The English language came to Geneva quite easily, as she already knew a bit coming into Europe. After about four months, she had finished her studies in England, and she quickly made her way through other countries as well. She had found that in order to get into other countries, it was much easier to stow away on a merchant ship and escape when it made port. She supposed that made her a pirate of sorts, but she wasn't quite sure yet. She hadn't thought about that option very heavily as of late.

At the end of about seven years, Geneva had mastered English, French, Spanish, and German, along with their respective dialects. She had been able to make it into libraries to study as well, and in all the books about language that she read, there were always references to a couple of ancient languages called Latin and Greek. Since they seemed to have such high importance, she began to read books about them as well, along with her regular studies of other languages. Her studies in Latin and Greek greatly improved her understanding of all the other languages she was taking, including conjugation and grammatical aspects. Latin and Greek were the origin languages of almost all European languages, and once she had those two under her belt, any other European language she came across was at least partially understandable, simply because she could guess the meanings of words based upon their Latin or Greek root word. It also made literature much easier to read, because she could predict the grammatical structure of sentences. Along with Latin and Greek, many other European languages shared similarities to one another, like Spanish and Italian. Once she came across Italian, she could use both Spanish and the two base languages to decipher what each word and phrase meant, with a little bit of help from studying in the library. With Latin and Greek, languages came to her even more easily than ever before, and she had confidence enough to predict the meaning of words and sentences without necessarily being fluent in the language.

Besides studying languages during her stay in Europe, she found it would likely be beneficial to learn how to fight as well, so she studied swordsmanship. During her cultural studies, she had noted that most prominent men were not only capable of speaking multiple languages, but also of handling a sword to high degree of skill. Naturally, since swordplay was the business of the upper class male population, Geneva had no way of affording any such tutoring. However, there were multiple ways to learn how to fight, and she found that the easiest and most effective way to learn was to throw herself into a fight. She regularly attended underground sword fighting matches and shady taverns, just to get a chance to fight people with skill and learn from them. She was not the only one who did this; many other young men went to these matches to learn just as she did, simply because they didn't have the time or money for lessons. It worked just as well, and it was likely more realistic than the formal fencing lessons of the day. She did this in every country she stayed in, and got quite good at it rather early on. Each time she entered a match, she exited with more knowledge. Some of the matches she won, and some she lost, but she always learned something different from them, and all the while, the world was never aware that the quiet, redheaded man who liked to spar in back alleyways was actually a woman.

Geneva's disguise was almost flawless. She had learned to sew as a young child in Ireland, and during her stay in England, she made her dress into loose fitting trousers and a tunic. She made herself a nice looking jacket, and found a black hat to pull it all together. All she had to do was tie her hair up in a low ponytail, and she closely resembled a man.

It was a normal thing for men to have longer hair, regardless of status, so hers was not a hindrance to her disguise. She was on the taller side, but still about average for a woman, and definitely not out of the question for a man. Her eyes were a bright green, and they flashed gold when she imprinted on someone. Her clothes were loose, which allowed her curves to remain well hidden. Her hips were a bit wider than her shoulders, but she was healthy, and during the time she spent in Europe, she had become quite built. Her bosom was on the smaller side, which was especially nice for concealing her gender, and her hair came down to the middle of her back. It was naturally on the straight side, but it could be a little wavy when it was dampened or unkempt.

It had taken Geneva a little while to get used to the fact that she had red hair. Before she met with Tia Dalma, Geneva's hair had been brown. Tia had told her that her striking new features had come because she had been endowed with such strong magical abilities. The Obeah sorceress had given Geneva abilities even beyond hypnosis, such as the ability to heal herself. Since she couldn't die, Geneva was able to heal herself at will, which she hadn't had to use yet, but she figured that she might need to sooner or later if she was to get involved in any real combat. Tia Dalma had also heightened Geneva's senses, making her into something supernatural in nature. This accounted for how easily she was able to learn languages and swordsmanship, and how sensitive she was in sparring situations with other men.

Just as Tia Dalma had mentioned, she had added a part of her nature to Geneva, and thus given her the name Dalma as well. So, just as Tia Dalma knew the sea, so did Geneva. It was quite remarkable, she noted, how fast she was able to learn her way around. She had a good sense of direction as a young girl to begin with, but now, it seemed that her mental capabilities were beyond possible. Never had she imagined that she would be able to learn five languages fluently in less than seven years, on top of learning to handle a sword well. She found it to be incredibly remarkable how fast she grew and learned, and she was very pleased with what power Tia Dalma had given her.

Because she could learn it so quickly, Geneva took a liking to sword fighting early on. She built up a lot of strength and skill over the years, and learned many different styles of fighting. During her stay in Spain, she was given an old rapier for winning a duel, which was a long, thin sword with an extravagant hilt. Her rapier was a bit more modest on the hilt, but she loved it nonetheless. She took it with her wherever she went, and she was quite pleased to have it when she decided to leave Europe.

Since she had learned as much as she could there, Geneva decided it was time to expand her horizons and travel around more. The only problem was, she wasn't sure how she was going to get from one place to another, and on top of that, she wasn't sure where she wanted to go next. There were so many places she could possibly go.

But she simply couldn't resist when she heard about the "savages of the Barbary Coast." When she was in a Portuguese tavern one night, she overheard two men speaking about the slave trade. These slaves were being described as uncivilized, and completely inhuman, property of the white man. She was so curious that she went to the library the next day and pulled out every book she could find on Africa. She learned all that she could about the place, and when the books ran out of knowledge, she decided that she would go there herself. She wanted to see exactly what or who was out there.

Since merchant ships left for Africa in participation with the slave trade, Geneva was able to get aboard a ship using her male disguise. Although she planned to be a stowaway, she quickly realized that this idea was quite unrealistic, and she was noticed immediately. She was mistaken for a crew member, and thus, she was put to work. This wasn't all too bad though, because if she was to learn the trades of men, she should learn how to live at sea as well. Working a ship was a difficult task, she found. There were so many parts, and everything was so complicated that Geneva was stuck with minor tasks such as swabbing the deck when the crew realized that she wasn't of much use.

She also wasn't too pleased with the rationing aboard the ship. The only food they had was hardtack, which wasn't all that appetizing in the least, but she supposed that it would be something she'd have to get used to if she was to ever learn to survive on a ship.

The voyage took a very long time. She had been on ships for long periods of time before, but usually they had been passenger ships. This one was not nearly as nice, although she could appreciate the view that she got of the sea. She really enjoyed being on a ship for some reason. She wasn't sure if it was the wind on her face or the smell of saltwater as the waves lapped against the ship's hull, but there was altogether something about it.

When the African coast first appeared on the horizon, Geneva couldn't stop looking at it, almost like she was searching for someone on the shore. It looked so much different than how she imagined, even though she had read all those books about it, and it was nothing like Ireland or Europe in the slightest. When the crew readied to lower a row boat into the water to head ashore, she was the first one to get in, even though the crew chuckled at her eagerness, commenting jokingly about the youngster who'd seemingly never laid eyes on the African coast.

When they got to shore, there was a makeshift building surrounded by guards whose skins were a deep brown. They wore clothes that were like Europeans, but much more tattered. The rest of the crew beckoned her to hurry up and head for the barracoon, evidently what the building before her was called. The word "barracoon" sounded like the word "barrack," which implied that it was a type of bunkhouse for people.

She entered the building after a couple of men, and she realized this barracoon was not nearly as nice as a bunkhouse. It was very plain, almost makeshift, and had many beds filled with half naked people. Some of them were entirely naked. But the thing she couldn't quite understand was why they were here. They looked like people, not property as the men in the tavern had said. They didn't look like savages. They just looked like humans.

She slipped out of view from the other crew members as they inspected the people in the front of the barracoon. She headed toward the back, behind the rows of beds and people, their eyes silently on her. She could only imagine they looked at her out of curiosity. She was their opposite: extremely fair skinned.

She stopped at the very back corner of the barracoon and looked down at a woman. She was breast-feeding a small child, who laid humbly in the crook of her arm. Geneva lifted her hat some and knelt down so that she could speak to the woman.

"Hello," she whispered in Portuguese, and the woman looked up at her, confusion written on her face.

"You don't speak my language," Geneva said softly, and the woman only looked at her without the ability to understand. The only reason Geneva stopped by her was because she was a mother. This mother should not become a slave. That ship was bad enough for Geneva to stay on, and these people weren't about to be treated any better.

"Come," Geneva said, although it was futile to speak to the woman, for she could not understand. The female's eyes became wild with fear. She misunderstood, and opened her mouth to make a struggle. She thought she was being chosen to be sold.

"Hush," Geneva said, holding a hand over the woman's mouth to stifle her scream of protest. Speaking in Portuguese was not going to get her anywhere. Hand signals would have to do for now.

Geneva put a finger up to her lips, and the woman watched her. The understanding slowly crept onto her face as Geneva explained that she was not going to take her away. She revealed her gender to the woman, and did her best to calm her down.

The woman appeared to understand. That would do for now. They just needed to get out of there somehow. Geneva stood from the woman and looked around. There was a back door to the barracoon a few yards away, but she could see the shadow of a guard. That wouldn't be too hard to evade. It was the only way they were going to make it out of there.

Geneva slowly made her way over to the door and caught the attention of the guard.

"What is the language of these people?" Geneva asked him. "They do not understand me."

"Yoruba speak them," replied the guard in broken Portuguese. Geneva had never heard of Yoruba before.

"How do I say, 'come with me' in Yoruba?" Geneva asked. The man thought for a moment. He wasn't suspicious at all.

"Telemi kalo," said the man, and Geneva nodded. She lifted her hat up some, so that the man could look her in the eye, and they flashed a bright golden. She felt the connection adhere, and walked back to where the woman was, having made a successful imprint. This was working out well.

"Telemi kalo," she said to the woman, and her eyes lit up instantly.

"S'ole so ede yoruba?" she exclaimed softly, and Geneva couldn't understand. She hadn't heard enough of the language, and it didn't sound like it had any roots in Latin or Greek. This would just be one she'd have to learn.

"Telemi kalo," Geneva repeated softly, grabbing the woman's hand and beckoning her to follow. The woman stood and began to come after her until she saw the guard's shadow at the door.

"Kantan kantan leyi!" the woman said in a frightened tone. "Be'ko! Be'ko!"

Geneva turned back to face her and put a finger to her lips. She didn't know what to say.

"Telemi kalo," she repeated again, very slowly. The woman was frightened. She was afraid of the guard. Geneva motioned at the woman, and then at her own heart. She hoped that made some kind of sense. Then, Geneva turned back to the door and stood up very confidently.

"I have bought this woman, correct?" she asked the man. The guard, under hypnosis, responded affirmatively.

"Tell her to trust me in Yoruba," Geneva said to the man, and he thought for a moment, translating in his head. As soon as he had told her, she looked at Geneva with confusion, and Geneva could only nod. The language barrier would be difficult to overcome, but she could do it.

"What is her name?" Geneva asked the guard, and the guard asked the woman.

"Abeni," the woman said, looking at Geneva to answer.

"Geneva," she replied, pointing to herself. Abeni nodded in understanding. Geneva grabbed her hand and pulled her out the back door of the barracoon and past all of the other guards, who did not bother to stop them because according to the guard at the back, the woman called Abeni and her little baby had been purchased by the man with red hair.