In which camping is no longer a luxury nor a privilege.

[nemo]

Monica Stryker thought camping was fun! Scratch that, Monica though her version of camping was fun. She wasn't a fan of the sticky, humid heat or the gnats that flew around her big hair. Nor was she huge on the idea that she had to scavenge for her food like some of the commoner that she watched on the streets. Rather, she adored sitting in the wilderness from the comfort of her large lavish carriage, decked out with everything and anything that very explicitly takes away every charming bit that makes camping, well, camping.

However, her father felt it fit that she experienced something lower than the pedestal he placed her on as it might be a fun and reinvigorating experience for her! It wasn't at all that he had stuff to do in another island that he couldn't bring her to, with a small added promise that he would fund her next trip to an island of her choice should she even attempt to try this out. "Don't worry, sugar plum, you'll even have the best guard, you'll see!" He said, not too subtly pushing her towards her lavish room to get ready/

So, regrettably, she found herself packed and on the island of Nuovo Romano with brand new camping gear and clothes that are a bit too nice for the woodsy area that she signed herself to suffer in.

With an impatient pout, her arms crossed, and her delicate feet tapping against the dirt, she waited for her escort to arrive. Whether they were late or she was late- she didn't really care. Waiting a second too long is a big no no for a Stryker, apparently. "Ugh, its SOOOO stuffy out here!!"

[Skaarf]

Thyra had gotten lost. It wasn't wilderness survival checks. That was old hat to someone who had grown up in a barbarian clan. The problem was that she was supposed to be a sorta body guard for some rich dude's little girl. That was also fine. What wasn't fine, was that apparently half the rich folks this side of the North Blue all had the same idea. Thyra had checked 5 other camp sites already, and those were just the people who actually had crowns. Perhaps an enterprising soul could set up a glamping park and rake in the dough.

Because of all the false positives, she was mildly irritated when she stomped into the small clearing. An unconscious deer was slumped over her shoulder, her weapons at her side. At least the complaints from the other individual proved they were the right demographic. In Thyra's opinion, the air was pretty fresh out here, though a tad musty. Maybe that's what the other girl was referring to.

"Oi. I'm late cuz every rich kid in the northern hemisphere was sent here. Please tell me YOU are Monica." Thyra scowled - not directed at Monica and more as a general thing.

Thyra looked the lady up and down, wondering how long the clothing would stay clean. She would have been pessimistic about the clothing's chances before, but Bianca and Thomas had changer her perception of such matters.

"And if you aren't Monica, I don't suppose you've seen her?"

Hopefully, Monica's pops never caught wind of the confusion. So many rich kids on one island meant something was up, but Thyra wasn't paid to know what.

[nemo]

Was that a mosquito? Aw, hell. The more time she stood here, the more she actually dreaded the idea if being sweaty out in public and suffering for 'fun'. She missed her fancy little lattes. 

She leaned against her camping gear and checked out her nails as she waited for the hired company to show, and lazily raised her gaze to find the source of the twigs snapping and the irritated stomping. Was...was that a deer? Monica took a cautious step back, and eyed the stacked woman. "H-hey! Now you stop right there- you're getting too close!" she warned. 

Though her fear was short lived and quickly replaced by her own annoyance. "Shame it took you this long! I'm one of a kind! Don't compare me to all those other weasels." She scoffed and lifted her chin as shown to her by the rich and haughty that raised her. "They follow me here, not the other way around, got that?"

"But it doesn't matter! I'm sick of standing here, you are uh..." she checks the writing on her palm, "Thyra right? I hope you know how to start a fire? And...uh. Why bring that with you? That isn't dinner is it?" she gestures to the deer. There were too many things about this lady that concerned her- would her father really hire someone like this to protect the light of his life? His darling angel daughter? He wasn't stupid, she knew, but...

[Skaarf]

"Don't worry, you're all very unique. Weasels is a, umm, apt term, yes." She gently draped the unconscious deer over a log as she struggled to be diplomatic. Language wasn't her strong suit.

"Yep, that's me - Thyra. This sword is 'Sharpie'. And this here is lunch unless we find something better!" She patted the deer affectionately on the head. It stirred - starting to wake, and was swiftly clobbered on the noggin with Thyra's scabbard.

"Wait, you aren't thinking this meal is cute now, are ya? It's gonna last us a good part of our vacation.... Say, how long am I here to keep ya company anyway?" Thyra was slowly learning about herself. One interesting quirk was her habit of accepting jobs without learning important details such as the duration or likely threats. It was a miracle she was still alive, in fact.

"Ooh, I know. We can play some kid's games to pass the time! My clan used to play 'Catch the spear'! And 'Pin the Stabby in the Walrus'!"