If she were a shipwreck her hull would lay proudly amongst large cliffs along the Norwegian coast. Cold waves and hard stone fail to break her even after years of battery. The ship's figurehead is a woman reaching with outstretched arms cradled amongst the boulders. She is proudly defiant high above the waves, unaffected and without remorse for finding herself here. She's clad in crimson and bleeds her ship's passion on the cruel stone and into the punishing sea. She cares not and smiles with a rebellious and compassionate spirit. The ships mighty hull lets water wash through, as if as a challenge to the Atlantic. Her mast rises high into the sky at crooked, confident angles and lay upright and askew against the harsh cliffs. It clings to the ship, twisted, but strong and unwilling to let her go. Sails still drape along her boom, capturing wind and protecting her from rain,and all other things it can put itself in front of. While tattered, they are sturdy and on her best days would take her anywhere she wanted or on her worst would shelter her from harm.
She's a ship that would not sink. She would rather rest above the waves than to bow to their will. She would not heed to the oceans depths and her crew, now gone, would tell stories of how she saved their lives - more than once. They would talk of how she would navigate storms and windless weeks without stop and without fail. How she wouldn't break when everything around her was. Her captain would tell that she was invincible. Those who built the fine vessel would say she's made of better wood and stronger sails than other ships....they would say she is better than the rest of them...because she was, and is.