With No Language But A Cry

[Hydrokinesis]

Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy

---

Jean Bart stared back at Neustrashimy, before leaning in closely. "What? What do you mean 'both'? Are you saying that I'm some sort of... confused human who reincarnated as me- as Jean Bart?"

Click to shrink...

With a small sigh, accepting that she'd been caught, she went to explain. "No, you're a ship's spirit represented as a human, probably. This may be better with graphics, Hull." The American destroyer nods before pulling a pad of paper from within her cropped suit jacket top. "Graphics explain everything better." Neustrashimy notes as if that explains everything while Hull gets to doodling on a page.

After a few moments Hull hands her pad of paper over to Neustrashimy who then turns it around so Jean Bart can see what's drawn. There appears to be a whole load of stick figures that each have an arrow above their heads pointing at a cloud. That cloud then has an arrow pointing towards a wiggly ghost figure with a ponytail. There's then another arrow that points at a stereotypical magic wand and finally one more arrow that points at big stick figure with a ponytail on crude water. It's no work of art but Neustrashimy hopes it'll help things along.

"We start here." Neustrashimy points at the group of stick figures. "These are your crew, the people that served aboard you during your time afloat. Over time their collective belief in you gathered together and that was... Hmm. No, it's not... Perhaps... Well, it works." She moves her finger to point at the cloud. "That collective belief just grew and grew over time, building in strength. It gathered history, it gathered knowledge, it gathered weight. And then it became something more." Now her finger moves over to the wiggly ghost figure with a ponytail. "And that 'something more' was you. You're the ship and a person, a spirit who is the embodiment of both things, but you're still not in reality. That is where things get silly." Her finger now points to the magic wand. "You and the rest of us were given form through magic, somehow. We were incarnated and made real but we maintained our abilities, so in the end..." Her finger moves towards the final thing. "We are incarnated spirits with our abilities as ships in human form. We are people, but we are still ships. I could be wrong... But that feels right to me." Neustrashimy finally finishes speaking and holds that pad of paper loosely in her hands just in case Jean wants to take it from her.

 

[~Celeste~]

HSwMS Halland and HSwMS Småland
Status: A time for reflection (and refreshments)

---

"I think that some of the new summons are struggling with being human." I say idly, sending a subtle glance at Halland. "If you have any advice for them, it'd be greatly appreciated."

Click to shrink...

Jean Bart stared back at Neustrashimy, before leaning in closely. "What? What do you mean 'both'? Are you saying that I'm some sort of... confused human who reincarnated as me- as Jean Bart?"

Click to shrink...

The two Swedish destroyers share a meaningful glance: while they are indeed still adjusting to their newfound humanity, just as the French battleship appears to be, from what they've gathered on the way here it seems they might -somehow- actually be the exception.

With a small sigh, accepting that she'd been caught, she went to explain. "No, you're a ship's spirit represented as a human, probably. This may be better with graphics, Hull." The American destroyer nods before pulling a pad of paper from within her cropped suit jacket top. "Graphics explain everything better." Neustrashimy notes as if that explains everything while Hull gets to doodling on a page.

Click to shrink...

Småland follows Neustrashimy's detailed explanation with a fascinated expression, nodding along the way. "You know," she says at the end, "that makes a lot of sense. I do kinda have the memories of my crew, and even some from my museum staff and yet I'm not just the sum of their minds... it fits. Which is kind impressive considering you were summoned at the same time as us. Hmm... is that because of your...", the pigtailed destroyer looks around, "unique perspective? Actually, how does that fit into all this?"

 

[Wobulator]

Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy

---

With a small sigh, accepting that she'd been caught, she went to explain. "No, you're a ship's spirit represented as a human, probably. This may be better with graphics, Hull." The American destroyer nods before pulling a pad of paper from within her cropped suit jacket top. "Graphics explain everything better." Neustrashimy notes as if that explains everything while Hull gets to doodling on a page.

After a few moments Hull hands her pad of paper over to Neustrashimy who then turns it around so Jean Bart can see what's drawn. There appears to be a whole load of stick figures that each have an arrow above their heads pointing at a cloud. That cloud then has an arrow pointing towards a wiggly ghost figure with a ponytail. There's then another arrow that points at a stereotypical magic wand and finally one more arrow that points at big stick figure with a ponytail on crude water. It's no work of art but Neustrashimy hopes it'll help things along.

"We start here." Neustrashimy points at the group of stick figures. "These are your crew, the people that served aboard you during your time afloat. Over time their collective belief in you gathered together and that was... Hmm. No, it's not... Perhaps... Well, it works." She moves her finger to point at the cloud. "That collective belief just grew and grew over time, building in strength. It gathered history, it gathered knowledge, it gathered weight. And then it became something more." Now her finger moves over to the wiggly ghost figure with a ponytail. "And that 'something more' was you. You're the ship and a person, a spirit who is the embodiment of both things, but you're still not in reality. That is where things get silly." Her finger now points to the magic wand. "You and the rest of us were given form through magic, somehow. We were incarnated and made real but we maintained our abilities, so in the end..." Her finger moves towards the final thing. "We are incarnated spirits with our abilities as ships in human form. We are people, but we are still ships. I could be wrong... But that feels right to me." Neustrashimy finally finishes speaking and holds that pad of paper loosely in her hands just in case Jean wants to take it from her.

Click to shrink...

"So I'm the... ghost of Jean Bart? I... well, that's better than being a confused human, at least. Where does the magic come in, though? I would have said magic was impossible before, but then I woke up like this with the French coast on fire, so... I'm not sure what to think about any of this. What were those- Abyssals, I think the name was? Abyssals doing here, then? How did they shove a battleship and an aircraft carrier together like that?"

I dropped my head into my hands with confusion at all of this. I... hadn't put a whole lot of thought into this while we were fighting or running, but none of this made any sense. At all. I knew how to fight, not deal with magic.

 

[CV12Hornet]

"I think that some of the new summons are struggling with being human." I say idly, sending a subtle glance at Halland. "If you have any advice for them, it'd be greatly appreciated."

With that, I lean against the nearest wall, folding my arms over my chest and closing my eyes, content to wait peacefully. Until my brain decided to once more, interject that I was far from home, and I had lost my hat. I wasn't entirely sure why I was so upset about losing my straw hat, but I was still bloody upset about it. Growling, I restrained the urge to punch the nearby, conveniently placed wall, simply taking to pacing back and forth, muttering profanities under my breath, questioning the origins, birth, and various other things the being that brought me here had.

Click to shrink...

"Yes, I can see that..." Jeanne says uncertainly.

"Well, we'll see what they come up with," Wright decides, eyeing Des Moines' pacing. "Are you- ha, obviously you aren't alright. Is there anything I could do to help with... whatever's bothering you?"

"Now that we have some time... what the hell are we- am I? I remember my service, I remember being broken up, and now I'm eighty years in the future with the body of a porn star and apparently a past self that somehow died valiantly? I know how to walk, I know how to talk, but... what's going on? Am I Jean Bart? Am I some confused human from one of those comic books?"

Click to shrink...

Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy

When Jean Bart starts to question herself the trio of step-sisters look among themselves before both Friesland and Hull nod towards Neustrashimy. As her partners get comfortable on some chairs Neustrashimy remains standing for a moment before cocking an eyebrow at Friesland and Hull. "Privet! Should I tell her that they are both? Now come on, I'm sure if I told her that she's a superhero with ship-like abilities, it wouldn't be good." Neustrashimy rolls her eyes when Hull nods but stays silent. "There is the 'reincarnated spirit' approach too, I guess..." As her voice trails off Neustrashimy realizes she's been speaking out loud and blushes while looking somewhere other than at Jean Bart.

Click to shrink...

Jean Bart stared back at Neustrashimy, before leaning in closely. "What? What do you mean 'both'? Are you saying that I'm some sort of... confused human who reincarnated as me- as Jean Bart?"

Click to shrink...

Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy

---

With a small sigh, accepting that she'd been caught, she went to explain. "No, you're a ship's spirit represented as a human, probably. This may be better with graphics, Hull." The American destroyer nods before pulling a pad of paper from within her cropped suit jacket top. "Graphics explain everything better." Neustrashimy notes as if that explains everything while Hull gets to doodling on a page.

After a few moments Hull hands her pad of paper over to Neustrashimy who then turns it around so Jean Bart can see what's drawn. There appears to be a whole load of stick figures that each have an arrow above their heads pointing at a cloud. That cloud then has an arrow pointing towards a wiggly ghost figure with a ponytail. There's then another arrow that points at a stereotypical magic wand and finally one more arrow that points at big stick figure with a ponytail on crude water. It's no work of art but Neustrashimy hopes it'll help things along.

"We start here." Neustrashimy points at the group of stick figures. "These are your crew, the people that served aboard you during your time afloat. Over time their collective belief in you gathered together and that was... Hmm. No, it's not... Perhaps... Well, it works." She moves her finger to point at the cloud. "That collective belief just grew and grew over time, building in strength. It gathered history, it gathered knowledge, it gathered weight. And then it became something more." Now her finger moves over to the wiggly ghost figure with a ponytail. "And that 'something more' was you. You're the ship and a person, a spirit who is the embodiment of both things, but you're still not in reality. That is where things get silly." Her finger now points to the magic wand. "You and the rest of us were given form through magic, somehow. We were incarnated and made real but we maintained our abilities, so in the end..." Her finger moves towards the final thing. "We are incarnated spirits with our abilities as ships in human form. We are people, but we are still ships. I could be wrong... But that feels right to me." Neustrashimy finally finishes speaking and holds that pad of paper loosely in her hands just in case Jean wants to take it from her.

Click to shrink...

HSwMS Halland and HSwMS Småland
Status: A time for reflection (and refreshments)

The two Swedish destroyers share a meaningful glance: while they are indeed still adjusting to their newfound humanity, just as the French cruisers appears to be, from what they've gathered on the way here it seems they might -somehow- actually be the exception.



Småland follows Neustrashimy's detailed explanation with a fascinated expression, nodding along the way. "You know," she says at the end, "that makes a lot of sense. I do kinda have the memories of my crew, and even some from my museum staff and yet I'm not just the sum of their minds... it fits. Which is kind impressive considering you were summoned at the same time as us. Hmm... is that because of your...", the pigtailed destroyer looks around, "unique perspective? Actually, how does that fit into all this?"

Click to shrink...

"So I'm the... ghost of Jean Bart? I... well, that's better than being a confused human, at least. Where does the magic come in, though? I would have said magic was impossible before, but then I woke up like this with the French coast on fire, so... I'm not sure what to think about any of this. What were those- Abyssals, I think the name was? Abyssals doing here, then? How did they shove a battleship and an aircraft carrier together like that?"

I dropped my head into my hands with confusion at all of this. I... hadn't put a whole lot of thought into this while we were fighting or running, but none of this made any sense. At all. I knew how to fight, not deal with magic.

Click to shrink...

"Ah, Neustrashimy, was it? Neustrashimy has the right idea of it," Jeanne interjects. "As near as anyone can tell, shipgirls are indeed a gestalt that arises out of the crew's collective belief and the sheer weight of their own history. There used to be theories that it was the dead crew, but that's been pretty solidly debunked by now. Abyssals..."

"Abyssals are an entirely other kettle of fish," Wright picks up. "Most of what we know about their origins comes from what little study of Enterprise the US Navy managed before she was sunk and re-summoned. They're shipgirl-shaped bundles of hate given physical form. And yeah, I know that that's an extremely vague answer that raises more questions than it answers. Welcome to studying Abyssals. Five years into this war and we know barely anything about the how of Abyssals."

She grimaces. "Believe it or not, we have probably the most solid theory for the origin of the Re-class - that's the hybrid battleship and aircraft carrier and if you girls ran into one I'm damn impressed you're all alive, let alone mobile, so good job on that. The theory is that they're the template based on USS Kentucky, kind of all of the proposals they had for the hull jammed into one ball of hate."

"Um, if I could cut in again, Wright," Jeanne, indeed, cuts in. She turns to Neustrashimy, a questioning expression on her face. "What do you mean, reincarnated spirit approach? As far as we know, that's the only way to get a shipgirl."

Tiger sits quietly in her chair, her hands gripping the trim of the bowler hat nervously. Meeting an admiral... in her experience... which would probably be her crew's, now that she could think idly about it, but still, meeting with the brass never ended well for her. There was just no pleasing of them, even if she recognised she was probably being unfair to Admiral Masson. She has never met the man, and Jeanne didn't think they would have any problem, but...

"... made the unpardonable error of shooting down a very expensive target aircraft!"

But she just couldn't help it.

Click to shrink...

A heavy body sits down next to Tiger, and if she looks up, she'll find Vanguard giving her a sympathetic expression. She doesn't say anything, merely draping her arm across the cruiser's shoulders and tugging her in a little closer.

 

[Hydrokinesis]

Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy

---

HSwMS Halland and HSwMS Småland
Status: A time for reflection (and refreshments)

---

Småland follows Neustrashimy's detailed explanation with a fascinated expression, nodding along the way. "You know," she says at the end, "that makes a lot of sense. I do kinda have the memories of my crew, and even some from my museum staff and yet I'm not just the sum of their minds... it fits. Which is kind impressive considering you were summoned at the same time as us. Hmm... is that because of your...", the pigtailed destroyer looks around, "unique perspective? Actually, how does that fit into all this?"

Click to shrink...

"I think so, yes. There's still some stuff I won't share, so I'll leave it at just 'yes'." Neustrashimy says as she turns her attention to Småland. "And I don't know how it fits into all this, I'm just as confused about that as you are."

"Ah, Neustrashimy, was it? Neustrashimy has the right idea of it," Jeanne interjects. "As near as anyone can tell, shipgirls are indeed a gestalt that arises out of the crew's collective belief and the sheer weight of their own history. There used to be theories that it was the dead crew, but that's been pretty solidly debunked by now. Abyssals..."

"Abyssals are an entirely other kettle of fish," Wright picks up. "Most of what we know about their origins comes from what little study of Enterprise the US Navy managed before she was sunk and re-summoned. They're shipgirl-shaped bundles of hate given physical form. And yeah, I know that that's an extremely vague answer that raises more questions than it answers. Welcome to studying Abyssals. Five years into this war and we know barely anything about the how of Abyssals."

She grimaces. "Believe it or not, we have probably the most solid theory for the origin of the Re-class - that's the hybrid battleship and aircraft carrier and if you girls ran into one I'm damn impressed you're all alive, let alone mobile, so good job on that. The theory is that they're the template based on USS Kentucky, kind of all of the proposals they had for the hull jammed into one ball of hate."

"Um, if I could cut in again, Wright," Jeanne, indeed, cuts in. She turns to Neustrashimy, a questioning expression on her face. "What do you mean, reincarnated spirit approach? As far as we know, that's the only way to get a shipgirl."

Click to shrink...

"Uh, about that... I was saying there was more than one way to..." She pauses and looks to be in thought for a moment, a finger tapping against her chin. "Basically I was lying to try and see if Jean Bart would accept something else? Anyway!" She straightens up, Friesland and Hull mirroring her. "We did fight a Re-class. It was kinda neat, we all opened fire on its aircraft from kilometers away and the sky was just explosions. There was..." Her voice trails off after the sudden topic change though she looks back towards Hull as she does so.

"Right, that fight. Lets see..." Hull leans back in her seat and tilts her head to the side in thought. "There were at least seventy aircraft that were destroyed within minutes, due to automatic artillery fire. Firing started at aircraft roughly 20 kilometers away, Friesland or Neustrashimy would have a better idea of range." Hull wiggled a little side to side as she went over her logs mentally. "Three Abyssal cruisers and six destroyers were routed, most sunk. Two Abyssal submarines sunk through Swedish wire-controlled torpedoes and both Dutch and Russian ASW rockets. Lastly, the Re-class was shelled... Moderately? Moderately seems good. The Re-class was shelled moderately by the two battleships in our mismatched fleet."

"Yeah, that fight. We definitely took some damage, but we made it through without too much trouble. I think deploying a minefield around the harbor really helped too." Friesland nods at that now. "Plus, the Re-class didn't seem too interested in sticking around? Maybe we got lucky or something but that's cool with me." The Russian finally seats herself down beside her step-sisters and hands Hull her pad of paper.

 

[Miho Chan]

"Yes, I can see that..." Jeanne says uncertainly.

"Well, we'll see what they come up with," Wright decides, eyeing Des Moines' pacing. "Are you- ha, obviously you aren't alright. Is there anything I could do to help with... whatever's bothering you?"

Click to shrink...

I sigh, ceasing my pacing for a moment, before another frustrated growl arises from my throat, and I resume, my pace increased and my frown much more prominent. I was utterly sick of this second life already, even though I was counting my blessings, foremost among all of them being a good ship, and being female in body as well as soul.

Sighing once more, I ran my hand through my hair, then replied, "I'm dealing with a lot, including memories that can't be mine, nor the members of my crew, nor of a life I just so happened to dream. They're too real for that. I don't know where the hell Des Moines begins and Lillie ends, to be perfectly frank."

With that stated, I collapse onto the floor, fighting against the breakdown that had been coming for weeks at this point.

 

[UbeOne]

Micha De Ruyter

---

I sigh, ceasing my pacing for a moment, before another frustrated growl arises from my throat, and I resume, my pace increased and my frown much more prominent. I was utterly sick of this second life already, even though I was counting my blessings, foremost among all of them being a good ship, and being female in body as well as soul.

Sighing once more, I ran my hand through my hair, then replied, "I'm dealing with a lot, including memories that can't be mine, nor the members of my crew, nor of a life I just so happened to dream. They're too real for that. I don't know where the hell Des Moines begins and Lillie ends, to be perfectly frank."

With that stated, I collapse onto the floor, fighting against the breakdown that had been coming for weeks at this point.

Click to shrink...

Now that gets my attention as I approach the fellow human-turned-cruiser. "Um... if it helps, I was also human before this. Part of me is De Ruyter, and part of me is Rae," I gently explain, "How I think of it... is that I'm both, a sum total of both lives. So, at one time, I was busy on patrol or on naval exercise. At another time, I was playing games on the computer. I am still me, just with more experiences. So, what I mean to say is... maybe you could harmoniously be both? Either way, you're still you, however you'd like to define yourself as, whether now or later on. I won't judge."

I can't help but be nervous, and brace myself in case this backfires on me.

 

[Wobulator]

Micha De Ruyter

---

Now that gets my attention as I approach the fellow human-turned-cruiser. "Um... if it helps, I was also human before this. Part of me is De Ruyter, and part of me is Rae," I gently explain, "How I think of it... is that I'm both, a sum total of both lives. So, at one time, I was busy on patrol or on naval exercise. At another time, I was playing games on the computer. I am still me, just with more experiences. So, what I mean to say is... maybe you could harmoniously be both? Either way, you're still you, however you'd like to define yourself as, whether now or later on. I won't judge."

I can't help but be nervous, and brace myself in case this backfires on me.

Click to shrink...

I sigh, ceasing my pacing for a moment, before another frustrated growl arises from my throat, and I resume, my pace increased and my frown much more prominent. I was utterly sick of this second life already, even though I was counting my blessings, foremost among all of them being a good ship, and being female in body as well as soul.

Sighing once more, I ran my hand through my hair, then replied, "I'm dealing with a lot, including memories that can't be mine, nor the members of my crew, nor of a life I just so happened to dream. They're too real for that. I don't know where the hell Des Moines begins and Lillie ends, to be perfectly frank."

With that stated, I collapse onto the floor, fighting against the breakdown that had been coming for weeks at this point.

Click to shrink...

I looked over at De Ruyter and Des Moines in confusion. "I can - sorta - wrap my head around that explanation for us and abyssals, but you two were human? How- " I cut myself off with a sigh. "Nevermind, you probably don't know either."
I turned back to Jeanne and Wright "Do you know where my sister is, at least? It's been... a long time since I've seen her."

 

[Omida]

A heavy body sits down next to Tiger, and if she looks up, she'll find Vanguard giving her a sympathetic expression. She doesn't say anything, merely draping her arm across the cruiser's shoulders and tugging her in a little closer.

Click to shrink...

Sighing, Tiger leans against the battleship and closes her eyes, not asleep, but deciding to spend the rest of the wait resting.

"Thanks." She mutters quietly.

 

[~Celeste~]

HSwMS Halland and HSwMS Småland
Status: Identity crisis

---

"Abyssals are an entirely other kettle of fish," Wright picks up. "Most of what we know about their origins comes from what little study of Enterprise the US Navy managed before she was sunk and re-summoned. They're shipgirl-shaped bundles of hate given physical form. And yeah, I know that that's an extremely vague answer that raises more questions than it answers. Welcome to studying Abyssals. Five years into this war and we know barely anything about the how of Abyssals."

She grimaces. "Believe it or not, we have probably the most solid theory for the origin of the Re-class - that's the hybrid battleship and aircraft carrier and if you girls ran into one I'm damn impressed you're all alive, let alone mobile, so good job on that. The theory is that they're the template based on USS Kentucky, kind of all of the proposals they had for the hull jammed into one ball of hate."

Click to shrink...

"That's... something." Halland says after a bit. "Quite something, yeah," Småland agrees. "So you're basically saying we know nothing except that they're, like, hate given the form of weird WW2 stuff? Okay assuming that makes sense - I mean we've seen them - why?" the pigtailed destroyer shakes her head a confused gesture, staring at the French cruiser with a puzzled look."I mean their planes are getting pretty much *mulched* by any kind of halfway modern AA, and we've seen those... Rafales, was it? Working great against them, so... why ww2?"

Now that gets my attention as I approach the fellow human-turned-cruiser. "Um... if it helps, I was also human before this. Part of me is De Ruyter, and part of me is Rae," I gently explain, "How I think of it... is that I'm both, a sum total of both lives. So, at one time, I was busy on patrol or on naval exercise. At another time, I was playing games on the computer. I am still me, just with more experiences. So, what I mean to say is... maybe you could harmoniously be both? Either way, you're still you, however you'd like to define yourself as, whether now or later on. I won't judge."

I can't help but be nervous, and brace myself in case this backfires on me.

Click to shrink...

The two Swedish destroyers share a confused look, then glance from De Ruyter, to Des Moines, to the Destroyer trio.

"This makes no sense." Halland says finally - if we're supposed to be the reincarnated spirit of warships, which feels right, then why does half of our group somehow have human souls? And why *don't we?* What is the deciding factor here?

With that stated, I collapse onto the floor, fighting against the breakdown that had been coming for weeks at this point.

Click to shrink...

Surprisingly enough, the stoic Halland reacts faster than her sister, kneeling by the side of the nerve-wracked cruiser.

"Hey, it's... huh alright," she says awkwardly, "You are safe now so maybe you should... let it all out yes. Yes I think that would be for the best." She continues.

At a loss for words, and looking quite lost herself, the normally stoic destroyer carefully wraps an arm around the cruiser's shoulders.

 

[CV12Hornet]

"That's... something." Halland says after a bit. "Quite something, yeah," Småland agrees. "So you're basically saying we know nothing except that they're, like, hate given the form of weird WW2 stuff? Okay assuming that makes sense - I mean we've seen them - why?" the pigtailed destroyer shakes her head a confused gesture, staring at the French cruiser with a puzzled look."I mean their planes are getting pretty much *mulched* by any kind of halfway modern AA, and we've seen those... Rafales, was it? Working great against them, so... why ww2?"

Click to shrink...

"Oh, that part's easy: the last time there was a naval war big enough to generate that much hate in the form of sunken vessels was WWII," Wright answers. "The scientists got pretty nervous about the Falklands and Persian Gulf once they figured that out, but not a peep. And yeah, the Abyssals got some pretty rude shocks on Black Thursday, lemme tell ya."

"As did humanity," Jeanne somberly adds. "The thing you have to understand about modern weaponry is that for all its lethality they're a lot rarer and hard to replace than even Cold War weapons. There are barely five hundred of those Rafales in existence, and that's with the manufacturer running full-tilt and adding more production facilities. Shipgirls are, if nothing else, vital just to buy the time needed to build up sufficient ammunition stocks for more conventional weaponry."

I sigh, ceasing my pacing for a moment, before another frustrated growl arises from my throat, and I resume, my pace increased and my frown much more prominent. I was utterly sick of this second life already, even though I was counting my blessings, foremost among all of them being a good ship, and being female in body as well as soul.

Sighing once more, I ran my hand through my hair, then replied, "I'm dealing with a lot, including memories that can't be mine, nor the members of my crew, nor of a life I just so happened to dream. They're too real for that. I don't know where the hell Des Moines begins and Lillie ends, to be perfectly frank."

With that stated, I collapse onto the floor, fighting against the breakdown that had been coming for weeks at this point.

Click to shrink...

Micha De Ruyter

---

Now that gets my attention as I approach the fellow human-turned-cruiser. "Um... if it helps, I was also human before this. Part of me is De Ruyter, and part of me is Rae," I gently explain, "How I think of it... is that I'm both, a sum total of both lives. So, at one time, I was busy on patrol or on naval exercise. At another time, I was playing games on the computer. I am still me, just with more experiences. So, what I mean to say is... maybe you could harmoniously be both? Either way, you're still you, however you'd like to define yourself as, whether now or later on. I won't judge."

I can't help but be nervous, and brace myself in case this backfires on me.

Click to shrink...

The two Swedish destroyers share a confused look, then glance from De Ruyter, to Des Moines, to the Destroyer trio.

"This makes no sense." Halland says finally - if we're supposed to be the reincarnated spirit of warships, which feels right, then why does half of our group somehow have human souls? And why *don't we?* What is the deciding factor here?

Click to shrink...

I looked over at De Ruyter and Des Moines in confusion. "I can - sorta - wrap my head around that explanation for us and abyssals, but you two were human? How- " I cut myself off with a sigh. "Nevermind, you probably don't know either."
I turned back to Jeanne and Wright "Do you know where my sister is, at least? It's been... a long time since I've seen her."

Click to shrink...

Jeanne and Wright gape at the two cruisers, plainly gobsmacked.

"W-Wait..." Wright stammers. "De Ruyter, Des Moines, you two used to be human?! How- wha-"

"I mean, we've all heard the rumors about where the Japanese found Fubuki..." Jeanne points out.

"Yeah, and they're rumors. I put in about as much stock that as the randos on Twitter," Wright retorts.

Jeanne grimaces, and turns back to the group. "Well, I can definitely say the science team will be itching to talk to you," she said. "But, ah, we should probably table that discussion because we were under the impression that that wasn't even possible." She turns to Jean Bart, and smiles. "As for Richelieu, she's still in the docks. Once Admiral Masson finishes talking to you, I can show you there so you can visit."

Somewhat lost behind the conversation is the brief sound of rapid typing.

Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy

---

"I think so, yes. There's still some stuff I won't share, so I'll leave it at just 'yes'." Neustrashimy says as she turns her attention to Småland. "And I don't know how it fits into all this, I'm just as confused about that as you are."



"Uh, about that... I was saying there was more than one way to..." She pauses and looks to be in thought for a moment, a finger tapping against her chin. "Basically I was lying to try and see if Jean Bart would accept something else? Anyway!" She straightens up, Friesland and Hull mirroring her. "We did fight a Re-class. It was kinda neat, we all opened fire on its aircraft from kilometers away and the sky was just explosions. There was..." Her voice trails off after the sudden topic change though she looks back towards Hull as she does so.

"Right, that fight. Lets see..." Hull leans back in her seat and tilts her head to the side in thought. "There were at least seventy aircraft that were destroyed within minutes, due to automatic artillery fire. Firing started at aircraft roughly 20 kilometers away, Friesland or Neustrashimy would have a better idea of range." Hull wiggled a little side to side as she went over her logs mentally. "Three Abyssal cruisers and six destroyers were routed, most sunk. Two Abyssal submarines sunk through Swedish wire-controlled torpedoes and both Dutch and Russian ASW rockets. Lastly, the Re-class was shelled... Moderately? Moderately seems good. The Re-class was shelled moderately by the two battleships in our mismatched fleet."

"Yeah, that fight. We definitely took some damage, but we made it through without too much trouble. I think deploying a minefield around the harbor really helped too." Friesland nods at that now. "Plus, the Re-class didn't seem too interested in sticking around? Maybe we got lucky or something but that's cool with me." The Russian finally seats herself down beside her step-sisters and hands Hull her pad of paper.

Click to shrink...

Wright immediately starts typing, presumably copying what Hull, Neustrashimy, and Friesland are saying. "You guys were near Cardiff, right?" she asks. "Pity about the Re-class, but mining Cardiff harbor will definitely hurt the Abyssals, so good job on that."

Sighing, Tiger leans against the battleship and closes her eyes, not asleep, but deciding to spend the rest of the wait resting.

"Thanks." She mutters quietly.

Click to shrink...

"It's no trouble," Vanguard quietly says back.

~o~
​

The room reaches a lull in the conversation for about fifteen minutes before the door opens, Zuikaku, Hornet, Akizuki, and The Sullivans trooping out.

"Alright, it's your turn to talk to the Admiral," Zuikaku says. "Just be polite and respectful and it'll all be fine."

"And if you guys need a friendly face, just find us in the mess at mealtime," Akizuki adds. And with that, the quartet leaves.

"Go ahead and head in," Jeanne says after a moment.

The inner office is tastefully decorated. A few landscape paintings on the wall, in between framed diplomas and honors. The desk is remarkably clutter-free with only a large monitor screen on it. The admiral herself is, surprisingly, female, and upon the flotilla's entry she smiles and indicates the chairs in an arc in front of her desk.

"Sit down, please!" Masson says. Her friendly tone, however, does not hide an exhausted note in her voice, nor a hint of eyebags underneath mildly smudged concealer.

That she promptly takes out an energy drink can and shotguns it is another clue.

"So. Akizuki and The Sullivans covered most of the details of your impromptu raiding mission, so I won't belabor you for the details," she says. "But they did say all of you were... odd." She glances over at Des Moines in particular. "Hornet was very quick to note how different you were, Des Moines, from what she remembered you were like. So. Tell me about yourselves, and who you were as ships."

 

[Omida]

"So. Akizuki and The Sullivans covered most of the details of your impromptu raiding mission, so I won't belabor you for the details," she says. "But they did say all of you were... odd." She glances over at Des Moines in particular. "Hornet was very quick to note how different you were, Des Moines, from what she remembered you were like. So. Tell me about yourselves, and who you were as ships."

Click to shrink...

Tiger gives admiral Masson a curtsy, bowing her head and holding the folds of her dress up. She is quite surprised to see the admiral be female, but manages to keep that surprise to herself, merely giving polite smile.

"I am Her Majesty's Ship Tiger, pennant number 'C-20', Admiral." She starts. "Either fifth of the Minotaur-class or first of Tiger-class light cruisers, depending on whom you ask." An should anyone ask her, she would ferociously argue she was Minotaur. "I had the distinct honour of spending eighteen years in John Brown Shipyards, with fourteen of those spent waiting for my commissioning. I have spent my first year as flagship of Mediterranean Fleet before being directed to Indonesia. I have also been the one to house the independence talks for Rhodesia. Aside from that, I am afraid my service has been less than stellar." She murmurs, eyes glued to the ground.

 

[UbeOne]

Micha De Ruyter

---

I looked over at De Ruyter and Des Moines in confusion. "I can - sorta - wrap my head around that explanation for us and abyssals, but you two were human? How- " I cut myself off with a sigh. "Nevermind, you probably don't know either."
I turned back to Jeanne and Wright "Do you know where my sister is, at least? It's been... a long time since I've seen her."

Click to shrink...

The two Swedish destroyers share a confused look, then glance from De Ruyter, to Des Moines, to the Destroyer trio.

"This makes no sense." Halland says finally - if we're supposed to be the reincarnated spirit of warships, which feels right, then why does half of our group somehow have human souls? And why *don't we?* What is the deciding factor here?

Click to shrink...

I can only shrug helplessly at those, for I'm as clueless as they are about it. All I know is that I was certainly human before all this, am still human as a person just that I'm also a ship spirit, and that I'm not the only one who's like that.

"Oh, that part's easy: the last time there was a naval war big enough to generate that much hate in the form of sunken vessels was WWII," Wright answers. "The scientists got pretty nervous about the Falklands and Persian Gulf once they figured that out, but not a peep. And yeah, the Abyssals got some pretty rude shocks on Black Thursday, lemme tell ya."

"As did humanity," Jeanne somberly adds. "The thing you have to understand about modern weaponry is that for all its lethality they're a lot rarer and hard to replace than even Cold War weapons. There are barely five hundred of those Rafales in existence, and that's with the manufacturer running full-tilt and adding more production facilities. Shipgirls are, if nothing else, vital just to buy the time needed to build up sufficient ammunition stocks for more conventional weaponry."

Click to shrink...

Huh, that explains why most shipgirls are of the WW2 sort, and why modern weapons, while effective, aren't the end-all be-all. Talk about how teamwork is needed to make the dream work, in this case between what kanmusu and humanity are capable of.

Jeanne and Wright gape at the two cruisers, plainly gobsmacked.

"W-Wait..." Wright stammers. "De Ruyter, Des Moines, you two used to be human?! How- wha-"

"I mean, we've all heard the rumors about where the Japanese found Fubuki..." Jeanne points out.

"Yeah, and they're rumors. I put in about as much stock that as the randos on Twitter," Wright retorts.

Jeanne grimaces, and turns back to the group. "Well, I can definitely say the science team will be itching to talk to you," she said. "But, ah, we should probably table that discussion because we were under the impression that that wasn't even possible." She turns to Jean Bart, and smiles. "As for Richelieu, she's still in the docks. Once Admiral Masson finishes talking to you, I can show you there so you can visit."

Somewhat lost behind the conversation is the brief sound of rapid typing.


Wright immediately starts typing, presumably copying what Hull, Neustrashimy, and Friesland are saying. "You guys were near Cardiff, right?" she asks. "Pity about the Re-class, but mining Cardiff harbor will definitely hurt the Abyssals, so good job on that."


"It's no trouble," Vanguard quietly says back.

~o~
​

The room reaches a lull in the conversation for about fifteen minutes before the door opens, Zuikaku, Hornet, Akizuki, and The Sullivans trooping out.

"Alright, it's your turn to talk to the Admiral," Zuikaku says. "Just be polite and respectful and it'll all be fine."

"And if you guys need a friendly face, just find us in the mess at mealtime," Akizuki adds. And with that, the quartet leaves.

"Go ahead and head in," Jeanne says after a moment.

The inner office is tastefully decorated. A few landscape paintings on the wall, in between framed diplomas and honors. The desk is remarkably clutter-free with only a large monitor screen on it. The admiral herself is, surprisingly, female, and upon the flotilla's entry she smiles and indicates the chairs in an arc in front of her desk.

"Sit down, please!" Masson says. Her friendly tone, however, does not hide an exhausted note in her voice, nor a hint of eyebags underneath mildly smudged concealer.

That she promptly takes out an energy drink can and shotguns it is another clue.

"So. Akizuki and The Sullivans covered most of the details of your impromptu raiding mission, so I won't belabor you for the details," she says. "But they did say all of you were... odd." She glances over at Des Moines in particular. "Hornet was very quick to note how different you were, Des Moines, from what she remembered you were like. So. Tell me about yourselves, and who you were as ships."

Click to shrink...

I give the admiral a salute out of respect. "I am HNLMS De Ruyter, pennant C801, Madam, though I'm also fine with being called Micha," I begin, "I was first commissioned years after the war, in 1953. With the Dutch Navy, I served for two decades, mostly doing naval exercises with NATO. Then, I was decommissioned with them, and was hired by the Peruvian Navy, serving under the name Almirante Grau, CLM-81. My years with Peru were mostly uneventful, albeit pleasant, and in the year 2017, I was decommissioned once more. Last I heard, my hull will be preserved as a museum. It's only since awakening here that I have experienced battle..."

 

[Miho Chan]

The room reaches a lull in the conversation for about fifteen minutes before the door opens, Zuikaku, Hornet, Akizuki, and The Sullivans trooping out.

"Alright, it's your turn to talk to the Admiral," Zuikaku says. "Just be polite and respectful and it'll all be fine."

"And if you guys need a friendly face, just find us in the mess at mealtime," Akizuki adds. And with that, the quartet leaves.

"Go ahead and head in," Jeanne says after a moment.

The inner office is tastefully decorated. A few landscape paintings on the wall, in between framed diplomas and honors. The desk is remarkably clutter-free with only a large monitor screen on it. The admiral herself is, surprisingly, female, and upon the flotilla's entry she smiles and indicates the chairs in an arc in front of her desk.

"Sit down, please!" Masson says. Her friendly tone, however, does not hide an exhausted note in her voice, nor a hint of eyebags underneath mildly smudged concealer.

That she promptly takes out an energy drink can and shotguns it is another clue.

"So. Akizuki and The Sullivans covered most of the details of your impromptu raiding mission, so I won't belabor you for the details," she says. "But they did say all of you were... odd." She glances over at Des Moines in particular. "Hornet was very quick to note how different you were, Des Moines, from what she remembered you were like. So. Tell me about yourselves, and who you were as ships."

Click to shrink...

I raise an eyebrow at the Admiral's question, wondering exactly how different I was from the Des Moines of before, though I don't voice the question. After all, it wasn't my place. I wasn't entirely Des Moines after all.

"USS Des Moines, Hull Number One-Thirty-Four, Ma'am!" I bark out, falling naturally into a sharp salute, "I was commissioned on November Sixteenth, Nineteen-Forty-Six, and I served until the sixth of July in nineteen-sixty-one. I was then mothballed for several years before finally being scrapped in Texas." I add, no hint of bitterness or longing present within my voice. While it was disappointing that I couldn't serve my nation more, I knew my time was limited from the moment I was commissioned, at least, in hindsight. Naval Guns were, after all, almost universally replaced by missiles pretty quickly after the second world war.

With my piece said, I retreat from the front of the room, and begin to idle, playing with my hair nervously.

 

[Hydrokinesis]

Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy

---

The room reaches a lull in the conversation for about fifteen minutes before the door opens, Zuikaku, Hornet, Akizuki, and The Sullivans trooping out.

"Alright, it's your turn to talk to the Admiral," Zuikaku says. "Just be polite and respectful and it'll all be fine."

"And if you guys need a friendly face, just find us in the mess at mealtime," Akizuki adds. And with that, the quartet leaves.

"Go ahead and head in," Jeanne says after a moment.

The inner office is tastefully decorated. A few landscape paintings on the wall, in between framed diplomas and honors. The desk is remarkably clutter-free with only a large monitor screen on it. The admiral herself is, surprisingly, female, and upon the flotilla's entry she smiles and indicates the chairs in an arc in front of her desk.

"Sit down, please!" Masson says. Her friendly tone, however, does not hide an exhausted note in her voice, nor a hint of eyebags underneath mildly smudged concealer.

That she promptly takes out an energy drink can and shotguns it is another clue.

"So. Akizuki and The Sullivans covered most of the details of your impromptu raiding mission, so I won't belabor you for the details," she says. "But they did say all of you were... odd." She glances over at Des Moines in particular. "Hornet was very quick to note how different you were, Des Moines, from what she remembered you were like. So. Tell me about yourselves, and who you were as ships."

Click to shrink...

The tri of destroyers follow everyone else in, getting seated as well, and after the first three say their parts the mismatched trio take their turn. There's a thought that passes through all three of their heads as well as they wonder if Admiral Masson had meant what some where like as humans, not ships. Either way the three before them did give them time to think over what to say and what to conceal.

Neustrashimy stands and is once again the first to speak up for the trio. "I'm the Russian ship Neustrashimy, ma'am. I, uh, don't have much to say for my service history? I entered into service in nineteen fifty five and then I just did patrols mostly and functioned as a test bed." She shrugs "But my personal history... Friesland, Hull, and myself all have fragments of a human mind we believe belonged to a Canadian." As she spoke Neustrashimy pointed out Friesland and Hull to make identifying them easier. "It, uh, has influenced us, we think, in an interesting way and we would appreciate not being split up."

Hull follows after Neustrashimy and stands when the Russian sits. "As Neustrashimy pointed out, I'm USS Hull or Dee Dee Nine forty five. Much like my step-sister I didn't do much after entering into service in nineteen fifty eight, my big claim to 'fame' is testing if an eight inch gun would work on a destroyer. It did, and without me experiencing adverse effects. And uh... Yeah, that whole mind thing is weird since... Мы также делимся языками, en we denken ook hetzelfde." Hull delivers the Russian and Dutch parts as best as she can but there's still a generic American accent present anyway. After speaking Hull seats herself and glances over to Friesland who doesn't seem enthused about speaking.

But she still stands anyway and toys with the material of her skirt. "I'm Friesland or Dee eight one two, a Dutch destroyer. Unlike both of my step-sisters I wasn't used to test something so my history is a little less interesting, I just traveled a lot. Oh, and I entered service in nineteen fifty six as well. And as for what Hull said, she stated that we share languages and think in a similar fashion. I figured I'd translate since not everyone speaks Dutch or Russian." She quietly sits down and waits for the next person in their motley crew to introduce themselves to the very tired admiral. They all could have waxed poetic about what they'd figured out of their human past but given just how tired the woman before them was? It wasn't worth it to draw out the whole series of introductions.

 

[Wobulator]

I sharply saluted the admiral.
"Ma'am! Richelieu-class battleship, Jean Bart. I was launched in 1940 and commissioned in 1949, after delays from the Nazis. I served for seven years before being decommissioned in 1957. I've seen action in Casablanca and Port Said, though only limited firings at either. The last thing that I remember was my scrapping in 1970, before waking up in the Channel with the others."

"I... didn't expect to ever need to say this, but I have no memories of ever being a human or anything like that. I am a warship, even if my body is... odd".

 

[~Celeste~]

Halland freezes for a moment, looking torn between following the Admiral's request to sit down and standing at attention as a sign of respect. In the end, the woman;'s question ends up making her mind for her, and she quickly snaps a salute:

"HSwMS Halland, hull number J18, reporting for duty ma'am. I was commissioned in 1955 as the lead ship of my class. My service life was... ordinary, for the most part" she says matter-of-factly, "except for a certain... situation with the soviets, that is." The destroyer can't help but glance Neustrashimy for a second before returning her gaze to the officer. "Unfortunately I don't have much else to report as my last memory before awakening was being decommissioned and sent for scrapping." A small pause. "It appears quite some time has passed since then."

"Quite a bit, yeah," Småland agrees, patting her older sister's arm from the chair she's resting on, having followed the admiral's initial suggestion. The destroyer gives the officer a respectful but noticeably calmer salute. "HSwMS Småland, J19. Same class, commissioned a year after and had pretty much the same career. I was decommissioned before my sister but I was actually kept around as a museum ship for longer. My memories go up to... 2019, I think? Then things start getting real fuzzy. Do you happen to know what happened to my hull, ma'am?"

Halland blinks, only just seeming to realize something. "Småland - our half-sisters."

The other ship blinks twice, mouth parting in a silent 'oh'.

"Right! Ma'am, do you know anything about our sisters? 7 de Agosto and 20 de Julio?" We aren't especially close but they're family. If they'vecome back we'd like to know where they are and if they are alive and well."

 

[CV12Hornet]

@~Celeste~ @Wobulator @Hydrokinesis @Miho Chan @Omida @UbeOne

Admiral Masson takes in all the answers, and leans back in her chair, frowning in thought. Finally, after a couple of rather uncomfortable minutes, she says, "Well, I suppose that rules out the alternate universe theories."

Reaching up, she rubs her eyes. "I'm going to be honest with you girls: I'm not entirely sure what to do with you. The Sullivans and Akizuki said they informed you of the strategic situation, and so you can probably guess that right now I have my hands full getting the fleet repaired, rested, and then reorganized as we re-summon shipgirls. This is especially complicated by the fact that at least a couple of you-" Here she pointedly looks over Des Moines and Jean Bart. "Were integrated into existing units that I just know are going to fight tooth and nail to get the two of you back. The only problem is I'm not convinced that's the best course of action, after your adventure around Britain."

"Short term, though, you have given me something to work with, so thank you for that. Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy, Des Moines, De Ruyter, report to the boffins after breakfast tomorrow to see what they can find. The implication of human souls inhabiting shipgirl bodies is... Well, frankly, that's above my paygrade and promises to be fascinating and terrifying in equal measure."

"For the rest of you, we have recreational facilities, a firing range, and I know some of you are eager to meet your sisters. Speaking of which, Halland, Smaland, I'm afraid to say that your half-sisters have not been summoned. Mostly for lack of trying on the part of the Colombians, I expect."

"But for now, I'm sure you'd all just like to rest and unwind some. All the heavy stuff can start tomorrow - and by then I'll have a suitable minder for you."

At some unseen or unheard cue, Jeanne pokes her head into the room. "Yes Admiral?"

"Jeanne, would you mind showing our new shipgirls to suitable quarters?" Admiral Masson says.

"Of course," the cruiser replies. "Task force setup?"

"Please."

Jeanne nods. "If you'll all follow me, please."

Jeanne leads the group out of the office, Wright waving as they go. Their route takes them out of the headquarters building, but it's not far until a squat, broad three-story building that certainly looks like some sort of barracks. Inside is a large common area with sofas, armchairs, and an impossibly flat television set, and then beyond a long corridor lined at regular intervals with doors, each sporting a number plate on the wall; the left side more closely spaced than the right. Jeanne lets the flotilla look while she retrieves several set of keys from a wall mounting, before opening two doors, one on each side of the building.

The room on the left resembles an officer's bunk, with a single bed, a desk, and a sizeable wardrobe. The room on the right is roomier, with a full king bed and a large closet, as well as no less than eight of the desks. The walls and bedspreads are tastefully but plainly colored a light, calming blue.

"Cruisers and above on the left, destroyers on the right. Destroyers, I recommend cuddling up, we've found it helps," Jeanne explains. "Bathrooms are down the hall in the center of the building." She holds out the keys. "Take your pick of the rooms near the common area. Once you're situated, let me know if there's anywhere you'd like to go on base, or if you need anything like books or food."

 

[Wobulator]

I briefly looked at the room and its lack of battleship berthing, before turning back around and heading to the docks to find my sister. Upon reaching her berthing, I knocked on the door. "Richelieu? It's Jean Bart. May I come in?"

 

[Miho Chan]

I smiled, then, with an undignified flop, fell into one of the Cruiser berths, hugging myself as I closed my eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking me. I wanted to sleep, and no one was going to stop me!

 

[UbeOne]

Micha De Ruyter

---

@~Celeste~ @Wobulator @Hydrokinesis @Miho Chan @Omida @UbeOne

Admiral Masson takes in all the answers, and leans back in her chair, frowning in thought. Finally, after a couple of rather uncomfortable minutes, she says, "Well, I suppose that rules out the alternate universe theories."

Reaching up, she rubs her eyes. "I'm going to be honest with you girls: I'm not entirely sure what to do with you. The Sullivans and Akizuki said they informed you of the strategic situation, and so you can probably guess that right now I have my hands full getting the fleet repaired, rested, and then reorganized as we re-summon shipgirls. This is especially complicated by the fact that at least a couple of you-" Here she pointedly looks over Des Moines and Jean Bart. "Were integrated into existing units that I just know are going to fight tooth and nail to get the two of you back. The only problem is I'm not convinced that's the best course of action, after your adventure around Britain."

"Short term, though, you have given me something to work with, so thank you for that. Friesland, Hull, Neustrashimy, Des Moines, De Ruyter, report to the boffins after breakfast tomorrow to see what they can find. The implication of human souls inhabiting shipgirl bodies is... Well, frankly, that's above my paygrade and promises to be fascinating and terrifying in equal measure."

"For the rest of you, we have recreational facilities, a firing range, and I know some of you are eager to meet your sisters. Speaking of which, Halland, Smaland, I'm afraid to say that your half-sisters have not been summoned. Mostly for lack of trying on the part of the Colombians, I expect."

"But for now, I'm sure you'd all just like to rest and unwind some. All the heavy stuff can start tomorrow - and by then I'll have a suitable minder for you."

At some unseen or unheard cue, Jeanne pokes her head into the room. "Yes Admiral?"

"Jeanne, would you mind showing our new shipgirls to suitable quarters?" Admiral Masson says.

"Of course," the cruiser replies. "Task force setup?"

"Please."

Jeanne nods. "If you'll all follow me, please."

Jeanne leads the group out of the office, Wright waving as they go. Their route takes them out of the headquarters building, but it's not far until a squat, broad three-story building that certainly looks like some sort of barracks. Inside is a large common area with sofas, armchairs, and an impossibly flat television set, and then beyond a long corridor lined at regular intervals with doors, each sporting a number plate on the wall; the left side more closely spaced than the right. Jeanne lets the flotilla look while she retrieves several set of keys from a wall mounting, before opening two doors, one on each side of the building.

The room on the left resembles an officer's bunk, with a single bed, a desk, and a sizeable wardrobe. The room on the right is roomier, with a full king bed and a large closet, as well as no less than eight of the desks. The walls and bedspreads are tastefully but plainly colored a light, calming blue.

"Cruisers and above on the left, destroyers on the right. Destroyers, I recommend cuddling up, we've found it helps," Jeanne explains. "Bathrooms are down the hall in the center of the building." She holds out the keys. "Take your pick of the rooms near the common area. Once you're situated, let me know if there's anywhere you'd like to go on base, or if you need anything like books or food."

Click to shrink...

I take note of the sights, noting that they're not bad for a base that's very busy with recuperating from battle. And considering what we went through while we were at sea and traveling through Britain? This is practically heaven and home right now.

"Thank you," I answer the saintly cruiser as I receive my choice of room key, one that's as close as possible to the fire exit just in case.

It's when I'm finished familiarizing myself with my new room that I think of what to do next. Perhaps I could just go to sleep since the journey here was just so trying. Or perhaps I could wind down with something in mind first. A book? Hm... there's none that come to mind right now. So when I finally decide to make a request to Jeanne d'Arc, it's instead a different means of reading something. "Do you have a means of accessing the Internet like a smartphone or computer?" I ask her. Maybe I could read the news, or maybe I could watch cute videos or a movie or such.