Though all the world raise a glass each eventide as long as humanity endures, insufficient be the honor to those souls of humble sacrifice and insufficient the gratitude that is their due.
Harry And The Shipgirls: Prisoner of Shipping (A HP/KanColle Snippet Collection)
- Thread starter Harry Leferts
- Start date
- Crossover
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Pretty much. As someone stated over on SB, Blood Week was basically Nobledark. The outlook is grim, the enemy is at the gate and looks like the forces are insurmountable... yet you got this story and hundreds like it where despite that, Heroes step forth, men and women willing to brave the oncoming storm in spite of the odds. And these Heroes state that the darkness will not pass them, that they will stand against it and hold the line to their last breaths.
And hold the line, they do.
Jadesteele
Out of my Mind - Back in 5 Minutes
- Location
- half-way between 'Crazy' And 'Eccentric'
i was going to try and say something poinient and meaningful to honour the sacrifices that prevented blood week from being the end of so many, but i really can't think of something good enough other then has been written. For once, i have no words...
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
Dear Madam,
I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle.
I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save.
I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of Freedom.
Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,
A. Lincoln.
---------------
At least in the USA, nothing beats that.
Snippet 103: SisterJeanne
- Location
- Mountains of Appalachia
Pack Dynamics III
Diet Building, Magical Chiyoda
Naomi Miyata rubbed her temples before taking a sip of her tea to chase down the Headache Potion.
If the job she was doing riding herd on Councilor Ito was not hard enough....
She flipped through the JMSDF Civilian Contractor file generated by the Civil Service for one Ibuki Moriko, age 24. Schooling was listed as Iai Joshi Women's Academy in Hakodate.
Which had been destroyed in an Abyssal attack during Blood Week.
Parents were listed as deceased when the Abyssals attacked Hakodate..
Considering that a trio of heavy shells had landed on City Hall then and blown the birth and marriage records to the four corners of Japan, that was awfully convenient.
Family was listed as two sisters, Ibuki Suzume, age 24 -- twins perhaps? -- also a JMSDF contractor and an Ibuki Sachiko, 19. No male relatives. No extended family.
Another sip of tea and a scowl at the file. There was something fishy here, and she knew it.
Especially since more than a few unregistered Yokai and criminals had used the near-obliteration of Hakodate in Blood Week as a convenient way to make false identities.
Another flip to her qualifications. Kyokushin karate, second Dan. No tournaments listed there.
Naomi examined the photograph in the file of a rather battered tomboyish young woman. She might have been cute without the slightly bent nose and a haircut rather than the unruly mane of hair.
Mane....
At least with comparing her to the photograph Hachiko supplied, it was clearly the same girl. That was something. Just not enough something to make a decision.
With that she closed the folder and drained the rest of her teacup. She was not looking forward to the discussion she would have with her father.
---------------------------------
"Daughter, you look troubled." Shigeru Miyata looked across the dinner table at his child.
Naomi spoke slowly. "I spoke to Hachiko today as per our arrangements. The news was... not what I expected."
Shigeru's eyes widened. "Nothing bad, surely!"
Naomi shook her head. "I'm not sure. He has met a girl who he has fallen for. Hard."
Shigeru leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand across his bare scalp. "You do not sound overjoyed, Naomi."
"That is because I am not. This 'Ibuki Moriko' has... well see for yourself. I called in a favor to get access to the unclassified files that Tokyo has for civilian contractors working for the Self-Defense Forces." Naomi handed her copy of the Civil Service files to her father.
Shigeru opened the folder and his eyes bulged at the photograph of Moriko clipped to the first page. "Well I can see a reason for my grandson to be interested in her, or rather two reasons. She is definitely female with those breasts. Even if her face... mmm... She looks like she fought a truck and lost though. And she looks like she's built like an oni."
Naomi nodded. "Yes, which is concerning. Hachiko-san is not the most masculine or assertive soul I know. I can see her dragging him off and the family needing to pay for pelvis surgery to go with the gallon of orange juice and IV drip the next week after she has her way with my nephew. Also," Her voice trailed off and she frowned as Shigeru looked up at her, "there's something wrong with that dossier. I cannot put my finger on it, but I know that there's more to her than the report says."
Shigeru flipped through it and then grunted, "I agree, it's a lot like a politician's campaign speech. All words and no real substance. This is all you have?"
"Yes. Hachiko claimed that she told him that she is a Natural-Born shipgirl, but that data is under lock and key by the Navy, and I can easily see a Christmas Cake like her working at the Naval Base saying that to get his attention. Plus the way he described their meeting, it reads like a particularly trashy shoujou manga scene." Naomi sighed.
"How so?" Shigeru's gaze was sharp.
"Apparently he was waiting tables , another customer bumped him, and his glasses went flying and wound up in her parfait. And then it was love at first sight, and he is badly smitten with her." Naomi shook her head. "Add in the reports of unregistered Kitsune in Yokosuka and..."
Shigeru nodded, "It fits. So, what do we do?"
Naomi sighed, "Gather information about Miss Ibuki now. Of course I can't use official means with the policies in place toward Yokohama and the naval base."
Shigeru gave a toothy smile, "I will call Mitsue Kiho tomorrow then. She took up private investigating after being too good as an Auror in uncovering political... ahh... skeletons. I'm sure that she will be interested in making some Ryō by compiling a 'supplemental file' on this young lady."
He then looked across the table at Naomi. "Keep me informed of what comes of this. And counsel Hachiko to not do anything rash before the family decides how to deal with this situation."
"Yes, Father."
Diet Building, Magical Chiyoda
Naomi Miyata rubbed her temples before taking a sip of her tea to chase down the Headache Potion.
If the job she was doing riding herd on Councilor Ito was not hard enough....
She flipped through the JMSDF Civilian Contractor file generated by the Civil Service for one Ibuki Moriko, age 24. Schooling was listed as Iai Joshi Women's Academy in Hakodate.
Which had been destroyed in an Abyssal attack during Blood Week.
Parents were listed as deceased when the Abyssals attacked Hakodate..
Considering that a trio of heavy shells had landed on City Hall then and blown the birth and marriage records to the four corners of Japan, that was awfully convenient.
Family was listed as two sisters, Ibuki Suzume, age 24 -- twins perhaps? -- also a JMSDF contractor and an Ibuki Sachiko, 19. No male relatives. No extended family.
Another sip of tea and a scowl at the file. There was something fishy here, and she knew it.
Especially since more than a few unregistered Yokai and criminals had used the near-obliteration of Hakodate in Blood Week as a convenient way to make false identities.
Another flip to her qualifications. Kyokushin karate, second Dan. No tournaments listed there.
Naomi examined the photograph in the file of a rather battered tomboyish young woman. She might have been cute without the slightly bent nose and a haircut rather than the unruly mane of hair.
Mane....
At least with comparing her to the photograph Hachiko supplied, it was clearly the same girl. That was something. Just not enough something to make a decision.
With that she closed the folder and drained the rest of her teacup. She was not looking forward to the discussion she would have with her father.
---------------------------------
"Daughter, you look troubled." Shigeru Miyata looked across the dinner table at his child.
Naomi spoke slowly. "I spoke to Hachiko today as per our arrangements. The news was... not what I expected."
Shigeru's eyes widened. "Nothing bad, surely!"
Naomi shook her head. "I'm not sure. He has met a girl who he has fallen for. Hard."
Shigeru leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand across his bare scalp. "You do not sound overjoyed, Naomi."
"That is because I am not. This 'Ibuki Moriko' has... well see for yourself. I called in a favor to get access to the unclassified files that Tokyo has for civilian contractors working for the Self-Defense Forces." Naomi handed her copy of the Civil Service files to her father.
Shigeru opened the folder and his eyes bulged at the photograph of Moriko clipped to the first page. "Well I can see a reason for my grandson to be interested in her, or rather two reasons. She is definitely female with those breasts. Even if her face... mmm... She looks like she fought a truck and lost though. And she looks like she's built like an oni."
Naomi nodded. "Yes, which is concerning. Hachiko-san is not the most masculine or assertive soul I know. I can see her dragging him off and the family needing to pay for pelvis surgery to go with the gallon of orange juice and IV drip the next week after she has her way with my nephew. Also," Her voice trailed off and she frowned as Shigeru looked up at her, "there's something wrong with that dossier. I cannot put my finger on it, but I know that there's more to her than the report says."
Shigeru flipped through it and then grunted, "I agree, it's a lot like a politician's campaign speech. All words and no real substance. This is all you have?"
"Yes. Hachiko claimed that she told him that she is a Natural-Born shipgirl, but that data is under lock and key by the Navy, and I can easily see a Christmas Cake like her working at the Naval Base saying that to get his attention. Plus the way he described their meeting, it reads like a particularly trashy shoujou manga scene." Naomi sighed.
"How so?" Shigeru's gaze was sharp.
"Apparently he was waiting tables , another customer bumped him, and his glasses went flying and wound up in her parfait. And then it was love at first sight, and he is badly smitten with her." Naomi shook her head. "Add in the reports of unregistered Kitsune in Yokosuka and..."
Shigeru nodded, "It fits. So, what do we do?"
Naomi sighed, "Gather information about Miss Ibuki now. Of course I can't use official means with the policies in place toward Yokohama and the naval base."
Shigeru gave a toothy smile, "I will call Mitsue Kiho tomorrow then. She took up private investigating after being too good as an Auror in uncovering political... ahh... skeletons. I'm sure that she will be interested in making some Ryō by compiling a 'supplemental file' on this young lady."
He then looked across the table at Naomi. "Keep me informed of what comes of this. And counsel Hachiko to not do anything rash before the family decides how to deal with this situation."
"Yes, Father."
Snippet 7: K9Thefirst1
So. For the past few months, I've been marinating the idea of showing what OLD was up to during Blood Week - because there's no way she was going to participate in sinking merchant/civilian craft, and while Porta isn't nice, she's not Heartless enough to force her. Harry's most recent snippet gave me a touch of inspiration, of just one more bit of madness that is no doubt lost amongst the chaos and stories of nobledark sacrifices of Blood Week, and will likely stay that way for years unless someone puts two and two together. So I wanted to do something of a proper chapter. but given how I still have a LOT of snippets to work through, I'll just give impressions of what I envision. Hopefully I'll be able to get back and fill these out properly.
Transcript. Excerpt.
Debrief of Korporaal Pierre Longstreet
Concerning the Battle of Antwerp, August 2005
Interviewer: Now, to clarify, you say that your platoon then received reinforcement.
Longstreet: Yes.
I: But, not from the army, nor any NATO force, correct.
Long.: Yes, that's correct. They were...
I: Were...?
Long.: They were ghosts, sir.
I: Indeed. So you said in your Action Report. That they were soldiers from the first world war.
Long.: Yes sir. Gas masks that seemed to- No. They were glowing, it was night. Their eyes were glowing with Hell's own fire. They had rifles like what my Great-Grandfather used, but the bayonets were as long as my arm. And they were black, smelled of... Of brimstone.
I.: Yes. And you called them... Dämontruppen?
Long.: Y-yes. That was, that was Private Vandoorne's name for them. His mother was German you see, and he was our unit's resident historian for World War One, so he came up with the name and it stuck. And... And with him... Gone, it seemed right that, that I use his name for them...
I: And where did these... Demontroopers, come from?
Long.: A demon cruise ship.
I: I beg your pardon?
Long.: It's insane, but that's the best word I can think of. It was only there for a second, I blinked and it was gone. But I was in the steeple of a church, the Lieutenant sent me up there to do recon. I looked to the port to see this giant black ship. Looked like one of those passenger ships a hundred years ago. Four funnels, but the smokestacks were belching blue fire along with the smoke, and in the back of my head I heard some animal growling, like that lion I saw at the zoo when I was a kid. And something in my gut was yelling at me to just get the Hell out of there. Then I blinked, and it was gone. An hour later and the Sea Demons that were about to over run us at our barricade were getting attacked from behind. I heard artillery fire that wasn't ours, and then shells started landing in the teeming horde. But they didn't explode, they just released clouds of gas. Then the troopers started marching from the side-streets with gun fire, then the Dämontruppen just ran up to the enemy and impaled them on their beyonets. And to my dying day, I swear I saw one whack an enemy with his rifle like it was a club just for fun. Then the crowd parted to reveal a platoon of Dämontruppen wielding flamethrowers and... Well, point is, they saved our lives, helped us hold the line until we were given the order to fall back the next morning, at which time they just disappeared.
CCTV Footage recovered Post-Blood Week, CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET!
The footage shows abyssals swarming the Antwerp Port, when one - an as-yet unidentified Abyssal outside of her being a probable Demon-Type, wearing armor not unlike a Medieval Knight - running into the group and killing them one by one. With nothing but her bare hands. Of particular note are two instances: One is her ripping the leg of a Ru-Class off at the hip and beating a Ta-Class to death with it, and in a separate incident reaching under the surface and lifting a Yo-Class submarine by her hair before crushing her skull in her hands.
The Minehunter Primula then opens fire on the group - by now mostly light cruisers and destroyers - indiscriminately with her 12.7mm M2 guns. While the smaller Abyssals winced away from the small gun fire - Intel suggests the 50 cal. bullets were peircing the unarmored areas of their superstructures - the Demon simply turns to the minehunter and runs to her, and breaks through the hull on impact. Seconds later the small ship lurches violently, then the upper deck explodes. For a few frames the Demon is seen holding the sinking minehunter's diesel engine over her head before throwing it at the remaining Abyssals, the engine skips on impact with the Abyssals and flies towards the camera, where the footage cuts out.
Excerpt from "Surviving Blood Week at Sea," part of a series on Blood Week originally published in The Chronicle Herald December 21st, 2005
...while there are many tales such as Ms. Keller's, where newly self-summoned shipgirls stayed with survivors and assisted with military and government officials throughout Blood Week, what struck this reporter the most is this one of a shipgirl that seems to be shy. Jacques Bordeax is a Quebec native, and had been at sea for forty-one years. His ship, the Arcadian Dream, a 65,000 tonne bulk freighter registered in Panama, was on its way in from Japan when Blood Week began.
"We were all very nervous at the time. With the growing number of missing ships through out the past few years, we'd be fools not to be. But then we started getting maydays, until the airwaves were flooded with them."
Over the following days, Arcadian Dream and its crew ran for their lives, hoping to make for a friendly port. New York was closest, but they found a major naval battle between the US and Canadian navies against a large Abyssal force between them and their destination. Not wanting to get in the way or be sunk on accident, the captain turned the freighter north. Boston was tried next, but were told to try further north, as the city had been brutalized and could not handle taking in more shipping. It was then that the Arcadian Dream and a small convoy of merchant ships began to group together on the way to Halifax, the largest city north of Hampton Roads and New York City to survive the days of fighting with only moderate damage. But they almost didn't make it, when two fleets of Abyssal ships closed in on them.
"Mother raised me a good Catholic, but I'm a little ashamed to say that I had lapsed," Jacques Bordeax recounts, "but some sixty hours with no sleep and fearful of ones life makes one reprioritize things. I had just finished my turn at the wheel when those monsters started closing in, and I just went to my knees and started reciting the Hail Mary, as if it hadn't been some thirty years. I think towards the end I stopped bothering with the words and just went to begging for God to send someone to save us. And He did. Suddenly one of those monsters screamed as it was dragged under. Then some... thing burst from the sea and started literally tearing those demons apart. Real brutal business. Like a lioness among gazelle.
"We, that is, all of us among the ships, tried to train our spotlights on our savior as she circled the convoy, but no one could get a good angle on her. It was like she was shy. But she stayed with us all through the night. When she would turn sharply in one direction, we'd turn the other way, because that meant was going after another fleet, waiting for us. Then an hour or two later she'd be right back, leading us north. When the sun rose we finally met with the Cape Roger and Haida. And that was the first time any of us had actually seen a shipgirl. Though she was the second we ever met. The first being our mysterious savior."
The identity of the Jane Doe Shipgirl of the Blood Week Convoy has yet to be determined. Given the darkness and the rain, no one was able to get a clear picture or description of their savior. Though what little could be made out in the dark and compared to other currently serving shipgirls, Navy insiders speculate that on size alone, she had to have been a Capital ship in size. But none can answer why she did not utilize her weapons, as all shipgirls have been shown to use the weapons on their rigging as easily as breathing. Even aircraft carriers have either their planes, or smaller arms. When asked, Haida claims that she did not see any sign of a shipgirl. This is because by the time Haida knew about her, the shipgirl had already left the convoy.
"She must have known that we were in good hands. It was just as the sun was breaking. I couldn't get a good look at her because the sun was directly behind her. But she just stood there on the ocean, watching us, then she turned around and sailed away. And none of us saw her again after that."
Still, Jacques Bordeax and the surviving crew and passengers of the ships of the Blood Week Convoy all wish for the shipgirl that saved their lives, whomever she is, and wherever she makes port, to know that they thank her for saving their lives.
Transcript. Excerpt.
Debrief of Korporaal Pierre Longstreet
Concerning the Battle of Antwerp, August 2005
Interviewer: Now, to clarify, you say that your platoon then received reinforcement.
Longstreet: Yes.
I: But, not from the army, nor any NATO force, correct.
Long.: Yes, that's correct. They were...
I: Were...?
Long.: They were ghosts, sir.
I: Indeed. So you said in your Action Report. That they were soldiers from the first world war.
Long.: Yes sir. Gas masks that seemed to- No. They were glowing, it was night. Their eyes were glowing with Hell's own fire. They had rifles like what my Great-Grandfather used, but the bayonets were as long as my arm. And they were black, smelled of... Of brimstone.
I.: Yes. And you called them... Dämontruppen?
Long.: Y-yes. That was, that was Private Vandoorne's name for them. His mother was German you see, and he was our unit's resident historian for World War One, so he came up with the name and it stuck. And... And with him... Gone, it seemed right that, that I use his name for them...
I: And where did these... Demontroopers, come from?
Long.: A demon cruise ship.
I: I beg your pardon?
Long.: It's insane, but that's the best word I can think of. It was only there for a second, I blinked and it was gone. But I was in the steeple of a church, the Lieutenant sent me up there to do recon. I looked to the port to see this giant black ship. Looked like one of those passenger ships a hundred years ago. Four funnels, but the smokestacks were belching blue fire along with the smoke, and in the back of my head I heard some animal growling, like that lion I saw at the zoo when I was a kid. And something in my gut was yelling at me to just get the Hell out of there. Then I blinked, and it was gone. An hour later and the Sea Demons that were about to over run us at our barricade were getting attacked from behind. I heard artillery fire that wasn't ours, and then shells started landing in the teeming horde. But they didn't explode, they just released clouds of gas. Then the troopers started marching from the side-streets with gun fire, then the Dämontruppen just ran up to the enemy and impaled them on their beyonets. And to my dying day, I swear I saw one whack an enemy with his rifle like it was a club just for fun. Then the crowd parted to reveal a platoon of Dämontruppen wielding flamethrowers and... Well, point is, they saved our lives, helped us hold the line until we were given the order to fall back the next morning, at which time they just disappeared.
------
CCTV Footage recovered Post-Blood Week, CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET!
The footage shows abyssals swarming the Antwerp Port, when one - an as-yet unidentified Abyssal outside of her being a probable Demon-Type, wearing armor not unlike a Medieval Knight - running into the group and killing them one by one. With nothing but her bare hands. Of particular note are two instances: One is her ripping the leg of a Ru-Class off at the hip and beating a Ta-Class to death with it, and in a separate incident reaching under the surface and lifting a Yo-Class submarine by her hair before crushing her skull in her hands.
The Minehunter Primula then opens fire on the group - by now mostly light cruisers and destroyers - indiscriminately with her 12.7mm M2 guns. While the smaller Abyssals winced away from the small gun fire - Intel suggests the 50 cal. bullets were peircing the unarmored areas of their superstructures - the Demon simply turns to the minehunter and runs to her, and breaks through the hull on impact. Seconds later the small ship lurches violently, then the upper deck explodes. For a few frames the Demon is seen holding the sinking minehunter's diesel engine over her head before throwing it at the remaining Abyssals, the engine skips on impact with the Abyssals and flies towards the camera, where the footage cuts out.
------
Excerpt from "Surviving Blood Week at Sea," part of a series on Blood Week originally published in The Chronicle Herald December 21st, 2005
...while there are many tales such as Ms. Keller's, where newly self-summoned shipgirls stayed with survivors and assisted with military and government officials throughout Blood Week, what struck this reporter the most is this one of a shipgirl that seems to be shy. Jacques Bordeax is a Quebec native, and had been at sea for forty-one years. His ship, the Arcadian Dream, a 65,000 tonne bulk freighter registered in Panama, was on its way in from Japan when Blood Week began.
"We were all very nervous at the time. With the growing number of missing ships through out the past few years, we'd be fools not to be. But then we started getting maydays, until the airwaves were flooded with them."
Over the following days, Arcadian Dream and its crew ran for their lives, hoping to make for a friendly port. New York was closest, but they found a major naval battle between the US and Canadian navies against a large Abyssal force between them and their destination. Not wanting to get in the way or be sunk on accident, the captain turned the freighter north. Boston was tried next, but were told to try further north, as the city had been brutalized and could not handle taking in more shipping. It was then that the Arcadian Dream and a small convoy of merchant ships began to group together on the way to Halifax, the largest city north of Hampton Roads and New York City to survive the days of fighting with only moderate damage. But they almost didn't make it, when two fleets of Abyssal ships closed in on them.
"Mother raised me a good Catholic, but I'm a little ashamed to say that I had lapsed," Jacques Bordeax recounts, "but some sixty hours with no sleep and fearful of ones life makes one reprioritize things. I had just finished my turn at the wheel when those monsters started closing in, and I just went to my knees and started reciting the Hail Mary, as if it hadn't been some thirty years. I think towards the end I stopped bothering with the words and just went to begging for God to send someone to save us. And He did. Suddenly one of those monsters screamed as it was dragged under. Then some... thing burst from the sea and started literally tearing those demons apart. Real brutal business. Like a lioness among gazelle.
"We, that is, all of us among the ships, tried to train our spotlights on our savior as she circled the convoy, but no one could get a good angle on her. It was like she was shy. But she stayed with us all through the night. When she would turn sharply in one direction, we'd turn the other way, because that meant was going after another fleet, waiting for us. Then an hour or two later she'd be right back, leading us north. When the sun rose we finally met with the Cape Roger and Haida. And that was the first time any of us had actually seen a shipgirl. Though she was the second we ever met. The first being our mysterious savior."
The identity of the Jane Doe Shipgirl of the Blood Week Convoy has yet to be determined. Given the darkness and the rain, no one was able to get a clear picture or description of their savior. Though what little could be made out in the dark and compared to other currently serving shipgirls, Navy insiders speculate that on size alone, she had to have been a Capital ship in size. But none can answer why she did not utilize her weapons, as all shipgirls have been shown to use the weapons on their rigging as easily as breathing. Even aircraft carriers have either their planes, or smaller arms. When asked, Haida claims that she did not see any sign of a shipgirl. This is because by the time Haida knew about her, the shipgirl had already left the convoy.
"She must have known that we were in good hands. It was just as the sun was breaking. I couldn't get a good look at her because the sun was directly behind her. But she just stood there on the ocean, watching us, then she turned around and sailed away. And none of us saw her again after that."
Still, Jacques Bordeax and the surviving crew and passengers of the ships of the Blood Week Convoy all wish for the shipgirl that saved their lives, whomever she is, and wherever she makes port, to know that they thank her for saving their lives.
Last edited:
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Yeah, that actually works out pretty well. Granted, I can imagine a lot of streets and the like being named after those who died protecting civilians and the like.
Hmm... now this looks like it could turn interesting...
:lolSo, this going to be Miss Mitsue, Hachi and Mogu Mogu visiting a cafe, smiling all the way, trading files and enjoying nice cup of drink of their choice, paying the bills before saying goodbye and part their ways?
Wonderful.
Huh... OLD gets around...
Snippet 114: Harry Leferts
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Sipping her tea, Kathleen Dippet looked out from the balcony of the small café that she was at out onto Portsmouth base. Her eyes searching for those that her many great grandfather's sacrifice had allowed for their existence. After mourning her ancestor, she had taken to keeping an eye on those that he brought about. It was, after all, the least that she could do for him.
Kathleen could even remember dropping them off on the beach close to Fort Gilkicker and sending a message to the Naval Base at Portsmouth. Not that she just left them there, she had stayed until one of the shipgirls had arrived, only disillusioning herself when they got close. Backing up, she had continued to observe as they gathered up the shipgirls laying there. Once she was absolutely certain that things were good, she apparated out.
Her next two months were spent mainly taking care of her many greats grandfather's last will and testament as well as his funeral. That, and grieving for the man who had raised her and comforted her after her parents had been killed in Blood Week. Kathleen was not ashamed to admit that she had cried many days alone in her bedroom. Not the Master Bedroom, not yet, as to her that was still Armando's, but a smaller room in the family estate. When she finally had grieved all that she could, Kathleen had gone back to work at Saint Mungoes best that she could.
But despite that... she still made time to come down to this small café outside of the Naval base to simply watch.
At least once a week, the Medi-witch would sit at the café and, after a few weak spells to not draw attention, would spend an hour or two having tea as she watched. It was not until February that she had seen the first of the shipgirls who were born due to her ancestor's sacrifice heading out onto Portsmouth Harbour. It had lightened her, until then, heavy heart. That what Armando did had meaning. Despite that, she had continued to simply watch and observe as well as listen to the non-magical news. Hearing that the Dutch accepted the never built warships lightened her spirit still more, and she could remember talking to her ancestor's grave about it when she had visited, believing that he was happy wherever he was.
Currently, Kathleen had omniculars up to her eyes as she scanned the waves before nodding at seeing the Malta Sisters out on the waves practicing. 'They're getting much better. Grandfather would be proud, I think.' Pulling the Omniculars away from her eyes, her smile brightened a bit, 'I needed that, especially after...'
For a brief moment, her mood soured a bit at the reminder of what had happened. Mainly, Rita Skeeter publishing one of her lie filled books regarding her grandfather. Something brought to her attention by how one of her fellow Medi-witches had shown her it and was swallowing the lies in it. Not that Kathleen had expected much better from Skeeter, having had the unfortunate luck to have gone to school with the woman in question. The fact that the "Reporter" used the fact that there was not much in the way of defamation laws on the magical side of the world to her advantage.
Granted... Skeeter herself had a lot of skeletons in her closet. And Kathleen had quite a bit of money and connections. Enough to hire many people to put together all those skeletons in her own book. Published under a pseudonym, of course. But enough that she was going to see that woman's life utterly wrecked. Part of Kathleen believed that if her parents were alive, they would have argued to just leave it be. But since they were not, she was not going to leave it lie...
Taking a deep breath, Kathleen let it out, 'No, forget about that woman. She is not worth it.' With a sigh, the witch took a sip of her tea before turning her attention to the slice of cake that was on a plate, 'This is much more deserving of attention then...' Carefully getting a forkful, she put it into her mouth and hummed, 'Yes, much more deserving of attention...'
A moment later, there was the sound of a throat being cleared and Kathleen blinked as a voice with a tinge of an Irish accent spoke up, "Hello there, can I take a seat here?"
Only swallowing, the witch nodded as she turned, "Of course..."
She trailed off though at seeing one of the N3s there with a smile and a cup of tea in one hand while the other had a plate with what looked like a quarter of a cake on it. Red hair cascaded down her back from it's place under a black cap while two green eyes twinkled from beneath the bangs of said hair. Hanging off her shoulders was a black naval jacket while the white shirt strained at her chest while her similarly white skirt was far too short. The twinkle only increased as she noticed Kathleen's open staring before she pulled one of the chairs away from the table, "Thank you..." With a chuckle, the N3 smiled a bit and held out a hand, "Where are my manners... I am HMS St. Patrick, of the Saint Class. Patty to my friends and sisters."
Having snapped out of her surprise and lightly blushing, Kathleen took the offered hand, "And I am Kathleen Dippet."
Moments later, her blush increased as St. Patrick smiled and leaned over to kiss her knuckles, "Charmed to make your acquaintance."
Within her chest, the witch felt her heart pounding in a way that it had not for some time. As some termed it, she was a Chaser for both teams. 'It... has been some time since...' Rapidly shaking that thought off as it was still far too soon after her grandfather's death to think of such things... as much as she might have wanted to otherwise. Instead, Kathleen smiled with a small nod, "Same, Miss Patrick."
Leaning against one hand, St. Patrick hummed a bit and gave her a glance over, "Please, call me Patty, if you must."
Softly giggling a bit, Kathleen shook her head some, "Charmer." Getting a wave of the hand, she sighed a bit before tilting her head to the side. After all, this was a chance to get to know one of the shipgirls her grandfather had brought into existence. And, while she was not exactly looking for such, having nice company was always a plus, "If I may ask... Saint Class?"
Chuckles escaped from the massive Battleship as she took a sip of her tea, "Indeed, myself and my sisters are each named for one of the Patron Saints of England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. St. Patrick, in my case and St. George, St. Andrew, and finally St. David. Hence the name of the four of us as the Saint Class."
Bemused, Kathleen chuckled as she placed her hands under her chin, "Well, I think that they suit you."
That got her a smile from St. Patrick. For the next hour, the two of them chatted though Kathleen did dance around some subjects regarding the magical world, though she admitted to working in the medical field. Eventually, the tea and cake ran out and the N3 leaned back with a small smile, "Nothing quite like enjoying tea with a friendly, and lovely, face."
Despite the blush on her face, Kathleen laughed and made a shooing motion with her hand, "Begone, you."
Humming, the Battleship scratched her chin before sighing, "You know, as a Battleship, I do not do subtle." At seeing the confusion, she continued after a glance around, "I will admit that when I came in here and saw you, I had to come over and talk with you." Slightly smiling, St. Patrick nodded, "Which I have not regretted and would not mind doing so more often."
Now confused, Kathleen frowned, "You... had to come over when you saw me?" At the answering nod, she frowned more, "Why?"
With a deep breath, St. Patrick leaned in, "Because, Kathleen... I recognized you."
Lips dry, the witch licked them, "You... recognized me? From where and... how?"
For several seconds, St. Patrick was quiet before speaking in a soft whisper, "I... remember, when they found us on that beach. When the lid on the container I was in opened, I was somewhat conscious at the time and some of my fairies caught sight of your tearful face." Reaching over, she placed her hand on a now pale Kathleen's, "And the name... Dippet. Are you related to an Armando Dippet? As... as I remember him, though hazy. An old man sailing past as I and my sisters as well as the others went on to this world. Some of my fairies know his name."
Voice soft, nearly inaudible, Kathleen looked up at her with teary eyes, "You... you all remember him?"
Slowly, the Battleship nodded, "We do, and we honour him. Despite the... issues regarding the divide, enough is known that we know what he did to give us the chance to live." Eyes soft, St. Patrick pulled out a cloth and used it to dab at Kathleen's eyes, "What he did, we can only thank him."
Nodding, Kathleen took a shaky breath, "Thank you."
Only smiling, St. Patrick did not say much though she looked out towards the base, "You've been checking up on us, have you not?" From the corner of her eye, she could see Kathleen nod, which made her smile, "I see."
Just running a hand through her hair, Kathleen sighed, "You must think me as some sort of stalker. But I had to know that you were all alright."
Much to her surprised, she felt her hand being gently squeezed by the other woman, "No, I do not. Far from it." When she turned to look at her, the witch found herself blushing from the look from St. Patrick who smiled, "It says much about your character that you are willing to spend the time and effort to make sure that we are treated well."
Lips curling upwards into a smile, Kathleen hummed a bit, "Thank you."
Staring her in the eyes, St. Patrick shook her head, "No, thank you and your grandfather." After a minute, Kathleen nodded but said nothing. Getting up, the Battleship stretched a bit before helping the witch to her feet, "I must thank you for the enjoyable company."
In return, Kathleen shook her head, "Not as much as I have. It... has been too long, I think."
Eyes narrowing slightly, the Battleship hummed before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a piece of paper, "Here, this is my telephone number." Leaning in as Kathleen took it, she smirked, "Perhaps... we can make it so that it will never be nearly as long as it has been?"
Kathleen's eyes widened a touch as she searched the Battleship's own eyes. After a few moments, her expression softened and she took the piece of paper with a small smile, "I... think that might well be quite lovely. As friends at least, for now."
Rather than look disappointed, St. Patrick smiled instead, "Yes, as friends at least."
Both of them walked out of the café next to each other and the witch gave St. Patrick a peck on the cheek. Seeing the blush, Kathleen gave a wink before walking off and the shipgirl heard a crack when the witch walked into an alleyway. Smiling herself, the N3 began to walk back to the base whistling.
Kathleen could even remember dropping them off on the beach close to Fort Gilkicker and sending a message to the Naval Base at Portsmouth. Not that she just left them there, she had stayed until one of the shipgirls had arrived, only disillusioning herself when they got close. Backing up, she had continued to observe as they gathered up the shipgirls laying there. Once she was absolutely certain that things were good, she apparated out.
Her next two months were spent mainly taking care of her many greats grandfather's last will and testament as well as his funeral. That, and grieving for the man who had raised her and comforted her after her parents had been killed in Blood Week. Kathleen was not ashamed to admit that she had cried many days alone in her bedroom. Not the Master Bedroom, not yet, as to her that was still Armando's, but a smaller room in the family estate. When she finally had grieved all that she could, Kathleen had gone back to work at Saint Mungoes best that she could.
But despite that... she still made time to come down to this small café outside of the Naval base to simply watch.
At least once a week, the Medi-witch would sit at the café and, after a few weak spells to not draw attention, would spend an hour or two having tea as she watched. It was not until February that she had seen the first of the shipgirls who were born due to her ancestor's sacrifice heading out onto Portsmouth Harbour. It had lightened her, until then, heavy heart. That what Armando did had meaning. Despite that, she had continued to simply watch and observe as well as listen to the non-magical news. Hearing that the Dutch accepted the never built warships lightened her spirit still more, and she could remember talking to her ancestor's grave about it when she had visited, believing that he was happy wherever he was.
Currently, Kathleen had omniculars up to her eyes as she scanned the waves before nodding at seeing the Malta Sisters out on the waves practicing. 'They're getting much better. Grandfather would be proud, I think.' Pulling the Omniculars away from her eyes, her smile brightened a bit, 'I needed that, especially after...'
For a brief moment, her mood soured a bit at the reminder of what had happened. Mainly, Rita Skeeter publishing one of her lie filled books regarding her grandfather. Something brought to her attention by how one of her fellow Medi-witches had shown her it and was swallowing the lies in it. Not that Kathleen had expected much better from Skeeter, having had the unfortunate luck to have gone to school with the woman in question. The fact that the "Reporter" used the fact that there was not much in the way of defamation laws on the magical side of the world to her advantage.
Granted... Skeeter herself had a lot of skeletons in her closet. And Kathleen had quite a bit of money and connections. Enough to hire many people to put together all those skeletons in her own book. Published under a pseudonym, of course. But enough that she was going to see that woman's life utterly wrecked. Part of Kathleen believed that if her parents were alive, they would have argued to just leave it be. But since they were not, she was not going to leave it lie...
Taking a deep breath, Kathleen let it out, 'No, forget about that woman. She is not worth it.' With a sigh, the witch took a sip of her tea before turning her attention to the slice of cake that was on a plate, 'This is much more deserving of attention then...' Carefully getting a forkful, she put it into her mouth and hummed, 'Yes, much more deserving of attention...'
A moment later, there was the sound of a throat being cleared and Kathleen blinked as a voice with a tinge of an Irish accent spoke up, "Hello there, can I take a seat here?"
Only swallowing, the witch nodded as she turned, "Of course..."
She trailed off though at seeing one of the N3s there with a smile and a cup of tea in one hand while the other had a plate with what looked like a quarter of a cake on it. Red hair cascaded down her back from it's place under a black cap while two green eyes twinkled from beneath the bangs of said hair. Hanging off her shoulders was a black naval jacket while the white shirt strained at her chest while her similarly white skirt was far too short. The twinkle only increased as she noticed Kathleen's open staring before she pulled one of the chairs away from the table, "Thank you..." With a chuckle, the N3 smiled a bit and held out a hand, "Where are my manners... I am HMS St. Patrick, of the Saint Class. Patty to my friends and sisters."
Having snapped out of her surprise and lightly blushing, Kathleen took the offered hand, "And I am Kathleen Dippet."
Moments later, her blush increased as St. Patrick smiled and leaned over to kiss her knuckles, "Charmed to make your acquaintance."
Within her chest, the witch felt her heart pounding in a way that it had not for some time. As some termed it, she was a Chaser for both teams. 'It... has been some time since...' Rapidly shaking that thought off as it was still far too soon after her grandfather's death to think of such things... as much as she might have wanted to otherwise. Instead, Kathleen smiled with a small nod, "Same, Miss Patrick."
Leaning against one hand, St. Patrick hummed a bit and gave her a glance over, "Please, call me Patty, if you must."
Softly giggling a bit, Kathleen shook her head some, "Charmer." Getting a wave of the hand, she sighed a bit before tilting her head to the side. After all, this was a chance to get to know one of the shipgirls her grandfather had brought into existence. And, while she was not exactly looking for such, having nice company was always a plus, "If I may ask... Saint Class?"
Chuckles escaped from the massive Battleship as she took a sip of her tea, "Indeed, myself and my sisters are each named for one of the Patron Saints of England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. St. Patrick, in my case and St. George, St. Andrew, and finally St. David. Hence the name of the four of us as the Saint Class."
Bemused, Kathleen chuckled as she placed her hands under her chin, "Well, I think that they suit you."
That got her a smile from St. Patrick. For the next hour, the two of them chatted though Kathleen did dance around some subjects regarding the magical world, though she admitted to working in the medical field. Eventually, the tea and cake ran out and the N3 leaned back with a small smile, "Nothing quite like enjoying tea with a friendly, and lovely, face."
Despite the blush on her face, Kathleen laughed and made a shooing motion with her hand, "Begone, you."
Humming, the Battleship scratched her chin before sighing, "You know, as a Battleship, I do not do subtle." At seeing the confusion, she continued after a glance around, "I will admit that when I came in here and saw you, I had to come over and talk with you." Slightly smiling, St. Patrick nodded, "Which I have not regretted and would not mind doing so more often."
Now confused, Kathleen frowned, "You... had to come over when you saw me?" At the answering nod, she frowned more, "Why?"
With a deep breath, St. Patrick leaned in, "Because, Kathleen... I recognized you."
Lips dry, the witch licked them, "You... recognized me? From where and... how?"
For several seconds, St. Patrick was quiet before speaking in a soft whisper, "I... remember, when they found us on that beach. When the lid on the container I was in opened, I was somewhat conscious at the time and some of my fairies caught sight of your tearful face." Reaching over, she placed her hand on a now pale Kathleen's, "And the name... Dippet. Are you related to an Armando Dippet? As... as I remember him, though hazy. An old man sailing past as I and my sisters as well as the others went on to this world. Some of my fairies know his name."
Voice soft, nearly inaudible, Kathleen looked up at her with teary eyes, "You... you all remember him?"
Slowly, the Battleship nodded, "We do, and we honour him. Despite the... issues regarding the divide, enough is known that we know what he did to give us the chance to live." Eyes soft, St. Patrick pulled out a cloth and used it to dab at Kathleen's eyes, "What he did, we can only thank him."
Nodding, Kathleen took a shaky breath, "Thank you."
Only smiling, St. Patrick did not say much though she looked out towards the base, "You've been checking up on us, have you not?" From the corner of her eye, she could see Kathleen nod, which made her smile, "I see."
Just running a hand through her hair, Kathleen sighed, "You must think me as some sort of stalker. But I had to know that you were all alright."
Much to her surprised, she felt her hand being gently squeezed by the other woman, "No, I do not. Far from it." When she turned to look at her, the witch found herself blushing from the look from St. Patrick who smiled, "It says much about your character that you are willing to spend the time and effort to make sure that we are treated well."
Lips curling upwards into a smile, Kathleen hummed a bit, "Thank you."
Staring her in the eyes, St. Patrick shook her head, "No, thank you and your grandfather." After a minute, Kathleen nodded but said nothing. Getting up, the Battleship stretched a bit before helping the witch to her feet, "I must thank you for the enjoyable company."
In return, Kathleen shook her head, "Not as much as I have. It... has been too long, I think."
Eyes narrowing slightly, the Battleship hummed before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a piece of paper, "Here, this is my telephone number." Leaning in as Kathleen took it, she smirked, "Perhaps... we can make it so that it will never be nearly as long as it has been?"
Kathleen's eyes widened a touch as she searched the Battleship's own eyes. After a few moments, her expression softened and she took the piece of paper with a small smile, "I... think that might well be quite lovely. As friends at least, for now."
Rather than look disappointed, St. Patrick smiled instead, "Yes, as friends at least."
Both of them walked out of the café next to each other and the witch gave St. Patrick a peck on the cheek. Seeing the blush, Kathleen gave a wink before walking off and the shipgirl heard a crack when the witch walked into an alleyway. Smiling herself, the N3 began to walk back to the base whistling.
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ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
Suffice to say there was a face that automatically popped into my head when reading about Patty; she's just as kick-ass as an N3 would've been.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Well, they would be more doing RN things really...
Hmm? Which one?
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
I was wondering when we'd see the girls Dippet Summoned. And pairing Kathleen with one is a nice touch.
I gotta disagree. The 'romantic' aspect weakens the theme of the piece, which is the shipgirls' recognition and gratitude to Armando and Kathleen. Warping the gesture of thanks into a seduction cheapens it.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Except, and here is the thing... there wasn't really anything seductive about it and there was a lot of thanks. What there was there was some attraction on the side of Patrick (if I wanted to go seductive, she would have stated that when she was half awake and saw Kathleen there, she would have thought that she was seeing an angel). The most you got is Patrick giving her a number with the promise of more meet ups.
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
I wouldn't have minded if it took a bit of time for the two to hook up, but not trying to do so immediately. Comes across as bad taste.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Uh... *Looks and frowns* Is... that the way that it comes across? Because how else are they going to talk to one another if they can't contact one another to set up meetings and the like...? And the "Far too long" bit can simply involve her chatting with someone in a friendly manner?
Pretty sure that it was the talk about how "it had been so long" that did the most damage. It came across as "it's been so long since I've been in a relationship." Then there was Paddy kissing her knuckles (typically done by a guy looking to woo a girl he's into) and generally acting suave and like a lady-killer.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
*Bangs head on table* The hand kissing thing as a romantic gesture is more recent and was up until the 1900s something that a gentleman might do when meeting a lady. As for the "It had been so long"... that was meant to have more than one meaning as it was both a relationship and for just having a friendly talk.
The hand kissing originated in feudal rituals at the latest with kissing the ring, and was a way to show your allegiance and/or regard for another person. It was very much a gender neutral thing.
As courtly ritual set itself in place and women became a protected, elevated group in the nobility for a variety of reasons, it became common for men seeking to ingratiate themselves to a woman they were not necessarily required to act kindly to.
As courtly ritual set itself in place and women became a protected, elevated group in the nobility for a variety of reasons, it became common for men seeking to ingratiate themselves to a woman they were not necessarily required to act kindly to.
beorn91
Ours mal léché
- Location
- France
Truly? I expected that they would love each other on the deck of a boat/ship.
You should have mentioned that. Because that fragment of the full notion, coupled with you deliberately going out of your way to mention that the witch was bisexual ("chaser for both teams") made it so that there was no 'obvious' interpretation other than "These two are going to be a couple."
And again, the Knuckle Kiss - in all instances I have seen in cartoons and such that I have seen - have been framed as romantic or potentially romantic from a guy to a girl, or vice-versa if played for comedy. Never Girl-girl with friendly overtones. So, when mixed with the above, it came across as "Paddy is making her interest in a relationship with this witch 100% clear."
And this is from a guy whose Ship Preferences are Heterosexual, and Homosexuality is not considered until the couple on-screen kisses or outloud says 'we are in a relationship.' So if I got that impression, it should not shock you if folks on SV and likely SB - where Yuri seems to be the default preference for the vast majority of members - see them as being the latest ship to sail from the HatSG dockyards.
*shrug* Sorry Harry, but you asked how we could see those interactions in that light, and I gave my analysis. It might be wise to consider deliberately and unambiguously torpedoing this ship in a snippet in the near future before it gains to much popularity.
- Location
- Tennessee, USA
When I first read it, it came across in a more *offering of friendship* manner. Though, it can also easily be interpreted as having minor romantic overtones, but I only saw them as such after they were pointed out.
ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
(Don't hate me for this.) Becky Lynch. Flaming red hair, from Ireland, and is definitely a fighter.
I personally thought Patty's actions were cute...Kathleen lost her great-many-times grandfather and now she might have someone new in her life. I'm rooting for them.
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
I don't think the chapter needs to be torched/torpedoed. Just a bit of editing where both are serendipitously giving the other the once & twice over, but nothing overtly stated. Just enough teasingly unspoken hints that can be expanded upon later. Easiest way is to make the bits be spoken inside Katherine's head, where she definitely wouldn't mind the attention, but that she's grateful that St. Patrick waited to say anything. Then a perspective switch to St. Patrick where she's thinking the same things, but with a 'its too soon, lets not be unwise & hasty' jibe to it.
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