><br/>This was the crew Alfhild knew and loved so very dearly.