Harry Potter & the Shipgirls

[darthcourt10]

MagisterAurelius

Ship of Fools 10.75 - The end of the date

It had been a wonderful time for all three girls in the village. Draco even had made extra effort to get to know more about Niobe and Cleopatra. It was when the girls had been sharing their and crews regrets in their ship lives, that Draco opened up. With considerable hesitation, he told all three of his girlfriends about the worry driving his pursuit of wandless magic and arcane power.

As he divulged what he went through while paralyzed by the basilisk, the three girls all held his hands and passed meaningful glances between themselves.
Draco took a breath and then got his biggest fear off his chest. "I... I know there's a lot of people who think my father would deserve whatever he gets from Voldemort. But I can't stop wanting to not let it happen. I don't want my father and mother to die. He's my dad." The girls said nothing, but all three of them hugged Draco tightly.

-0-

As they walked up to the gates of Hogwarts, Draco to enter and the girls to leave, a bushy haired Gryfindor stomped out of the castle and pointed her wand at Draco.

"Draco Malfoy, just what in Merlin's name are you plotting in seducing MY SISTER!" Hermione hissed at the blond boy. "I will give you to the count of ten to start running, then I will turn you into a fine red mist."

"Hermione Dagworth-Granger! You will do no such thing!" Cleopatra stepped in front of Draco to face off against Hermione.

As the two girls began to argue, Draco sat in stunned thought. Granger is Cleo's sister? Wait wait wait.. Granger is a DAGWORTH-GRANGER! Oh oh shite.

"Ahem," Draco gently laid a hand on Cleo's shoulder and moved into the line of fire. "Is it true. You are a Dagworth-Granger?"

"Yes you piece of sister-seducing slime! My blood opened the wards on the manor and my great grandfather was the younger squib brother of Medea Dagworth-Granger. So what Malfoy?"

"I apologize."

"Wut?" Hermione just stared at Draco slackly.

"Yes. First year where I called you a filthy Mud-blood. I now learn that I was in error. I apologize for slurring against your heritage. It was wrong of me to do so and I beg your forbearance." Draco stopped and considered for a moment. "You know, you could have made my social standing hell? Slurring a family line like I did has caused blood feuds in the past. Thank you. I owe you Hermione."

Hermione sputtered. "Why? Why would you apologize for that ... oh oh my god it's worse than I thought! YOU'VE SLEPT WITH MY SISTER!"

Draco replied confusedly, "Yes, last night I slept with Cleo, Johnston and Niobe. Why is that a problem?"

"DIE!" Hermione screamed.

-0-

Later on in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione flopped into a chair and tried to desperately massage her migraine away. She sighed heavily.

"Problem Hermione?" Ron inquired while he was playing a game of chess with Harry.

"My airheaded sister Cleopatra is dating Draco Fucking Malfoy is the problem Ron."

"I thought he was dating Johnston?" Harry looked up from the game.

"Oh no, he's dating three girls now. Johnston, Cleo and a German girl Niobe."

"Wait, are they all ship-girls?"

"Yes Harry. Draco must be jealous of you or something. He's clearing following your lead."

"Poi?"



----

Okay... that's enough to say that Chapter 10 is now complete.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Juuchi only shook her head before looking at Tsukiakari, but without needing words the other blade sheathed herself. Gently, the Kyu Gunto picked up Harry into a bridal carry before sighing, "Thank goodness."

Humming, the Muramasa nodded before her arm shot up in time to grab her sheath. Placing it to her side, she then sheathed her true self, noting that all the gore on it was gone, burned away in what had happened. She reached down and helped a shaky Sirius to his feet, "Up you go."

A chuckle from the side made her look at Kagotsuruhe who was observing the unconscious Harry. For a moment, Juuchi swore that the soft smile on her sister's face was genuine before shaking it off. Kago then turned to Juuchi and had a broad, though faked, smile on her face, "You have found interesting Masters, have you not, Juuchi-Chan?"

Softly snorting, Juuchi gave her a smug smirk, "Of course. Because I am me and would have no one less than those worthy of me."

Only nodding, the other Muramasa did not say anything. Instead, she turned to where the Aurors were rushing up, with Tonks running to Harry. With a glance at Tsukiakari, she cast a number of spells before sighing, "Good... just exhausted physically and it seems mentally."

Looking at Harry, one of the Aurors had an awed look on his face, "That had to have been... a hundred Dementors or more! And Potter blew them away with a Patronus before using... whatever that was to kill a bunch. Bloody Hell..."

Amelia glanced at him and then at the village where she could see various also awed wizards and witches mumbling to themselves, 'Yes, and no doubt the story is going to be all over Britain by the time the hour is out. And likely growing in the tale.' With a sigh, she shook her head internally, 'As if Potter was not famous enough, with this...' Turning towards Juuchi, she narrowed her eyes some. Especially as she noted the sword that the Japanese woman had at her side, as well as the one that Tsukiakari had, "Excuse me, may I ask who you may be?"

Her eyebrows twitched a bit as the woman in front of her only gave off a smug smile before making a motion with her hands, "We're retainers of the Potter family, Young Master Harry got in contact with us recently."

Eyes narrowing, the tone of Amelia's voice made sure that no one would mistake it for believing them, "I see, interesting."

Clearing her throat, Tsukiakari glanced around, "Um, what about what just happened? With the Dementors attacking?"

With his eyes narrowed, Dumbledore made people back away from the aura that he was giving off. One that stated, in no uncertain terms, that he was utterly livid with what happened, "I am quite wondering that myself, as it turns out."

Knuckles cracking as she clenched her hands hard, the head of the DMLE snarled, "Something that I am going to get to the bottom of. And if I do not like what I am about to find... someone is going to lose their heads."

Smile turning somewhat bloodthirsty, Juuchi internally chuckled, 'Perhaps, I will help.'

Turning towards Dumbledore, Tsukiakari nodded towards Harry and Sirius, "Perhaps we should get them back up to the castle to be looked after? After everything that has happened..."

Dumbledore nodded before they began to make their way towards Hogwarts, only stopping to help Reivana to her feet and bring her along as well. The weary Re-Class noticed that Porta's consciousness retreated, though it left behind a feeling that she was proud of her that made the Abyssal smile.

Meanwhile, many hundreds of miles away, Porta slumped a bit in her throne as distant booms of battle could be heard. Wiping her face with a hankerchief that OLD handed her, she shook her head, "That was..." With a deep breath, she held out her hand was handed a glass of water that she greedily drank from before gasping, "Demon, make a note. As soon as possible I shall need to write a letter to my neice. I was... wrong, to be so dismissive of what she had gone through."

Despite not being visible, one still had the feeling that Ocean Liner was raising an eyebrow, "Oh?"

Slowly, Porta let out a sigh, "Yes." Pulling her hand away from her face, her eyes had an understanding look, "If that was what she had faced, then I cannot blame her in any way for retreating. And, more than that... to keep together what she did of her fleet, I count that as being impressive in the face of what Reivana just faced, especially for a Petty Princess such as her."

Bowing, the other Abyssal hummed, "I see..."

Porta then lifted her face and gave OLD a look, with her expression one full of wrath, "As well, spread this Order from Us to the rest of the Fleet. These... Dementors, offend me. Deeply at that. They stand under the Hand of Death from those belonging to us wherever they may be."

A deep chuckle came from OLD at that as lightning flashed, "It shall be done, my Lady..."
______________________________________________________________

Setting Harry down in the bed, Tsukiakari smiled softly at him. Despite what could have happened, he was alright. Gently, she brushed some hair from his brow which made him quietly mumble. Her eyes though caught sight of something glinting and her eyes narrowed, "Senpai?"

With a hum from where she sat in a chair, Juuchi looked up at her, "Yeah, Tsu-Chan? What is it?"

Not saying anything at first, the Kyu Gunto looked at where Pomfrey was fussing over Sirius before she pulled something away from Harry and placed into her pocket, "Watch over Master for a little bit. I need to do something..."

Eyes narrowing, Juuchi only nodded some, "Of course I will." As the other sword turned to leave, she softly whispered, "Be careful."

Looking over her shoulder, Tsukiakari smiled, "I will, Senpai."

It was less than forty minutes that found her flying on Harry's Firebolt, shooting over the Scottish Highlands as her eyes scanned the ground below. The brush and moors passed by at well over two hundred miles an hour as she used a trick that Ian had during WWI to push brooms past their speed limits. In front of her, there was a shimmering cone pushing the air aside. Finally, her eyes caught sight of the Dementors and she slowed down. One hand on the broom, she pulled out her phone with the other and pulled up an app. Using it, she noted her location and continued to follow the Dementors as they travelled below her before grumbling a bit.

They were not even attempting to hide their movements beside moving along fast.

After several more taps on her phone, noting locations which confirmed their direction, she moved away and landed. Pulling the time turner from her shirt, she gave it a flick and watched as time turned back around her. The Sun slowly rose above the horizon and she nodded before flying to a nearby road.

Once she was there, she shrunk the broom and stuck out her sheathed blade. With a bang, the Knight Bus was there and she stepped onboard, "Godric's Hollow, if you would..."

Several hours later, as the Sun was setting, Tsukiakari set down with Catherine behind her on the broom. Getting off it, the French blade looked around with a frown, "Is this where they shall be?"

Tsukiakari grimaced a bit, "I am unsure, but assuming that they do not move too far from their course? Yes, they should be coming this way..." She paused for a moment and continued, "Or close enough..."

Just nodding, Catherine smiled thinly, "Yes, close enough. I shall be irresistible to them, I would assume." Taking a deep breath, she let it out, "Very well, go Tsukiakari and I shall deal with the threats to our Master. They have attempted to prevent him from crossing over when it is his time, and that is unforgivable."

Bowing deeply, Tsukiakari got back onto the broom and took off, "Good luck."

All the French blade did was nod and pull out her sheathed sword before holding it in front of her with the point barely buried in the ground. Leaning forward, she placed her forehead against the pommel and began to softly whisper as she prayed and fortify herself for what would come...
_____________________________________________________________

The chill, night wind of the Scottish Highlands swept over the ground, blowing the young heather. Above, the Moon broke through the clouds illuminating the Earth beneath, in particular one young woman with blonde hair and the clothes of a peasant from the Hundred Years War. Before her, a sword was sheathed in it's scabbard against whose pommel she rested her forehead against. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked into the distance at the approaching cloud of darkness...
Dementors.

Somehow, despite the darkness of the night, and the distance, she could see them. Or, rather, she could sense them upon the wind. For a few moments, she stayed there in that position before rising and gripping her sword's hilt, her true form. Eyes narrowing, she frowned, which upon a face such as hers was worse then a scowl, "Foul beings... you do not belong on this World under His skies. You who have threatened my Master with preventing him from moving on when his time comes."

Far away, Azkaban blinked and turned her attention to her "Children" with a small frown as the woman's voice was carried upon the wind, the distance not mattering at all. Head tilted to the side, she giggled as the small child she appeared to be, malice glowing in her eyes, "Oh my... looks like we have a new playmate." With a twirl of her fingers, she sent a mental command and her Dementors changed their path slightly more towards the woman. So full of light, of warmth, of love and courage...

Things that they hungered for deeply, especially after the battle that they were in.

Giggling, madness in her eyes, Azkaban grinned far wider than a human could showing sharpened teeth more like fangs as her eyes glowed malevolently in the darkness, "We're going to have such fun~"

However, Catherine was not bothered at all even though she sensed their intent. Instead, she only nodded, "I see. Very well, perhaps He shall have Mercy upon you, for I can not in the face of such darkness." Light began to shine from where her hilt met the sheath, while her clothes also began to glow and break apart as if on fire.

But as they burned away, embers trailing and being carried off by the night wind, they revealed armour underneath her clothing, breastplate that shone under the Moon and Stars with it's own inner light. Meanwhile, the darkness of the Dementors began to increase as Azkaban focused more of her power. Eyes closed for a moment, she took a deep breath and let it out, "Here I plant my standard... and here I stand."

With those words, they were almost upon her and she drew her blade, which burned brightly with light and swung it at the Dementors as the area lit up.

And far away, Azkaban, who was still connected to the Dementors, widened her eyes and she screamed as her avatar collapsed in agony. As she writhed on the roof of the prison whose spirit she was, smoke rose from her body.

Meanwhile, in Scotland, the light faded to reveal scorched ground with some fluttering pieces of cloak to reveal that no less than forty of the monsters were dead. They were not even disintegrated as not even smoke remained. But even as the first scrap of cloth touched the ground, Catherine was already moving, eyes as steely as her true body. Swinging, she easily cleaved through two of the Dementors which did not even have time to scream as they just broke apart and disappeared into motes of light.

They were not the last either, as Catherine less fought and more danced between them. Moonlight glinted and flowed off her blade as she struck again and again, Dementor after Dementor dying as their bodies were first cut and then burst apart into motes of light.

Out of the corner of her eye, the French blade spotted one of the Dementors flying up into the sky so to escape. Gripping her hilt, she threw it as hard as she could. As it passed above the Dementor, she reappeared and grabbed her true body and brought it down. cleaving the dark creature in half. Pushing off it's dissolving remains, she launched herself to the next flying one. Behind her, the cape she wore seemed to look like to, large white wings which glowed much the same as her armor in the moonlight as gold hair streamed behind her with her shining blade held before her.

Eventually, the Dementors managed to break from her and took off as fast as they could. Rather than pursue, Catherine stood upon the top of a hill and held her true self at arms length, pointed towards the fleeing monsters as her lips moved. Eyes narrowing, her sword began to glow brighter and brighter as did her armor and cape. Said cape spread behind her in the wind as the light shone greater and greater. Until, it seemed, like a star itself had fallen and come to rest upon that hill.

Instead of what one would expect though, Catherine yanked her true self back. And the results... were instantaneous as the distant Dementors screeched. The reason for which was obvious as mere moments later, small blue orbs made of light burst from their backs. First one or two each, and then dozens.
Souls, that they had eaten over their existences.

And it was not just them, as in Azkaban, the Spirit of the Prison screamed once more as her back arched towards the sky. The evil being clawing at her own chest as light after light escaped from it, from the torment that she had it. Souls dating back to when she first built by the Dark Lord Ekrizdis to torture Muggle sailors and others he caught. A practical tornado streaming out of her and into the sky.

The last ones eventually escaped her and Azkaban slumped back onto the roof, blood trailing from her mouth. Not dead, not yet, but weakened. Mouth moving, she whispered, "One day... one day... I will kill you, and feast upon your soul..."

In Scotland, Catherine only stood straighter as the last rescued soul vanished into the Afterlife, which ever one would meet her. Wind blowing her hair, the Sword spirit narrowed her eyes, "You may try, Demon." She then slid her true self back into her sheath as her armour was replaced by the dress she wore, "You may try..."

 

[darthcourt10]

Barricade/Lord Sunhawk: Taffy Three SECRET ATTACK!

Was re-reading some old stuff in other kancolle stories, and spotted this. Pray that the Taffies are never portrayed being group summoned in a movie, because this will be it. And likely enough, done to Born To Be Wild playing blaring in the background.

Lord Sunhawk (I grabbed this from his SV version) said:
Thirteen girls stood on the now calm waters of the summoning pool. The American summoning pool. They weren't all the same size, there were six that looked like they'd just started high school, three that looked like they belonged in junior high, and four that looked like fifth or sixth graders at most. But they were all dressed nearly the same.

Ragged cut off old-style dungarees with threads hanging everywhere, the fabric brutally cut right above the knee. Ribbed mechanics style t-shirts that were nonetheless scrupulously clean, black leather belts with battered steel American Eagle belt buckles and looped chains hanging from them held up their pants. They all had black leather motorcycle jackets with tarnished studs on all the seams on, with American flag patches on the shoulders and brightly colored patches up and down the arms, and all but one were wearing crushed down baseball caps. They all had on mirror reflective shades, and the one without the ball cap was wearing what looked to have started life as an admirals cover, but had been sat on and run through the wash a few times, and worn at a cocky angle.

The six older girls had small flight decks attached to their upper left arms, and slingshots were tucked into their belts with one of them also having a comically oversized for her frame magnum revolver tucked alongside. The younger girls were all carrying what looked like miniature 5"38 single turrets in their right hands while torpedo tubes were strapped to their thighs.

And on the backs of their jackets, where any proper biker gang would put their logo, was a single word. Taffy.

The building was empty. The lights were out. But that didn't slow the girls down one bit. They strode out of the pool like a conquering army striding ashore using their radars to navigate in the darkness. The doors to the summoning chamber were locked, and even that didn't slow them down as they simply kicked them open without breaking stride or even bothering to try the handles. The lights were on in the hallway but there still was nobody present, thus the group didn't hesitate at all as they stalked through the halls with purpose. The locked doors leading outside met the same fate as the ones in the summoning chamber.

None of them said a word. None of them had to say a word. The six escort carriers lifted their slingshots and fired causing squadrons of Wildcats to appear as they set up a CAP purely on instinct. The three destroyers led the way in a wedge, while the carriers formed up in two lines of three and two of the destroyer escorts flanked each line. It was dark outside, but none of them bothered to take off their sunglasses. They were on shore, none of them bothered to dismiss their rigging.

While there was absolutely no activity around this building, next door was the main summoning facility used by the JMSDF and there was plenty of activity there. It was only a matter of moments before the girls were noticed as they marched, or more accurately swaggered, towards the milling sailors and marines. With their rigging still deployed, there was absolutely no mistaking them for anything else, and a wave of consternation spread through the crowd leaving the supposedly 'failed' summoning.

"I guess we should use your resources for the summoning more often, Sir, if that will get us American reinforcements." The Japanese officer commented with a somewhat wry twist to his lips. "I'm not sure I recognize them, destroyers and small carriers? I guess we have some convoy escorts."

The admiral, meanwhile, shook his head. "If they are who I think they are…" he looked over towards where Nagato was practically quivering and nodded. "They aren't exactly convoy escorts." He gestured towards the battleship girl, who looked torn between running away, massive disapproval, and a quivering eagerness to hug the cuteness that was approaching.

Spotting the unmistakable uniform of a US Navy admiral, who had been attending the attempted summoning as a guest, the girls drew themselves up into slouching approximations of what could vaguely, if you squinted really really hard and the light was awful, be considered attention.

One of the carriers, the one in the lead of the right column wearing the crushed admiral's hat, tossed back a sloppy, almost negligent and arrogant, salute. "USS Fanshaw Bay, CVE-70, and Taffy-3" she began, then consulted a small notecard she'd been handed by one of the destroyer girls and began reading from it a bit hesitantly. "Reporting ready to kick some fucking ass and chew some fucking bubblegum." At that all of the Taffies immediately and simultaneously popped a stick of chewing gum into their mouths. "And that was the last of our fucking bubblegum." And she put the card away as she chewed her gum and all the girls struck what they clearly thought were suitably badass poses, although the actual result was more along the lines of 'cute little girls cosplaying a hardcore biker gang'.

Admiral Michel Arnoult-Sauvé-Waggaman, generally known as Admiral Anti-Sub amongst his friends and colleagues, Old Three-Names amongst those who didn't like him, and generally went with just the first of his massively hyphenated surnames professionally; was resisting the urge to smirk at the reactions of the Japanese officers around him at that declaration. The old Cajun seadog stepped forward, hands clasped lightly behind his back, before returning the salute nearly as casually as it was offered. He did blink, however, when he noted that on each of the girls' jackets they had a ship patch, complete with designations, and while the CVE's simply crossed out the letter E, the destroyers and destroyer escorts had crossed out their prefixes and overwritten them with BB in bright sparkly pink glitter ink.

He shook his head, bemused. "You can dismiss your rigging, ladies." He said. "Most of you survived the war so you know we are now allies with Japan."

The lead destroyer… errrr battleship. "But… you know those Japanese battleships, they can sneak up on you at any time!"

Michel was about to reply to that when suddenly a wild Kongo appeared, dropping down right into the middle of the formation of Taffies.

"SOME NEW PEOPLE DESS! KONGO! WELCOMES! YOU!" she proudly declaimed as the smaller girls scattered slightly to surround her.

"GET HER!" One of the destroyers yelled. He wasn't sure, but thought it was Johnston.

He almost panicked, this could be a disaster. "BE…." He broke off, as the girls' rigging vanished and all 13 girls of Taffy 3 swarmed Kongo in what looked like the prelude to a rather impressive tickle pile.

One destroyer head popped up briefly "Told you so." Then vanished back into the pile, punctuated by shrieking giggles and yells of 'dess' and 'Burning Love will prevail!'.

He was still shaking his head as the Japanese captain stepped up next to him. "Welcome to the club of those in command of kanmasu, Admiral." The younger man said a bit drolly. "Admiral Goto is considering forming support groups with regular meetings off base."

Michel sighed and nodded, rocking back on his heels for the moment. "Well, tell him that I do believe I'll join him for that." He winced as the rest of the Kongo sisters appeared and promptly were dragged into the grand tickling melee. "Definitely will join him for that."​

 

[darthcourt10]

Savato93

Millie held her surgical mask to her face as sparks flew all around her, uncaring of the blinding light in front of her. Her mother stood beside her, watching her as she worked. "I'm not going too fast, am I…?" She asked. "Too slow?"

Nuri shook her head. "No, you're doing just fine. You've got the right filler metal, your welds are nice and deep, and you're controlling the heat well enough to prevent destabilizing the weld joint. Of course, we'll need to grind the welds down a bit later, smooth them out, but in the meantime let's prioritize function over form."

"Alright."

The Mi-class looked off to her side, taking in the patchwork of hastily-fastened plates that had kept the Omega from sinking en route to their island. A large chunk of the starboard-side hull was now completely gone, cut away to open up the engineering spaces for restoration; the rest of the hull was being worked on a little bit at a time, all the deteriorated exterior metal and temporary welds slowly being replaced with fresh, sturdy steel. This hull restoration was an ideal live trial for Millie—if she messed up, she could just cut the bad part away and try again. It was really quite relaxing.

{Hey…} Regalia's voice came in through the radio. She had time to spare today, so she'd chosen to lend a hand by hunting any faulty circuits on the interior of the yacht. {I think I'm in the galley, but I can't see anything in here. No windows. Do you guys think you could turn on the power?}

Tilting her head curiously, Millie shifted her focus to one of her other tails… which extended deep into the hull, through the hole beside her. Her gaze seemed to shimmer, the steel in front of her replaced with a vision of countless switches and indicator lights. Her tail was hooked into the power lines extending from the ship's old generator, letting her power parts of the ship herself. She silently counted off the breakers in her head, before eventually instructing her imps to flip a specific switch on. "Okay, did that do it?" She asked.

{...almost. You lit up the hallway behind me.} Millie hung her head sheepishly, before telling her crew to flip the next breaker down. {There we go. Thanks!} There was a few seconds of silence, before Regalia spoke up once more. {You know, Aunt Sonata said this boat was in an overall terrible condition… but on the inside, she doesn't seem any worse than you'd expect from a ship her age. There's deterioration here and there, and the generators are shot, yeah… but the electrical systems are more or less intact, and some touching-up would have everything else looking just fine, to me!}

Nuri shrugged. "Sounds fair enough. You find the bad socket yet?"

{Oh, one moment… yeah, yeah, I think I—}

Millie suddenly felt a literal static spark run down her tail. In her peripheral vision, she saw the galleys breaker abruptly flip off.

When Regalia resumed speaking, she sounded mildly upset. {...oh, great. Tippy got too close to a toaster, and next thing I knew there was a flash and the lights went out again. My butt hurts, too.}

"Are you alright?" Millie asked, worried.

{Yeah, we're fine. Tippy is less than happy about getting shocked though.} Her reply was followed by a disgruntled bark the Mi-class could hear from all the way outside. {...wait, do you taste orange the fruit, or orange the color…?} Another bark. {Yes, the difference matters! One means you're hungry, the other means your brain is fried!}

Millie and Nuri shared a chuckle. "I don't think you need to worry too much about your cousin," Nuri said. "She's got some impressive resilience for her age. She'll probably walk off an electrocution no big deal."

"To be expected of a Re-class." Millie nodded, though she maintained her smile. "I just hope that she doesn't do it too much, else she might accumulate some real nerve damage…"

It happened so quickly, Millie had no time to react. In an instant, the mirthful atmosphere around them died… subsumed in a storm of negative emotion that chilled the fledgling to her core even from a great distance.

Fear… Worry… Rage… And at its heart, the unfamiliar IFF of a Princess-class Abyssal.

"Wh-what… what is that…?" Millie whimpered, unconsciously clinging to her mother for comfort.

"Mother." Nuri maintained her composure better than the Mi-class… but only barely. "Something's happened."

 

[darthcourt10]

RCNAnon

Weasley's Warship Workshop 3

"Sorry we didn't get to talk much before things got started Angie. I wanted to ask how you were doing." Ron looked up to the large woman, her coveralls still covered in oil and grease despite the fact he was rather certain she'd not done anything heavy during the procedure. The pair were walking out of the repair baths along with Duke after Summer had finished with the Battleship Princess.

"It is no matter Ron, Summer had something important to give you and repairing a damaged abyssal is very much her territory. I was happy to watch and corroborate some of those American reports they've passed around." Angie shook her dirty brown head cheerfully and patted Ron on the back with a thump that nearly caused him to stumble. "I am doing well though, thanks to you and your friends. Especially since the repair baths have been finished."

Ron smiled and nodded. "I heard they were working better for you than the ones at Portsmouth?"

"A little bit my friend, perhaps 5-10% faster on most things. Not enough to truly exclaim that things are best only done here but not inconsiderable either." Angie nodded to herself. "I believe it is because the pool is ah… "Home" as you might say. So I am more attuned to it."

"That does make sense." Ron nodded along. "I take it you're having no issues with the Royal Navy then?"

"No no no." Angie waved her hand in front of her face. "Not the officers at least. They are quite pleased to see me, even if one or two are upset that I eat so much." Angie grinned at that. "But a woman like me needs lots of fuel to work so they are quiet. What I am having trouble with are those stubborn battleships."

"The battleships?" Ron asked, cocking his head to the side as the two were about to enter the back door.

"Ja like Ms. Duke. She is perhaps not as bad as some but they are all stubborn about their repairs." Angie switched into a falsetto as they made their way to the kitchen. "No Angie, I am fine. Please ignore the GAPING HOLE in my side and take care of the little ones yes?" Angie snorted. "As often as not the little ones are merely rattled and scuffed. They are quick to heal and recover. Battleships, with their silly pride and honor try to hide the fact they are leaking oil or down a boiler if they can. I am your repair ship! I care not about your pride only that you are healthy for the next sortie!" Angie gave her head one last large shake as if she was a queen pronouncing and edict that had just finished.

"I… uhm..." Duke started to speak but then stopped almost immediately.

"You were about to say that you did not think you were that bad ja?" Angie turned to look at Duke.

"Yes, I was." Duke couldn't help but smile wryly. "Until I remembered some of my sisters and even myself in certain situations."

"You are one of the good ones then. You at least recognize you have a problem." Angie was clearly satisfied at that and Ron couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm reminded of Warspite before I fixed her. She was just a little bit stubborn about her injuries."

It was Duke's turn to chuckle.

"That is like saying water is wet Ron but you have a point."

As they entered the kitchen Ron spotted Victoria in a state he'd never seen her in before. She actually looked mildly frazzled, what with several of her hairs out of place and the pinch of her eyebrows set close enough to be visible.

"Victoria, is something wrong?" Ron called out to the maid, causing her to look up immediately.

"Young Master." Victoria turned towards him immediately, the look of worry and the stray hairs somehow disappearing as a mask of calm appeared on her face. "I… there is not a problem per-say but..." There was a pause as Victoria collected her thoughts. "You do not know anyone who would perchance pull a low joke on you involving a harlot?"

"I… what? No." Ron was startled by the question, "Nobody that I can think of. Harry and Hermione don't have that sense of humor and Fred and George would get killed by my mother."

Victoria took a deep breath, clearly having expected an answer like that while desperately wanting it not to be.

"Then I am obliged to report that I believe the French… Guest..." Ron knew immediately that Victoria wanted to put "Harlot" there but was too focused to. "You are expecting is at the front gate. On a motorbike."

Ron wasn't sure which part Victoria disapproved of more, the fact that whatever Jean-Bart looked like did not meet her standards or the fact that she was on a motorcycle.

"Well then we should let her in." Ron knew that was what Victoria didn't want to hear but this was a request directed at him by a British ally through formal military channels. Not something he could avoid simply because Victoria didn't think the best of her.

"Yes Master." Victoria bowed her head formally and Ron could feel something happening in the meantime.

"Thank you Victoria. Will you prepare something for us? I think this is going to be a long meeting."

Victoria bowed her head, clearly relieved to be doing something more familiar so she could ignore what was coming up the drive.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

On the road, fifteen minutes earlier.

Jean-Bart grinned as her hair whipped behind her, the engine on her BMW S1000RR howling beneath her. She couldn't open it up to the full throttle given the road shape and condition but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Say what you wanted about German shipbuilding but they did great motorcycles. At least this way she could reach some proper speeds.

Her mind turned towards her worries for a moment, of what Ronald Weasley might say about her condition. He'd repaired Warspite that was undeniable and he seemed to have an understanding of engineering far beyond his age. Yet she had no knowledge of anything like her particular condition happening elsewhere and if he had no ideas…

She shook herself mentally. That was no way to think at a time like this. Not when the sun was out and she had a free road to work with. Things like worrying about showing her rig could happen later when they were about to occur.

Instead she opened up the throttle more, wondering if she could find a spot flat, long and empty enough to try and hit close to the top speed. Probably not but she could hope.

Ten minutes later she pulled up to a stop, having not found the stretch of road she wanted but still managing to have pushed herself over 120KPH for one last burst of speed before she'd gotten to the manor house.

As she did pull up she had to admit that it was impressive in its own way. An old style to be sure, square even from a distance but the yards were relatively well tended and there appeared to be someone out and working on them from what she could see. However for some reason the gate was closed and she didn't see a button to press for a bell or entrance. Frustrated for a moment she considered simply driving around the thing as there wasn't a fence around the whole manor but she go the feeling that would be a bad idea, for multiple reasons.

Thankfully the thing finally opened after a couple minutes. Perhaps there was a timer on the thing? She shook her head as she pulled up the drive, the engine beneath her barely murmuring while her own boilers were steadily building pressure she had no release for. As she reached the front door she saw it open and several people stepped out.

The first one she noticed was the battleship. Not quite as tall as her and not quite as fast, the KGV class was still a respectable foe. Rather, she would have been if there had ever been a chance of France and Great Britain coming to blows. The blonde's hair was just about at length with hers and that brought a small grin to her face as her fellow ship of the line examined her with respect in turn. Perhaps they could talk about the issues of having quadruple turrets and long hair some time.

The second was the maid. Of moderate height and relatively nondescript build, she looked average. Even her hair was somehow average despite being just slightly more blonde than brown. Yet that wasn't what caught her eye. Instead it was the look she was getting from her. Oh it was perfectly polite enough. Yet she'd had enough people disapprove of the way she dressed and acted that she could tell she would find no friend there.

Finally the one she'd actually come to see. He was… still young. His face at least and his height still spoke of growing through the awkward stages of puberty. Shaggy red hair on top of his head and dressed appropriately for meeting a guest. Yet it was his eyes that changed her immediate opinion of him. For they were much more mature than what a boy his age would normally have and he was not leering at her. Nor was he even apparently shocked by her outfit. That could be both good or bad but she was leaning towards good.

As she stood from her bike and let it settle, she could feel his eyes on her. She thought for a moment he was ogling her while she wasn't paying attention but as she turned and started walking towards them his eyes stayed, watching her walk. That was also strange. Still she forced her face into a more polite arrangement as she got close and opened her mouth.

"Hello. I am Jean-Bart, second ship of the Richelieu class. I am here to meet Ronald Weasley."

Of course she didn't know those words would change the course of her life.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ron's first impression of Jean-Bart was that she was… different.

Standing on the front step to meet their guest along with Duke and Victoria gave him a good view of the French battleship as she arrived on a sleek looking motorcycle and settled herself on the drive.

For one, most of his experience was with British battleships. He'd met a few Japanese ones when he'd gone to see Harry over the summer but Nagato had been just as proud and regal as any of Duke or Warspite's sisters and he'd only seen the others for a brief time. While Jean-Bart certainly had a presence of her own it was subtly different than the rest.
*-*-*
Spoiler: Jean-Bart plus explanation

Alright, so this is default Jean-Bart look. In the HatSG verse she has a bit less cleavage showing and her shorts are Magical Ship-girl Short Shorts. They cover all of her aft to her leg. No more no less and you'll never be able to see a curve there but you might imagine it. Still plenty to get a Victorian maid's dander up over.
*-*-*

It wasn't her outfit. For all that her shorts were nearly as short as the swimsuit bottoms Duke had worn in Japan or that her top showed off plenty of cleavage, he'd seen worse. The piratical them she seemed to be sporting overall was no odder than the maid outfits a few of the British cruisers wore, though the thigh high sock on one leg and the long boot on the other made her look slightly lopsided she wore it well nonetheless.

It wasn't her looks either. While part of Ron was informing him that her legs went up and up and up… it was a small part that he easily suppressed. If he'd not seen a ship-girl before it would have been different of course but between Warspite, Duke and his many times at the naval base he was as thoroughly inoculated against shipgirls looks as a man could realistically be. Her long brown hair was drawn up in a ponytail similar to Duke's, going down behind her aft though not quite to the ground like Duke's could do. That probably had something to do with how tall she was, a couple inches taller than Duke at least. Her eyes were striking, being a reddish pink but they fit her like the rest of her outfit did.

It was only when she started walking towards them that Ron's tickling senses finally clued in and kicked him in the rear. Jean-Bart had a runners grace, one that if he'd seen them in person would have reminded him of the Iowa class of the Americans. At least she was supposed to. If he'd not noticed Duke's injury earlier he might have missed it but Jean-Bart had a hitch in her step. It wasn't anything major, a subtle thing that he could just barely see much less pinpoint.

Yet it was there and because of that or perhaps only in part, Jean-Bart had the appearance of a battleships normal grace but it was a front. A veneer covering up something she'd rather not have anyone else see.

Of course then she was right in front of them and he had no more time to ponder.

"Hello. I am Jean-Bart, second ship of the Richelieu class. I am here to meet Ronald Weasley." Her voice was mild, forward if not rude and she looked him right in the eye as she spoke.

"A pleasure to meet you Jean-Bart. I am Ronald Weasley but please feel free to call me Ron. This is Duke of York of the King George V class and this is Victoria Passell, the head maid. Would you like to come inside? We have some refreshments made up and we can sit comfortably while we talk."

Ron fell back on formality for a moment, his mind still not quite sure how to process Jean-Bart and her attitudes. She didn't seem mean spirited to him at least which meant that he could work with her.

The brunette paused for a moment and nodded.

"Yes, that would be welcome thank you." Jean-Bart seemed perhaps slightly off put by his welcome but he wasn't sure if it was his reaction of if she'd been expecting something different.

Ron lead the way inside, with Victoria taking up the rear. They'd prepared a sitting room again, this time less formally but still with two chairs for Ron and Duke with another for Jean-Bart. There were sandwiches prepared and some lemonade in place of the mornings tea. The three settled down for a moment, items being passed around until everyone was waiting.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you want to meet me?" Ron spoke after setting down his glass. "It's an honor to meet you of course but Admiral Whitcomb didn't say anything else about it other than you wanted to talk."

Jean-Bart paused for a few moments, her eyes focused somewhere on the floor before they rose up to meet Ron's.

"Please understand that this is difficult for me to talk about. I am… private, about my issues since I do not like to… bother people about them if there is nothing they can do."

Ron nodded, settling back in his chair as Jean-Bart spoke.

"I understand. I take it that you think I can do something to help you? Whatever it is?"

Jean-Bart nodded in turn.

"Yes. You are the best… no, the only person that I have found that may be able to do so. Understand I've been looking since I've come back, nearly three years now, for a fix and have found nothing. The repair baths do nothing and even the repair ship I consulted could not. At least she did not think so since the baths would be required for her help."

Ron's mind rapidly put together the pieces of what she was saying into a mostly coherent picture.

"You have an engineering problem you want me to help with? Something to do with your engines?"

Jean-Bart's eyes widened in surprised.

"Yes, how did you…?" She frowned for a moment. "Somebody told you."

Ron shook his head.

"No, you have… a hitch in your step. Or perhaps I should say you have a missing stroke in your engine where you're expecting power to be but it isn't."

Jean-Bart met Ron's eyes as the chair creaked in her hand.

"Truly you did not know this beforehand? Were not told anything?"

Ron nodded.

"I just noticed it in the way you walked, I swear. I don't know what exactly it is but between that and me only being good at one thing..." Ron shrugged.

Duke looked over at Ron and snorted, a clear sign of disapproval at his statement.

"If I may ask… how can you be so certain?" Jean-Bart clearly wanted to believe Ron but she was having trouble doing so. "You are not wrong but it could simply be a wise guess even if what you say about not being told beforehand is true."

Ron looked back to Duke and smiled slightly.

"Do you mind Duke or should I do Warspite instead?"

Duke blushed and shook her head in the negative, even as Jean-Bart looked between the two in mild confusion.

"No, you can show her Ron. I don't mind." Her voice was somewhat soft but there was definitely a note of pride in it.

"Victoria." Ron called out, the maid stepping from the corner she'd been in to hand him a pen and paper she'd gotten from somewhere.

"Thank you." Ron pulled the nearby table closer to him and grabbed the straight edge he'd taken to sticking in his pocket. "This will take a couple minutes." He looked to Jean-Bart for a moment before he began to draw.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jean-Bart watched first in confusion, then in comprehension and finally in amazement as the teenager in front of her worked.

At first she didn't understand what he was doing, the lines and markings he was drawing meaning nothing to her. It wasn't until she saw the multiple notations he was making as he went that she started to understand. Finally when she did understand and saw him complete what he was working on she was amazed.

It was a yard quality diagram of a boiler room, with top and side views included on it. Judging by the blush on Duke of York's face, it was hers and Ronald, Ron, had done it without looking at anything. Without speaking to anyone about it. Just off the top of his head.

He finished the diagram, looked at it and then offered it to the British battleship.

"What do you think Duke, pretty good?" He spoke as if he'd simply drawn her a picture instead of a detailed work on her interior.

"Yes." Duke of York smiled as she held it for a moment and her hand touched the boys, affection clear. "Here." She handed it over to Jean-Bart.

Jean-Bart looked at the drawing closely as she held it in hand. She tried to find anything at all wrong with the drawing. Even if she didn't know her British counterparts exact dimensions she could tell if it was more or less right simply by the way it was setup.

It was as far as she could tell, perfect down to the last marking. Perhaps even better than a builders print if such a thing were possible.

She handed the print back to Duke, who carefully took the item and set it on the table next to her.

"You can do that from memory." It was a statement from her and not a question. "For her."

"I did an entire book for Warspite. Stem to stern and keel to aerials." A return statement from the boy. Not a boast, just an assertion. "I needed to know that so I could fix her. I can do more for Duke but not quite everything yet. Her turrets are my main concern but it wouldn't be fair if I didn't do the same."

Jean-Bart felt part of her warm at the thought of somebody knowing her that well, even as she watched the long haired blonde in front of her clasp the boy… no he was too mature for that, the hand of the young man in front of her.

"I believe you." She said, feeling a ball of tension somewhere in her boilers release. "I do." She felt the barest of smiles come onto her face. "Which means I think you can actually help."

Ron nodded, leaning forward. "Then what exactly is it I need to do?"

Jean-Bart paused, her mind racing as she thought of all the things wrong with her.

"I think perhaps I should show instead of simply tell."

"The repair pool then? You should be able to rig up there."

Jean-Bart nodded, even as she was surprised at the casual mention of a repair pool on the property. "Yes, I think that's appropriate."

Ron nodded again and stood up. "Lets go then."

As she stood, Jean-Bart matched eyes with Duke of York for a moment. They didn't say anything but Jean-Bart thought that the British ship understood where she was coming from. Perhaps she did know what was wrong with her. If she did she hadn't said anything… and she clearly believed in him.

That was enough for her.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
AN: Wew another long one. There should be one more part with all of this before I go onto other things but I hope you are all still enjoying. Questions, comments, concerns welcome as always.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts Omake: After Battle Pun-ishment

Have an omake:
__________________________________

Cooler swinging from his hand, the now twenty five year old Harry whistled a bit before walking into the area of the base given over to repairing allied Abyssals. Walking in, he could see Regina laid out as Hoppou bustled around. At seeing him, Regina brightened some, "Harry? What are you doing here?"

Reaching her, Harry gently kissed her before stroking her hair, "Partially coming by to check up on you." Even as the blushing Re-Class looked up at him, he continued, "Shinano-Chan said that you got somewhat banged up during the last battle."

From where she was gathering tools, Hoppou smiled a bit, "Yes, Big Brother. Some bangs and dings for the most part, easy fix for Hoppou! But.... one part will be a bit harder for Hoppou."

With a hum, Harry looked over at Regina's arm... or what was left of it since a heavy shell had blown it apart at the elbow. Seeing the Abyssal look down a bit, he had a twinkle in his eye as he shook his head, "I suppose that you were... disarmed then."

Giggles escaped the Re-Class even as the small Princess shook her head. As she got herself under control, Regina gave him a look, "Harry, that's not funny."

At his raised eyebrow, she looked away with a blush. If anything, that made his eyebrow raise still further, "You giggled at it."

Chewing her lip, Regina was silent before looking at him, "Um, well, I guess it was kind of funny..."

In reply, Harry gave her another kiss, this one she leaned into. Pulling back, he chuckled, "I'm glad to hear your giggles, Regina. Almost as beautiful as you."

While the Abyssal blushed and giggled again, Hoppou rolled her eyes, 'Big Brother is silly.' It was then that she remembered something and gave him an odd look, "Wait..." Turning, she gave him an odd look, "Big Brother stated he came down only partially to check on Regina. What other reason is Big Brother here for?"

Slowly, Harry raises the cooler, "Iku-Chan and the other Submarines were in the area and found Regina's arm and brought it back. So I figured on bringing it here." Glancing at the stub, he frowned, 'I wonder if it is bad that this doesn't bother me like it doesn't bother them when they get hurt like this.'

Just sighing, Hoppou smiled, "Thank you, Big Brother. If Hoppou has old arm, easier to fix for Hoppou." As he set down the cooler and opened it to reveal the recovered arm, she tilted her head to the side, "Though Big Brother could have sent someone else to deliver it."

Right then, a familiar twinkle entered his eyes as he lifted the lower arm of the Re-Class from the cooler. Grinning, Harry held it up, "I just figured that I should come by and... give you a hand with this."

Utter silence met him before Regina began madly giggling enough that she fell back. Meanwhile, Hoppou gave him an unamused look before bringing out her squirt bottle and spraying him, "Big Brother too silly."

All Harry did was grin between sputters.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Dumbledore spared a look at the parchment, a copy of one that was within the Ministry itself, "Please tell me that this is some sick joke, Amelia. That what is in front of me does not exist."

A grimace in her face, Amelia shook her head, "I am afraid not, Albus." The Grimace rapidly became a scowl, "But I wish that it was. Especially after how long a night this has been."

Just about to say something, the Headmaster froze as he felt something come down on top of him. A massive weight pressing down. Swallowing, Dumbledore glanced towards the door, "It would seem, Amelia, that things are about to become much longer."

Unable to stop the shivers, Amelia glanced at him even as sweat began to bead on her brow and her instincts screamed at her, "Albus, do you know what that is...?"

For a few moments, the older wizard was silent. However, he finally sighed, "Unless I miss my guess, that would be young Hoppou..." Albus cleared his throat some, "And it would also seem that she is quite... upset."

Under his breath, Kingsley grumbled a little even as he tried not to shake, "That is putting it mildly..."

The Auror didn't notice the look his boss shot him.

It was all rendered moot about ten minutes later as the doors to the Hospital Wing opened to reveal Hoppou standing there with her mother behind her as well as Aeroprin. The little being had an aura of nearly pitch darkness around her as she glared, both red eyes alight with wrath. In her bed where she was nursing another of innumerable mugs of hot chocolate, Reivana froze. Moments later, she scooted as far back into her bed as possible. This was due to how Hoppou was reminding her of Porta when said Princess was enraged beyond anything possible.

Eyes scanning the room, Hoppou spotted the sleeping Harry in a bed. Briefly, her gaze softened before it hardened again and she gestured towards the bed he laid in, "Blackie Smokie? Hoppou wants you to guard Big Brother."

Her own eyes alight in rage, Aeroprin nodded, "Don't worry, Mommy. I will watch over Uncle Harry, watch over Uncle Harry."

Nagato glanced at the Abyssal who only paused to tilt her head at Juuchi, who was eating a blood orange, before sitting on Harry's other side from the sword. More important to the Battleship was Hoppou, who looked moments away from brutally murdering something. Not that she did not understand the feeling. The Kami know that she felt much the same.

Shaking that off though, she took a deep breath before turning to Dumbledore with her eyes narrowed to near slits as she she softly hissed like a sword drawn from it's sheath, "What. Happened."

A frown on his face, Dumbledore's own expression darkened, "Mister Potter was out in Hogsmeade spending the day with his Godfather." Both Nagato and Hoppou glanced at said wizard who was also sleeping, though uneasily, "The Sun was just setting when a large group of Dementors swept in. From what we can tell, Sirius was the true target with Mister Potter and Madam Reivana as... targets of opportunity at best."

Teeth grinding, the Battleship let out a hiss, "And how many... were involved?"

When Dumbledore glanced at her, Amelia let out a hiss of her own, "We are still taking numbers, which might well be hard as a number of bodies are... no longer around. But from what we can tell, the lowest number was that was there when we arrived was at least a hundred. That said..." She let out a sigh and pinched her nose, "We are assuming that perhaps the number was higher, perhaps as many as two hundred."

Utter silence met that statement before Hoppou looked up at him, her eyes glowing in wrath, "Hoppou sees... And how many are left?"

Thinly smiling, Dumbledore chuckled, "Far fewer than two hundred. Mister Potter managed to account for at least half that number, perhaps. Both from his ofuda and a... rather supercharged one that finally broke the Dementors as well as a corporeal Patronus. he created. After that, they fled, though to where, we do not know."'

Suddenly, another voice spoke up, this one soft and yet underlain with steel, "They are heading back to Azkaban though with far fewer of their number with than they started with when they left the village." Everyone looked at the woman in peasant clothing right out of the Hundred Years War with Tsukiakari behind her, "Many of their number no longer darken His Earth."

Eyebrow raised, Dumbledore stroked his beard, "I see, Miss..."

The young woman bowed a little, "Call me Catherine."

Only giving Amelia a look, Albus smiled slightly, "I see, and thank you for that. Do you know how many escaped?"

Humming for a few moments, Catherine gave a slight nod, "About two dozen."

Eyebrow raised, Amelia leaned forward and ran the numbers in her head, "That means, with the total that has remained at Azkaban, there are perhaps, at most, a hundred Dementors if our numbers are correct and assuming there are not more there in the depths... which I am not about to do so."

Just nodding, the Headmaster frowned, "Yes, that does seem to be correct."

With a glance at him, Nagato sat down in a chair and leaned forward, "Why?" At the looks, she gave them one of her own, "Why did they attack Sirius? He is innocent and the Kiss order has been long since rescinded."

No one said anything for a moment before Amelia sighed and handed her a piece of parchment, "Here." When Nagato took it, she continued, "This is the original agreement between the Ministry and the Dementors... and what they are using as their excuse, as it were."

Frowning, the Battleship took the parchment and looked it over. As she did so, her eyebrows furrowed more and more before she looked up, "What, exactly, am I reading here?"

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed the side of his head, "Azkaban was made into a prison by a Minister of Magic called Damocles Rowle. He was... I believe the term would be, a real piece of work. Besides being Authoritarian, he was also a sadist of the highest order. To him, the Dementors driving the prisoners insane and suicidal was not an issue... it was a benefit. Thus, he made an agreement with the Dementors of the prison, whereupon they would be supplied with a steady supply of prisoners to feed upon to their non-existent heart's content."

It was then that Amelia took over, "One of the aspects of the agreement was... that any prisoner placed into the Maximum Security Wing would be in Azkaban until they died and were buried in the graveyard. There was never anything in the agreement about a prisoner found innocent and released." Now looking Nagato in the eye, she grimaced, "Hence, according to them, it does not matter that he was found innocent because by treaty, he is still to be returned to Azkaban or Kissed."

Rubbing her face, Nagato let out a groan, "Please tell me that this is some sort of sick joke. That they are not actually trying to use legalities to explain themselves..."

With a small shrug, the old wizard grimaced and shook his head, "I am afraid that I cannot do so, Miss Nagato. As much as I wish otherwise, it is right there in the treaty. And being as Dementors have a... different... type of mind than almost anything else? Most would accept that they might have... believed such, I am afraid."

Arms of the chair creaking under her mittened hands, Hoppou growled, "Hoppou sees, but is not happy." Looking up at Dumbledore, she continued, "And Hoppou is going to show them what she thinks of them trying to take Big Brother from Hoppou in how they did, and do so in such a way they will not get chance again."

Despite the sweat on his brow, which was odd with how freezing the room had become, Dumbledore nodded, "And I would agree and allow for it. I despise the Dementors personally to be quite honest and would like to see nothing else. But there is a..." For a moment, he searched for a word and finally shrugged, "A few complications, let us say."

Pinching her nose, Madam Bones shook her head, "Albus has explained a muggle term that applies in this case... do you know what MAD is?"

Now looking between them, Nagato frowned, "Mutually Assured Destruction." At their nods, she stood, "You cannot be serious!? Are you stating that destroying the Dementors could cause MAD!?"

A soft mutter of, "No, Sirius is in the bed" made them look at a pink haired Auror who blushed, "Sorry, heard that joke so long that, well..."

Only shaking ehr head, Amelia's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, "I think those of us who know Black were saying it in our heads." Becoming serious again, she turned towards Nagato and Hoppou, "First, you need to hear the story of Azkaban to understand why we say such a thing..."

Looking over his shoulder, Dumbledore conjured a comfy and squishy looking chair with a hole in the back before gesturing at it, "Please, come and have a seat as you will need to report this back to Princess Porta, Miss Reivana." With a look at Hoppou, the Re-Class did so, Stab easily slipping through the hole, "Now, the story starts in the Fifteenth Century with a little known Sorcerer Ekrizdis. Unlike Dark Lords such as Voldemort, Ekrizdis was, thankfully not too concerned with ruling over people. Rather, he was more interested in his studies and experiments, thus built Azkaban for such a purpose from the ground up. A place where he could perform the darkest of magics without being interrupted..."

While he continued to tell the story, the Headmaster was not surprised to see the looks of dismay and disbelief grow on his audience's face. When he was done though, there was silence before Stab spoke up, "Huh... if he was not human, I would have said that both this Ekrizdis and Damocles Rowle would have been perfect matches for Central Atlantic from everything that her Highness has stated. Sadistic and cruel... also stupid."

Eyebrow twitching, Reivana glared at him, "STAB!" Turning back to Dumbledore, she frowned in thought, "So the reason that you are concerned with attacking Azkaban is... because there is things down there that you are frightened of, which you do not know what they are or how powerful they are, and that the Dementors might release if they are attacked?"

Slowly, Dumbledore sighed some, "Yes, that is the fear... One of the things that we have is magical sensors that can measure the levels of dark magic in a place and how many sources as well as general power. They take time to set up... but there has been several times that they have been set up on boats passing by to see what they could get from Azkaban." His expression darkened, "Deeper in than the prison, there are a number of signatures that move around every once in a while. Each one is, at a minimum, equal to a normal Abyssal Princess from the readings taken. What they are, we do not know, but they are some of the darkest, and most powerful readings ever taken. And they have been fed by the misery and other dark emotions produced by the prisoners above. At least one is under the cemetery on the island as well."

Internally cursing, Nagato glanced at the Re-Class who looked stunned. After a moment, Reivana became thoughtful, "That... would be a reason to be worried, I suppose. If such things wake up..."

Leaning forward, the Headmaster was quiet for a few moments, "Which is not to say that there are not... plans in the works." He glanced at the Aurors who also glanced at their boss. Amelia nodded and they left. Once they were outside the door, Dumbledore cast several privacy spells before turning back to them, "We understand that Mister Potter has used Ofuda on several occasions to kill dark creatures, including Dementors. And that, somehow, you are able to use them to enhance your own weapons as shown when you killed a Gashadokuro."

Confused, Stab looked at them in confusion, "A what now?"

A frown on her face, Nagato glanced at him, "A Gashadokuro is what results when hundreds of humans are killed in brutal manner, usually starvation, and leave behind massive grudges.When there is enough bodies in one place from such deaths, they can... consolidate into a massive skeletal being up to eighty feet tall, formed by those grudges and the originating skeletons merged together. Invisible and hungry for blood." Eyes narrowing, she grimaced, "Both myself, Hoppou, and a few others were fighting it and barely managed to kill it. And that was with myself using Purification Ofuda similar to what Harry used to kill the Dementors which boosted my own shells and made them operate in much the same way."

For several moments, Reivana was staring at Nagato and then at Hoppou. Back and forth she went before she paused and her eyes widened some, "Could... something like that be at Azkaban? Or multiple ones?"

When they turned to the Headmaster, he had a pensive look on his face, "I wish that I could say that it would not be possible. Yet... I, cannot. The fact that no one who entered the depths of Azkaban and returned would willingly state what they saw down there besides that the Dementors are the least horrific thing... it is a source of worry."

Eyes closed, Reivana considered what she was being told before opening her eyes and glancing at Nagato, "Would it be possible to get a video of this... Gashadokuro battle? In case Her Highness needs an example?" In return, Nagato gave a small nod and confirmation before the Re-Class turned back to Dumbledore, "You stated that you were working on something though to kill such things?"

Internally sighing in relief, Dumbledore smiled thinly, "Currently, we are working on methods of creating similar effects to what Miss Nagato used with local methods. It is slow going, but... we have worked out some ways of doing so. But in any case, doing so would take time and both us and the RN have agreed that the only way to prevent major issues would be to come with, what is the muggle term? Maximum overkill, I believe." He spread his hands some, "For example, the Saint Class with their Eighteen Inch Guns among others, Monitors, Carriers outfitted with bombs... Not just British shipgirls, but also ones from across Europe." With a glance at Nagato, he gave a slight nod, "And help from the Canadians."

Puzzled, the Battleship frowned before realization came over her face, "Habakkuk. She is able to field normally land based Bombers such as B-17s. Lancasters are another with possible modifications to carry Grand Slam bombs. From my understanding, the Canadians can also offer Halifax who can also launch such aircraft. It should be enough to put down any issues that may be there. But... it will take time to do so."

As Reivana nodded, Dumbledore gave a small smile, "However, as it may be, reparations will be paid due to the attack, I do not think that would be a huge issue. I have some that... may be useful."

Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a box and handed it to her. Confused, Reivana glanced at him before opening it and her eyes widened as her jaw dropped. Hand shaking, she reached in and pulled out a ruby the size of a chicken's egg, "I, uh... there's nine. T-three of these, three sapphires, an-and three emeralds..."

Dumbledore merely nodded, "Yes, that is just one part, but consider this yours no matter what." Getting a nod, he stood and smiled, "I am afraid that there is some business to attend to, you must understand. But I see no issue if you wish to stay and recover further, I will have the house elves bring you any food that you wish."

The Re-Class nodded and just kept boggling at the gemstones in the box, not noticing the odd look on Amelia's face. Seeing the glance, the head of the DMLE followed Dumbledore out as well as Nagato who gave a slight nod to Hoppou. Once they were a distance from any of the other Aurors though, Amelia gave him a frown, "Albus, where did those come from?"

Placing his hands into his sleeves, the Headmaster chuckled, "Mister Potter found a collection of them in a place here in the Castle. However, they all belonged to the goblins thus it does not harm us in the slightest to give her them. And, hopefully, it will calm Princess Porta some when she sees them as I am certain she can find some use."

On one side of him, Nagato hummed even as Amelia shook her head in disbelief. After a few moments, the Battleship frowned, "The... way that they are going to destroy Azkaban, that was not all of what there is, is there?"

Almost a minute went by before Dumbledore sighed and shook his head, "No, I am afraid not. But I felt it best not to mention to Miss Reivana knowing that it could get back to her ruler." Glancing at Nagato, he took a deep breath, "What do you know of HMS Plym?"

It took only seconds for the shipgirl to answer, "HMS Plym? I know of her, she died in a nuclear test much like myself. Though in her case, she died because the warhead was... was..." Coming to a stop, she turned and looked at Dumbledore in disbelief, "Please do not tell me that..."

Grimacing, Dumbledore shook his head, "She came back with the bomb still inside of her. They have disarmed it, thankfully. But the RN is still in possession. If needed... it is to be enhanced with purification capabilities and used against Azkaban. But that decision has not been made quite yet."

Nagato cursed at that and shook her head with a scowl on her face, "Let us hope that it does not."

All she got from Dumbledore was a nod even as Amelia gave a shudder, "Let us hope."

 

[darthcourt10]

NotHimAgain

Well, let's see if we can get this show on the road again. For some reason, I'm feeling the hype today a little more than usual. Maybe I'll have everything done by the weekend?

Nah, too much to hope for. Maybe inside the month.
Flash Back: Little Talks
"Damn it, Xiang!" The Chinese woman stood impassively, glancing down at the flaming box in her companion's hand. The sword (who Xiang secretly referred to as "Cynthia") glanced down, following her gaze. "Oh, right," she said derisively, tossing it away and patting the flames on her hand out. "That. Xiang, I told you to wait for me! What the hell made you decide to ignore that? I—wait…" she glanced back down at her hand, then glanced over at the box, which had sputtered out as soon as it left her hand. "Oh… that's clever. I like these kids."

Xiang rolled her eyes. She tapped Cynthia firmly on the shoulder and, with the older woman's eyes back on her, waved her hands through a series of familiar patterns. "A man came who wants to speak with you. He is one of those people."

Very few people survived with the Holy War Sword of the Scythians long enough to get a feel for her, but Xiang felt that the miniscule jolt that seemed to run down Cynthia's form for that split second was telling. Of course, even if she didn't identify them by name, both of them knew full well who she was talking about.

"You're sure," Cynthia said, voice calm and certain.

"I have never forgotten them, or the feeling of them."

"Well. That changes things." Cynthia crossed her arms, turning away. She glanced over at the box that was lying on the ground, then snorted and turned back to Xiang. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. It's kind of dumb, but I think that we can make this work…"
-----

"You put some kind of tracker on your calligraphy set?" Benio asked, giving Reiko a hard, "interrogation" kind of stare. The jorogumo responded with a half-exasperated, half-pleading look, and Benio recalled that there were strangers around. She shrugged apologetically, and Reiko nodded.

"Two, actually," she admitted. "One on the box itself, and one to… disable magical defenses, kind of, it's like a… uh…" she glanced over at the Scottish girl, who was giving her a stare of her own. "I'm not very good at explaining it," she finished in a near whisper.

"You," the American guy said, glaring at the other girl himself. She side-eyed him, one corner of her mouth quirking upward for a moment before she turned away almost primly. He turned back to Reiko. "So, we can track her now?" he asked.

The miko nodded uncertainly. "Theoretically," she corrected. "I'd have to get the box back first, and there's the possibility that she's going to some untraceable location or other, but…" she shrugged. "That's all that Sam and I could come up with on such short notice."

"Damn good idea, too," Benio said. She reached over, and patted Reiko on the head, prompting her to bat her away. "Hey, Tatsuya, don't you think she deserves some quality time for pulling that off?"

Tatsuya glanced over at her. Do I want to know what you're up to?

Probably not.

Gonna let this go, then… he shook his head and turned back to Reiko. "You said that one of the ofuda disabled magical defenses. Do you have anything that can mess her up from a distance?"

"I mi—"

"Haul yer fuckin' 'orses!" the Scottish girl snapped. "Who says we aren't gonna fight 'er? I—"

"Would lose," Tatsuya cut her off, "because you are talking about someone with literally over a thousand years' experience, and is such a good fighter that she can anticipate your moves before you make them. If we want to get any kind of victory out of this, we're going to need to avoid a direct fight." The girl gave him a glare (much nastier than the one she'd directed at the American, Benio noticed), but said nothing. "Reiko?"

"I might," the jorogumo admitted. "We have a… a lot of onmyouji texts back at the shrine, it's almost insane… but I remember one that might be able to knock her for a loop if we get it off before she can start fighting."

"Good work," Tatsuya nodded at her, and she turned away blushing slightly. Sitting next to her, "Sam" elbowed her in the ribs with a cheerful grin. The American guy glanced between them all, but was silent.

Looking at their companions, Tatsuya took a breath. "Sorry if I'm being… pushy or anything," he said. "That aside, I think we're really going to need your help if we want to get any kind of win here. I'm not even sure what her whole plan is—but I don't doubt that she'll keep coming after us if we don't do something here and now—"

"Stop trying to convince us," the American replied. His eyes were closed, and he had the calm air of someone more or less resigned to whatever madness was about to fall on his head. "I don't doubt that every one here came without some idea of the risk." His glance flickered over to his sister again, and she returned a perturbed one of her own.

"That's… great," Tatsuya nodded. He looked over to the side. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go check in on Tonbo."

Benio glanced over. Their own sword girl had been standing off to one side the whole time, silently looking at the ground beneath her feet. She nodded. "Don't worry, Mommy will take care of all the difficult business over here. You go do what you have to."

"Well, that's just going to make Daddy worried," Tatsuya replied flatly. He stood, and walked away.

"Do they do that a lot?" Sam asked Reiko.

"Eh, every so often."
-----

I want to give Tatsuya and Benio a scene here, but in Pittsburgh right now it's one in the morning and I want to get to sleep maybe before two so that idea is out. Tomorrow, hopefully.

Well what do you think, sirs?

 

[darthcourt10]

RCNAnon

Weasleys' Warship Workshop 4

As Ron, Duke and Jean-Bart headed towards the repair baths, Ron suddenly remembered something and turned to look at his guest.

"I'm not sure if you've heard about her but Summer is a friendly Abyssal Princess we have as a guest. She's currently in the bathhouse or she was last time I checked so please try not to frighten her."

Jean-Bart looked over and down to him, meeting his eyes for a moment before nodding. "I will do so. I've heard of her but had no chance yet to meet a friendly abyssal so I'm sure it will be… enlightening."

"Oh and we also have an Abyssal Battleship Princess in there as well. She's not friendly but Summer demilitarized her and her back is broken so you don't need to worry about her either."

Jean-Bart's eyebrow raised at that as they reached the door, surprise clear on her face.

"A prisoner?"

Duke nodded.

"Yes. We found her in the north with her broken keel and sinking. There have been some disturbing rumors from around there and we needed intel. So we brought her back and Summer assisted in making sure that we didn't need to kill her out of hand."

Jean-Bart nodded again to that, though her face was contemplative.

As they were about to reach the door to the bathhouse, it opened. Out stepped Summer, Acasta pushing a wheelchair and the Battleship Princess in said wheelchair who seemed just a bit out of it.

Summer immediately let out an "eep" in surprise and sidled towards Ron, though she did not cower away like she used to. Acasta seemed unaffected like she normally was, though she stopped the wheelchair immediately and jerked the other abyssal slightly more awake, her eyes tracking over the group.

Ron immediately reached out a hand to Summer, placing it on her arm and she calmed down, though her eyes were locked on Jean-Bart.

"Jean-Bart, this is Summer. Summer, this is Jean-Bart. She's from France and she's asking us for some help with an engineering issue."

Summer's eyes immediately widened and the fear disappeared from them as she looked the French battleship over properly. Jean-Bart did much the same to Summer in turn, having to crane her neck up slightly.

"Hello Summer." Jean-Bart kept her voice as pleasant as she'd had it before, offering her hand to Summer. "I've heard about you."

"H-hello..." Summer took Jean-Bart's hand cautiously for a moment, more of a squeeze than a shake. "Uhm… can… d-do y-you mind…?" Summer glanced to Ron and then back to Jean-Bart.

Ron turned to Jean-Bart, who looked somewhat confused at Summer's reaction.

"Summer is… shy." He said in way of explanation. "Especially around new people. What I think she's asking is if you mind if she joins us." He looked up at Summer, who nodded in thanks. "She likes engineering problems."

Jean-Bart looked back up to Summer and then to Ron again.

"You would be discussing things with her anyway, would you not?"

"More than likely." Ron nodded. "Unless of course for some reason you felt it shouldn't be."

Jean-Bart looked back up to Summer, who at that point looked somewhat like an eager puppy and then sighed and nodded.

"There is no point in hiding it from those who might help you so she may come, yes."

Summer's eyes lit up and her hands clapped together in front of her waist.

Duke looked down to Acasta, who was waiting patiently for all of them.

"Will you be ok without Summer?" She asked the little dark haired destroyer.

"Yes. She's sleepy and the watch says all is good."

A little fairy emerged from the top of the Princess' head and waved for a moment before disappearing back inside with a poof.

"Still, be careful but please continue." Duke smiled to Acasta

Acasta nodded, the dark haired abyssal being carted away with her eyes having only been slightly focused on the group.

Ron gestured his hand forward and Jean-Bart nodded. After allowing her to go first Ron followed, Summer and Duke ducking in behind. A short walk through a currently unused changing room later and they were at the main pool, which was more of a swimming pool sized than the smaller one Summer had been using before. Walking up to the side Ron stopped and turned to Jean-Bart, who was visibly preparing herself for the moment.

"Do you need a minute?" He asked politely. "We don't have to do this now."

"No, we do." Jean-Bart's words were clearly somewhat of a struggle. "I just hate how it feels when I do this."

"Take your time then." Ron started to raise his hand but then stopped, keeping it down by his waist instead of raising it in a friendly pat. He didn't know her that well yet.

Jean-Bart nodded, took a deep breath and then stepped forward.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jean-Bart really hated summoning her rig. It was the moment when she was reminded of how incomplete she really was. Complete she was a terror of the seas to all but the biggest and best armored ships. Now she was only a step above a lame duck.

She saw out of the corner of her eye as Ronald… Ron's hand started to raise but he set it back down. The thought was appreciated but the discretion more so. Richelieu she could stand but… not anyone else.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, focusing on herself as she did so. Her rig summoned in its normal sparkle, forming around her before her foot touched the water. She reached out for power and felt it come, then stop suddenly like it always did. She grimaced and then turned, the pool an acceptable substitute for the moment but nothing like where she was supposed to be.

As she turned, she felt Ron's eyes on her like she had at the door. Examining, probing, trying to see what was wrong with her. It didn't take long, as there was a glaring example of just how incomplete she was immediately visible to the most ignorant moron.

"You're missing a turret." Ron sounded surprised, his eyes going to the point on her rig that held the base of the turret and nothing else.

"Oui, an entire half of my firepower simply does not exist." She waited, wanting to see what else he would notice.

"Not very many secondaries or AA guns… I see a few spots for more."

"I have none of my three triple 152mm turrets. Only five dual 90mm AA guns and two double 37mm mountings." A pause as she fought down the shame and continued. "I only have one large rangefinder, one secondary and a single one for navigation. My fire control directors are not my own and my guns are only indifferently connected at best." She snorted. "You can find destroyers with more effective firepower than I have."

Ron nodded, looking her over and then up to her eyes.

"You have propulsion issues too."

That wasn't a question but a statement.

"Yes. I have only half my boilers in working order. Half of my turbines as well and only two of my propellers are mounted." She paused again, another one of her shames coming to the fore. "I can on a good day keep up with Warspite or her sisters. Perhaps."

"Anything else?" Ron took one more look at her rig.

"Nothing major. I occasionally have issues with my one radar but I think it's more that its an old fashioned set and my crew is not used to… ahem. Well there is one thing. I don't have a full crew." Jean-Bart shook her head. "There's not much point in having one when they wouldn't have anything to do."

"Well we'll need to get that fixed too." Ron muttered to himself and then looked back up at Jean-Bart's eyes. "So just a run down, you need me to install and get working properly a full half of your propulsion systems, half your main armament, all your secondary armament and most of your AA guns. Then it all needs to be given a test, fixed into your fire control network, which we also need to rebuild properly and then get you all of your sensors that you should have in the meanwhile. Finally, we need to get you more crew so everything can run properly once it's installed. Does that sound about right?"

Jean-Bart winced at the full listing of her issues but she nodded.

"That is correct, yes. She paused. "Can you do it?"

"Not sure yet." Ron said. "Probably."

"You aren't sure?" Jean-Bart felt herself deflate promptly at his words, an edge coming to her voice.

"I am not actually a naval architect yet Jean-Bart." Ron's voice took on a more serious tone. "I am a gifted amateur with plenty of time and help." He pointed at Summer. "I think we can do it provided we have the resources."

"Those will not be a problem." Jean-Bart said, slightly mollified. "My government will pay the price for my repairs. Of that I am certain."

"If that's the case I still want to..." Ron froze and then shook his head, looking like he wanted to swear. "Victoria!"

Jean-Bart's eyes popped as the maid suddenly appeared behind Ron.

"Yes Young Master?" Her voice was perfectly level, as if she'd been expecting this.

"Can you get Angie for me please? Tell her Jean-Bart needs some dry-dock time."

Jean-Bart cocked her eyebrow as Ron turned back to her.

"I need dry-dock time?" Her tone was somewhat flat.

"Yes." Ron didn't seem to be bothered by that. "You told me a lot but I'm going to need more detail than what you told me. Dimensions, current wear and tear, if something doesn't match the blueprints…" He stopped and grinned. "I've also recently been reminded that battleships like to skip out on repair time if they can." He cocked his head at her. "And I can see a few spots that need a paint job on your rig. When's the last time you soaked in a bath or were even in a repair dock?"

Jean-Bart suddenly felt a chill go down her spine for some reason and she looked around the room for a moment.

"I spend the required time in the baths after every sortie and since I've not had combat damage in quite a while there's no need…" she started, just as the door to the changing room was suddenly thrust open and banged on the wall. An amazonian woman with sun bleached hair and tanned skin stood there, an entirely too eager looking smile.

"There is no need for what?" Said the woman in an English accent mixed with German.

"Jean-Bart, this is Angie. Also known as Admiralty Floating Dock Number 8. Angie, this is Jean-Bart, second ship of the Richelieu class. She's come to us for help in repairs and well she can't remember the last time she had dry-dock time."

Angie's grin widened in a manner Jean-Bart did not like very much at all.

"I see. Good thing you called me Ron." The woman's green eyes focused on Jean-Bart. "So should I do a normal job or is this a special occasion?"

Jean-Bart turned the corner of her eye to Ron, hoping that by whatever gods there were that he didn't say it was a special occasion.

"I think this qualifies as a special occasion." Ron said, turning to look at Jean-Bart. "Be easy on her though. I still need drawings and specs of what is and isn't done so there needs to be a full survey."

"Ja." Angie's eyes were agleam. "It will be done."

Jean-Bart felt her chances of escape slipping away quickly.

"I don't have to stay here." She said, sounding unfortunately defensive even to her own ears.

Ron nodded.

"You don't. I can't do my job though if I don't know what I need to look at." His reasonable tone made Jean-Bart all the more nervous. "It's for your own good, I promise."

Jean-Bart looked between Ron who was so utterly reasonable looking, Summer who seemed to be nodding, Duke of York who was only grinning at her and the unmerciful eyes of the giant Anglo-Germanic repair dock.

"...Fine." She sighed.

"Great!" Ron smiled. "I'll leave you girls to it and go do some of my own research."

Jean-Bart watched as Ron was followed by Duke of York and Summer out of the pool, leaving her only with Angie.

"It will be fine!" Said the giant woman as a wrench appeared in her hand. "I will take good care of you."

Jean-Bart gulped.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Hours later, enough that it was long since dark, Jean-Bart blew bubbles in the water as Angie finished up her check.

"See, I told you it would not be so bad ja?" Angie was quite pleased as her hands did up the last of Jean-Bart's hair.

"You did." Jean-Bart admitted grudgingly. She did feel quite good after her time but it was still somewhat humiliating to be so easily maneuvered into such a position.

"Ronald is a good lad. He will be one of the best some day so you are in good hands. Even with all of this still needing doing."

Jean-Bart turned and looked to see several of Angie's fairies struggling under a mountain of little notes.

"I just hope it works out." Jean-Bart said.

"It will." Angie finished with Jean-Bart's hair and nodded. "Now you can get out. I'm sure they have a room for you."

Jean-Bart nodded and got out of the water, drying herself on the offered towel and redressing herself.

As they were leaving, Jean-Bart turned to see Summer carrying Ron against her shoulder with one hand, an enormous pile of paper in the other and Ron fast asleep looking exhausted.

The abyssal princess stopped as she saw them and put a finger to her lips.

"The Yardmaster is sleeping." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she carried Ron towards the door.

"Is that normal?" Jean-Bart turned to Angie.

"From what I understand, yes." Angie nodded. "I've not been around long but according to Duke and Warspite he is often scolded by his mother because he fell asleep on their blueprints. It looks like he's doing the same thing for you."

Jean-Bart felt her boilers flutter at the thought, her eyes tracking Summer and Ron until they made it to the door where the maid was waiting.

Victoria waited until Jean-Bart and Angie got close before speaking.

"I have prepared a guest room for you at the Young Master's request. He says it's to be kept open for your use." Her voice was neutral, showing little inflection but she didn't seem quite as cold as before.

"Thank you." Jean-Bart said. There was no point in being rude.

There was a pause as Victoria narrowed her eyes briefly and then stepped aside, gesturing towards the door.

"Please enjoy your stay."

Jean-Bart nodded, stepping back into the house and wondering why she felt her boilers flutter nervously at those words.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
AN: Well, this is the end of Ron's first return to Passell house but there's sure to be more coming. My next snip is one I've been looking forward to for a while and I hope to get it out soon. Until then, questions, comments and concerns welcome as always.

 

[darthcourt10]

MagisterAurelius

Time for another little walk down.... Lonely Street

Lonely Street ... Part 2

Master Chief Longstreet was facing another day of finding something to do. With hanami proving to be a veritable blizzard of pink sakura blossoms, Yonehara had once again shuttered the office and given everyone the day off. Sure, things were running well and it wasn't like anything was pressing. But for Dalton, mindless shuffling of paper, files, reports and correspondence made the day pass. Nothing to do means I'm needed for nothing. Superfluous to requirements. He walked back home. He took the half full liter bottle of Coca-cola out of the fridge. He reached into a cabinet, took out a bottle of Capt Morgan Black Rum and poured enough rum into the Coke bottle to fill it. He secured the cap on the Coke bottle and gave it a shake to mix it together.

He chuckled grimly. "Time to go sailing with Captain Morgan / and not even leave dry land." Adding a sandwich to the Coke bottle in a bag, he headed out to the park.

Once again the park was full of families and groups enjoying the sakura. He made his way through the throngs, trying to locate a nice quiet solitary place. That meant avoiding the open grassy areas where most of the families had set up, so he kept walking, hoping to find somewhere unobtrusive. Several different groups of ship-girls were in the park. One of which was the natural born Ibuki sisters. A sharp pang of envy spiked through him at the sight of Moriko Ibuki bury a yeah that's a guy in marshmallow hell. The peals of laughter caused a familiar refrain to bubble up to his conscious thought.

Happiness happens to other people. Not you Dalt. Joy will not come to the unwanted, lest it be wasted.

"Chief Longstreet-san?"

Dalt was broken out of his reverie by the question. Looking back, he saw one of the destroyer girls that lived with Fubuki and all those kids. "Hello there Kisaragi-san. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh no. We just wanted to thank you for all the help the other night with that 'Boogeyman' problem. The children are sleeping much easier now."

He rubbed his chin in thought. "I was happy to help. It was just something that my grandfather told me about back when I was a kid. That when I became a dad, I would have to be the one to get rid of the Boogeyman and the Monster Under the Bed for my kids. He also said something about only adult men can see them and make them go away."

"And you certainly did make it go away! Although it was kind of messy."

"Yeah, another weird little detail my grandfather mentioned that I always thought was bullspit. Did the baking soda and water mix get the blood stains out of the closet?"

"Yes it did and thank you again! I'm sure your children will never have to worry about a boogeyman! OH! I've got to go Longstreet-san, arigato!" With that Kisaragi waved and moved off to catch up to Fubuki and the children.

Dalton just stared glumly off into space before he spoke to the air, "It's true in a way, being as I'm not likely to ever have kids, they certainly won't have to worry." He turned and found an unclaimed sakura tree to sit down and lean his back against. He sat down, took out the bottle of Coke and took a long pull. He didn't notice the woman in sunglasses surreptitiously watching the Ibuki group, nor that she had been within hearing distance of his brief conversation with Kisaragi. The only thing Dalt wanted was to feel something other than numb or lonely. For now, he was leaving that in the hands of Captain Morgan.

 

[darthcourt10]

Yellowhammer

Pack Dynamics VI

Yokosuka Naval Base, Main Gate

Suzume Ibuki stifled a groan as her minutes-older big sister sprinted toward the effeminate form of her boyfriend. Not that she did not expect this kind of behavior, considering how bridge - no, head! - over heels Moriko-chan was for this boy. That said, it was still terribly embarrassing to see Moriko-chan act like a giddy schoolgirl in public.

People were staring at her and not just the children! That secretary over there was, as was the businesswoman that she remembered from the Karaoke club!

Sachiko murmured from where she sat in the wheelchair, "That poor little boy. Someone needs to comfort him."

With that Suzume nodded and hurried over to the side of the cute boy who was looking at his big brother with an absolutely adorable puzzled look. Since it was obvious that unless someone took a cutting torch to Hachiko and Moriko's relationship soon, she should be at least friendly to her new in-laws.
Spoiler: Aki Meets The Ibukis

She knelt down in front of the boy and extended her hand. "Hello, I'm Moriko-chan's sister Suzume."

He blinked and looked at her with his brown eyes wide and whispered. "Oh! You must be Tou-san's friend's sister! He said that she was really nice and wonderful and stuff."

Unbidden her lips curled in a gentle smile that lit up her face. "Yes, yes she is. Um, you are Aki, right?"

He nodded, still awestruck. "Yes, yes I am. Um, you are really nice and wonderful too. Are you an angel like Tou-san says Miss Moriko is?"

She smiled. "That's very sweet of you, Aki-kun." She cast about for a subject to talk to this precocious elementary school student about, and seized on the hachimaki headband from his kyudo lesson that he was wearing. "That's an interesting headband, Aki-kun, where did you get it?"

She was curious, since unlike the normal slogans to pass an examination or be number one, the characters on the headband were hand-inked 体得 'Knowledge'.

He scuffed one sneaker against the pavement with a bashful look, "I wrote it myself my first day in Tokunotakai-sensei's class. She told me that kyudo was a path for people to grow, and for me to write what I wanted to grow toward, what I wanted to get out of the class. I want to learn and understand stuff like Tou-san does."

Suzume gave Aki a respectful nod and approving smile and then blinked in surprise. "Oh! You train under Tokunotakai-kyōshi? I wish that I could have. My senseis have spoken of her with respect but I have been unable to learn from her."

"Yeah, she's really amazing and funny, but not as amazing as you are," Aki said earnestly, with clear hero-worship toward this young lady treating him as an equal.

She laughed slightly and gave him a conspiritorial grin. "We are all amazing in our own way. I bet if you keep growing and learning, you will compete in kyudo tournaments like I did to get money to help my sister Sachiko; she gets sick a lot so she is in the wheelchair here. Want to meet her too?"

"Mm-hmm!" Aki nodded eagerly and reached out his hand for Suzume's. Calluses from kyudo practice touched each other as they walked past the embracing Moriko and Hachiko.

The two passed the secretary talking on her phone and then the nightclub manager, who had a smug self-satisfied smile as they walked to Sachiko. Upon arriving at Sachiko's wheelchair, Suzume gave Aki's hand a squeeze and released it. "Aki, this is my amazing and wonderful younger sister Sachiko. Sachiko-chan, this is Hachiko's little brother Aki-kun."

The youngest Ibuki sister smiled and patted her lap. "Want to ride to see the flowers with me?"

Aki glanced at Sachiko, then up to Suzume. Suzume smiled encouragingly and nodded and he happily hopped into Sachiko's lap.

"I see Big Sister Moriko finally is letting Hachiko-san breathe." Sachiko observed quietly as Hachiko's red face with a trickle of blood from his nose emerged from Moriko's cleavage.

Aki looked up at Suzume, "Why does Tou-san look so funny?"

Suzume smiled at him and winked. "Because Moriko-chan ruffled his hair like I'll ruffle yours."

Aki melodramatically put both hands up to protect his head. "Nooo! I don't want to look funny like Tou-san!" The roguish twinkle in his eyes and perked up ears put paid to any form of distress in his statement, though.

Sachiko and Suzume burst into laughter, followed by Aki as they wheeled to join Moriko and Hachiko.

---------------------------------------
Spoiler: Hanami

Kiho Mitsue smiled despite herself as she watched Suzume assist the wheelchair-bound form of Sachiko next to the picnic blanket that Aki, Hachiko and Moriko had set up under the cherry blossoms.

It was a beautiful day, not too hot yet, and with an invigorating sea breeze to make the blossom-laden branches gently sway. Considering the circumstances of some of her investigations, this was near-ideal.

Her smile widened as Moriko plopped herself down on the blanket and then grabbed Hachiko, pulling the smaller boy into her lap to use her bosom as a pillow while Aki ate his bento and the other two sisters talked quietly over lunch away from the lovebirds.

She rubbed the ofuda in her purse, sharpening her hearing while apparently looking at her smartphone with her visible hand.

".... Suzume-chan?"

"What is it, Sachiko-chan?"

"You smelled inu on Aki-kun too?"

"Hai. I don't think Moriko-chan has yet. I'm not surprised, since her nose never totally worked right after that oni broke it in her championship match. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I am. Let's keep Aki-kun downwind of her and see how long it takes her to figure out that the 'Inugami bitch who keeps sniffing around her Hachiko-chan' is his cute little brother."

Kiho's eyes widened behind her omnioculars and she bit her lip to focus herself and force her anger and betrayal back down. This definitely needed to be followed up, and explained why that spider Shigeru hung her out to dry rather than stepping in like he could have.

She murmured into her phone words for her self-writing notebook to transcribe for analysis later. "Definite yokai connection, investigate. Knows about oni, Reference Auror reports on female MMA fighters, possibly championship caliber. Also check Miyatas for inugami members."

Sensing eyes turned toward her from the direction of her quarry, she gave a visible exasperated sigh at the imaginary ingrate who had called her during hanami. She turned to 'visibly admire the blossoms' and lull suspicion as another scrap of conversation caused her magically enhanced ears to perk up

"Chief Longstreet-san?"

"Hello there Kisaragi-san. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh no. We just wanted to thank you for all the help the other night with that 'Boogeyman' problem. The children are sleeping much easier now."

"I was happy to help. It was just something that my grandfather told me about back when I was a kid. That when I became a dad, I would have to be the one to get rid of the Boogeyman and the Monster Under the Bed for my kids. He also said something about only adult men can see them and make them go away."

"And you certainly did make it go away! Although it was kind of messy."

"Yeah, another weird little detail my grandfather mentioned that I always thought was bullspit. Did the baking soda and water mix get the blood stains out of the closet?"

"Yes it did and thank you again! I'm sure your children will never have to worry about a boogeyman! OH! I've got to go Longstreet-san, arigato!"

"It's true in a way, being as I'm not likely to ever have kids, they certainly won't have to worry."

The weary, beaten-down tone of the man's voice sparked something under her professionalism. Embers of a flame that she had thought extinguished forever by the cynicism and cruelty of the way that she had been treated for doing the right thing.

She looked over and saw a middle aged and battered man sitting alone with a bottle of some brown soda and a sandwich next to him. As the destroyer girl he had been talking to headed back to the gaggle of young children that she was escorting, she noticed that he was certainly close enough to her targets to listen in on their conversation and she would have a decent line of sight to their picnic.

Perfect.

She murmured to her self-writing quill, "Begin automatic recording mode, full transcript."

With that set up, she walked over and bowed to him, pulling her own bento and a bottle of water out of her purse. "Excuse me, would you mind terribly if I sat beside you to enjoy the blossoms?"

Part of her told herself the reason that she would be doing this was to cultivate a contact to see what the base gossip network thought of the Ibuki sisters. But deep down, she knew that she did it because she knew what it was like to spend hanami abandoned by everyone around her as she suffered in stoic silence.

 

[darthcourt10]

K9Thefirst1: Uzume gets her shipping on

RCNAnon said:
Aki is cute, like teeth meltingly cute​

Yeah, when cobbling together character traits to build into Aki, we seemed to have settled on a mix of Phantom Menace Era Anakin Skywalker, and Young Izuku Midoriya. So he is a prescious sweetheart of a little boy, with a love of tinkering - sadly we've not had an opportunity to revel in that aspect outside of Hachiko mentioning LEGO sets being his favorite.

But yes: He's a good boy, best doggo-boy.

And I hope we get to see more of that good boy.

and he's got the right instincts for a boy his age.​

Indeed. He shall be a source of much D'awws.

Aki: Suzume-nee? What's wrong?

Suzume: *watching Moriko and Hachiko snuggle like doggos at a fire* Oh nothing you need to worry about little Aki-chan. Just a bit of jealousy that Moriko-chan's happiness.

Aki: What do you mean? *doggo headtilt*

Suzume: *sighs* Oh nothing. Moriko is able to find a very good man in your brother. I just wish I could find the time to look myself.

Aki: *very serious little boy thinking* Well, don't worry Suzume-chan! When I grow up, and you haven't found a husband, I can do it!

Surrounding girls watching:

"Kaaawaaaiiiii!!!!"

Suzume: *a little surprised, but smiles, laughs a little, and pats his little head* That is very sweet of you to offer Aki. But you don't need to worry about me. I don't need a husband to be happy, just knowing that my sisters have their happiness is enough for me. I'll be just fine.

Uzume: ...

*pulls out a calendar and an abacus*

mikelima777 said:
I am on the fence about having another tie in to the Norikids. Maybe instead she got kicked out the manor next door and managed to break some decorations after slamming into the grounds.

Or Victoria heard of the dumpsterfire second hand.
Yellowhammer said:
We have been bouncing this idea back and forth off and on.

My thinking is that Colombe was a guest invited to a social event there and 'misbehaved' since she was in a bad headspace after crawling out of the Congo and then killing her treacherous nephew and someone slammed her red button very hard. Cue dumpster fire.​

Yeah, I'm of this same opinion. No need to oversaturate the setting. Besides, the uperclass are atrocious gossips. It wouldn't matter if the incident was in Northumberland, the tale would get down to her.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Slowly waking up from his deep sleep, Harry blinked his eyes and glanced around his bed. From the light coming in the windows, he was able to tell that it had to have been at least eight in the morning. Which meant that he had likely slept more than twelve hours straight. Something that... did not really surprise him all too much.

Even now, he felt mental exhaustion from what had happened.

With a slight grimace from his stiff muscles, Harry continued to observe the room with half lidded eyes. Ones that he opened fully as they met red ones looking up at him from where their owner laid beside him, "Hoppou?"

Hoppou's eyes watered some before she practically leapt into his embrace and hugged him tightly, "Hoppou was so scared, Big Brother. Hoppou thought that you were..."

Returning the hug just as tightly, Harry nodded, "You were not the only one, Hoppou. I was worried as well for a bit before, well..." He just continued to hug her, "Well, I'm okay now in any case." Feeling Hoppou nod against his neck, he nuzzled her a little, "I'm fine, Hoppou. And I am still here despite their best attempt."

Just pulling back some, the Abyssal smiled softly, "Yes, Hoppou knows this and is glad."

And with that stated, Hoppou went back to hugging him as Harry rubbed her back through her dress. Feeling the bed shift, he looked up to where Nagato was looking down at him before she hugged him, "She's right, Harry. At this rate, you are going to turn my hair white."

Lips twitching, and wanting to lighten the mood a little, Harry chuckled as he returned the hug, "Well, then I suppose that you and Hoppou will match. Especially as I can't turn her hair white."

Huffing, Hoppou reached up and bopped him on the head with one hand, "Big Brother being silly. And Big Brother is going to turn Hoppou's hair grey from worry for him."

Lightly laughing, Harry gave her a kiss on the top of her head, "I try not to, Hoppou. You know that."

Yet again, all he got was a huff from her as she snuggled into him. Meanwhile, Nagato shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, "Perhaps, and in some ways that makes it worse, I suppose."

Right then, the door opened and Aeroprin walked in pushing a cart with Juuchi munching an orange with Kagotsuruhe behind her. Upon seeing him, the Abyssal Destroyer rushed over and joined in the hug, "Uncle Harry! You're awake! Awake!"

Smiling, Harry patted her back, "I am." When he turned towards her, the first sign for Juuchi that something was about to happen was the twinkle in his eyes. The second was that he was smirking at her smugly to a level equal to her own at times, "Good morning, June."

Absentmindly, Juuchi nodded, "Good morning, Master..." Suddenly realizing what he called her, she gave him a look that was equal bits of confusion and surprise at what she just heard, "Wait, what did you just call me?"

If anything, his smirk grew some more smug, "June, right?" Expression changing to mock confusion, he continued, "I mean, that is the name that you chose for yourself, right? Though I don't know why as Juuchi works fine."

For several moments, Juuchi boggled at him as she opened her mouth only to close it without saying anything. At last, she managed to do so though, "How long...?"

Practically dripping smug, Harry chuckled, "Since before Christmas actually." He jerked his thumb at Kagotsuruhe, "I remember her at the Quidditch match transforming and 'Kagome' was the older sister of a 'June'. One that was in Second Year, yet I have never seen before this year. Add in that when she came to help me learn to cast a Patronus, she had your blade at her side and admitted to being your sister? Well... her Kagome persona just looked slightly different. So it was not that hard to put it all together, which I did before Christmas."

Utter silence was all that was heard besides Juuchi's sputters. That was, until Kagotsuruhe gave him a thumbs up and a wide, though fake looking, grin, "Good job!"

Head whipping around, her younger sister glared at her, "Stop that!" Turning back to Harry, Juuchi threw her hands up into the air, "If you knew for so long, why didn't you say anything!? Not once did you hint and..." She paused briefly and she went over the few encounters with "June" that Harry had, and her eyes widened as she realized he often smirked smugly to her confusion, "I..."

Only shrugging, Harry's smuggness was now equal to some of Juuchi's more smug moments, "Why? Because I wanted to see how far you would carry it before actually giving it up." He then snapped a finger and winked, "And also because then I could not tease you when you were in sword form by eating blood oranges in front of you and treats that use them, such as chocolate blood oranges. All the time knowing that you could take on a human form and chose not to because you didn't think that I knew what you looked like."

Bringing up her hands, the Muramasa growled, "You..." Giggles made her sigh and slump as she looked to the side where Tsukiakari and Catherine had fallen backwards on a bed, "Et tu, Tsu-Chan..."

Eyes twinkling madly in mirth, Tsukiakari shook her head, "Sorry, Senpai. But it is hilarious."

From where she was beside her, Catherine smiled, "It truly is, Juuchi. And oh so fitting as well that something like that would be turned back on you."

Crossing her arms, Juuchi huffed a bit, "You would, Frenchie."

All the French sword did though was shrug with a beatific smile on her face before turning back towards Harry. She then bowed her head slightly, "Good morning, Master, it is good to see you in good health this morning after the..." For a few brief seconds, she seemed to search for something to say before shrugging, "The unfortunate incident yesterday. As for who I am, my name is Catherine, or the Sword of St. Catherine, if you wish to be exact. I was in the French Branch of the family in Normandy before the last of them fled to Britain with me."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry frowned some, 'Sword of St. Catherine... where did I hear...' Suddenly, it clicked as he remembered one of the livestreams that he had done with Naka. In particular, it was one that talked about how a number of video games had a character based off- "Jeanne d'Arc." Eyes wide, the wizard turned to the young woman with awe on his face, "You're the Sword of Jeanne d'Arc."

Rather pleased, Catherine smiled softly and part of Harry swore there was a glow around her hair, "That is correct, Jeanne d'Arc was my most famous wielder."

Confused, Nagato had a frown on her face, "Jeanne d'Arc? But... the Potters are British. How did they...?" It took her a moment before she blinked as she remembered something that she had said, "That's right, you stated that the Potters had a French Branch from your introduction, correct?"

A sigh escaped from the French blade as she nodded, "They did. One of Hardwin Potter's sons journeyed to Normandy when it was under Norman control and established a branch of the family there. When it was taken from the English, they continued to live there and became French. And they stayed there until what is known as the Hundred Years War when they were driven out by the English forces." Leaning forward, Catherine rested her chin on her hands, "Which was where I met Jacques Potter, who became the Page for Jeanne, my Mistress."

From there, she explained how Jacques had served Jeanne faithfully as her Page for the years that she was fighting for France. No matter what happened, he stayed by her side, believing in her. And how, after Jeanne had a vision of being captured by the English, she handed him her sword for safe keeping.

Swallowing, Catherine shook her head, "The poor lad was in tears at what was going to happen, at being told that Jeanne was to die at the hands of the English. For she had become more than a leader he would follow, she had become an older sister to him. I can remember my Mistress reaching down and gently brushing the tears from his face before telling him that she had no fear, for she awaited the Lord. And that one day, they would meet in Heaven for she knew he would grow to be a good man in the Lord's eyes as well as how she would always watch over him. But until then, he needed to watch over me and make sure to take me to safety for I still had a destiny ahead of me. Placing me at his side, she gave him a final kiss on the brow before placing him upon a horse that was to be his. And with a final few words as to where he would travel for safety, and where he would find a wife to continue his line, she had him leave."

Hoppou considered things before nodding, "She was a good big sister."

Lips twitching, Catherine nodded, "Jeanne... truly was. I suspect that it was for as much Jacques safety as mine, giving him such an important mission. That she had somehow foreseen that if he had stayed, he would have died defending her. And I believe that the two of them are in Heaven under His Light. Because as he drew his last breath, I remember Jacques smiling in pure awe and joy, Jeanne's name passing his lips as he passed his last breath. I could feel her in the room then, come to bring him to his just reward." With a small shrug, she shook her head, "Afterwards, Jacques built a family chapel where they resettled. And laid me above the alter there in a place of honour, while Jeanne's Standard was placed elsewhere and only brought out for special occasions."

Eyebrow raised, Harry frowned some, "Wait, how did you get to Britain then? And what about the story of how you were broken?"

A light blush crossed the sword's cheeks at that, "As to the second, that was not me. That was another sword that she had been given. It... had not been well taken care of before being gifted to her. In regards to the first..." Her expression darkened, "The French Revolution happened. As I am sure that you know, it was as bad on the magical side as on the non-magical. A rather large number of Muggleborn decided that since some Pureblooded nobles were problematic, all of them had to go and in a permanent manner. Hélène Potter was but all of eight years old when they attacked the Potter Chateau. She hid within the chapel and prayed before the alter for deliverance."

Smugly smirking, Juuchi snorted, "Which, from what I remember from when she arrived in Britain, she received in the form of you manifesting." Ignoring the blush on the other spirit's cheeks, she jerked her thumb at her fellow Potter Blade, "She demanded to know what the mob wanted, and was not happy with their response of killing Hélène for the crime of being a noble and nothing else, right there in the Church."

Glaring at Juuchi, Catherine frowned, "Yes, I was not happy. But I will state that I did not kill any of them."

If anything, the smug increased from the Muramasa, "No, I never said that you did. Now, making sure that they were unable to follow due to not being able to move under their own power? By beating them nearly to death? Well... that is something else."

Now deeply blushing, Catherine mumbled a bit, "It worked for Mistress Jeanne, and it worked for me." With a sniff towards the now chuckling Juuchi, she turned back to Harry, "As she was injured, I carried her all the way to the Channel. And then, well..." She blushed a bit again, "I can only hope that the Lord accepts my apology for stealing a boat to get her across to Britain and gives me forgiveness. For I had no other choice with magical mobs after us. She eventually married into the English Branch, making her you many great-grandmother."

Thoughtful, Harry looked out the window, "What happened to the French property anyways?"

For a few moments, Catherine was also thoughtful, "From what I recall, it was later bought by the French Malfoys. Until, that was, after WWII. Miss Lyra had Henry buy the property and was working on restoration until her death. I... am afraid that I am unsure what happened to it after."

Reaching over, the wizard patted her knee with a smile, "Still, we at least know that it is there and that is the important thing."

To that, Catherine smiled and placed her hand over his as she nodded, "Yes, that is true and also a wise way of seeing things. Perhaps one day, we shall travel there and see for ourselves." After a few moments, she pulled back and gestured at the cart that Aeroprin had brought in, "But before we go any further, perhaps it would be for the best that you have a good meal. Breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day after all."

With a chuckle, Harry nodded as he shifted a bit and took off the lid from one of the dishes only to drool a little at the sight of the chocolate chip pancakes. Another one was lifted to reveal double chocolate muffins as well, and there was hot chocolate for drinks. Which he took without complaint. Somewhat to his surprise though, none of it was grabbed by Hoppou. Instead, the Abyssal kept cuddled into his side throughout the whole thing.

Once he was done though, he had Pomfrey appear from seemingly nowhere and scan him. After a few moments, the School Medi-Witch was pleased by what she was seeing and nodded, "Good, it does not seem like there has been much issue with what has happened, Mister Potter. But still, take it easy for the next few days."

With a final and pointed look, she left. Looking around, Harry frowned some, "Where's Sirius?"

A cough made him look over to where Nagato had an amused look on her face, "Sirius is in another room. Isley finally received word as to what had happened and arrived earlier. Not that she was too pleased, and she took Sirius into a room with privacy spells to have a talk-" The door opening made her smirk, "And I think that he's just returned."

Right then, Sirius stumbled in with a slight groan as he rubbed at one red ear. Seeing Harry was up though, the former convict perked up and made his way over, "Your awake, Prongslet?"

Bemused, the teen grinned, "I am, and it seems that you have been for a time as well."

Simply sighing, Sirius gave a weak laugh before running his hand through his hair, "Yeah, I am." Flopping onto a bed, the older wizard gave a sigh, "Harry? I'm... sorry. For what happened." Seeing the confusion, Sirius shook his head, "The Dementors were after me and it was because of that you got caught up in the whole thing."

Just as he said that, a fan whapped him on the head. Blinking in confusion, Sirius looked at Harry as he pulled back his hand with the folded fan in it, "You got nothing to apologize about. Literally, it could have happened anywhere."

Eyebrows furrowing, Sirius frowned some, 'Where did he get that fan from...?'

Meanwhile, the thirteen year old continued, "Anyways, at the least we're all safe in the end." He gave a small nod to Isley who stood in the doorway before frowning, "Uh, everyone is okay, right?"

Despite wondering where the fan came from... and where he had put it, Sirius nodded, "Yeah, everyone is okay though a bit shaken... well, except for the Dementors. A lot of those are ash." Eyebrow raised, he gave Harry a look of interest, "Where did you even learn that?"

Harry just shrugged some, "Learned it from my Senseis for Onmyoudo. I wasn't even thinking much for the last one besides... calling out the biggest guns possible."
Intrigued, Nagato now turned her attention to that, "Who did you call upon anyways?"

Shifting a bit, the black haired teen frowned, "Well... one of the things about higher levels of Onmyoudo is that you need to call upon spirits or higher beings. So I decided to call upon the one Kami that I figured would be the biggest guns possible." At their looks, he continued, "Amaterasu-ōmikami."

After a moment of thought, Nagato nodded, "Yes, I suppose that makes sense. And she would despise Dementors to no end for what they represent."

His arm going around the waist of Isley who had entered and sat beside him, Sirius took a deep breath and let it out, "So... what are your plans?"

Glancing at Harry, the Battleship frowned, "To be quite honest, it is something that Albus and myself have been discussing. It is not impossible that Harry will get off from Hogwarts a week early for Easter Break." She reached over and ruffled his hair some, "Which, of course, means that he won't miss Hanami thankfully."

That caused Harry to smile a bit.

 

[darthcourt10]

Savato93: SGO Tags for the Fleet of Laughter

All I'll say regarding this matter, Harry Leferts , is that your story motivated me to pick up writing again—something that I'd given up on for almost five years prior. So... yeah.

Anyway. Remember way back when we were coming up with SGO titles for the characters? While I work to come up with my next snippet, I figure I'd provide some titles I made for some of the Fleet of Laughter girls...

Regalia
[Medic-in-Training] [Humble Farm-girl] [Not A Sleepwalker, Honest] [Wait, Where Did These Chips Come From??]

Nero
[Aspiring Chef] [Model Heavy Cruiser] [Mild Pyromaniac] [Pig Farmer]

Millie
[First of Her Kind] [Creepy Nurse But Not Really] [Too Pure For This Sinful World]

Tippy
[Sassy AF] [Solid Snake] [How the Hell Did You Get An Account?]

Rivet
[Verified MMAbyssal] [Yeet or be Yeeted]

Sunny
[Verified Abyssal Memelord] [Jaws Is My Bitch]

Kora
[Little Tugboat From the Deep] [Not the Avatar] [She Lifts, Bro]

Fluffy
[Safety Blanket] [Softest Of Puppies] [Miniature Battlecarrier] [Devoted to Renita]

Renita
[Survivor] [Needs Cuddles]
[YOU] [SHALL] [DRIFT]

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts Omake: Iron Wrought Chef

Anyways... to cheer myself up, I wrote an omake...
_________________________________________

Biting into a bell pepper, Harder paused before smirking at the camera. After a few chews, she swallowed, "Welcome, to the Yokosuka Finals Junior Iron Chef! We have two contestants here, live streamed by Naka."

Said Light Cruiser grinned and went into a pose, "Hai, Hai, Naka-Chan, Idol of the Fleet, Desu!" Naka then gestured at a nearby table, "And let us welcome our diners, the ever hungry Ducks, Akizuki-Chan, Teruzuki-Chan, and Hatsuzuki-Chan! And joining them are CarDiv1, Akagi-San, Kaga-San, with special guests Enterprise-San and Yamato-San!"

It was then that Harder made a grand gesture, "And now to introduce the two finalists!"

Nodding, Naka grinned before pointing at one side of the large kitchen, "First up, we got the ever adorable Harry Potter-Nagato! A top rated junior chef who often cooks in the Mess hall."

The ten year old gave a hmph as he adjusted his glasses, "Finally, it comes down to you and I..." Green eyes met red across the kitchen, 'Let's see what you have... you so called Faker.'

Not knowing of Harry's thoughts, Naka gestured at the other contestant, "And here we got his rival in the kitchens and fellow classmate... Emilya von Einzbern!" Internally, the shipgirl frowned, 'Kind of a coincidence considering the name...'

Eyes narrowed at Harry, Emilya frowned, 'Even a Fake can overcome a real thing...' Hands under the table, the pinkette softly whispered to herself, "Trace On."

In a flash of light, white bladed and black bladed kitchen knives were formed.

At that moment, the three Akizukis shivered at the aura from the two contestants. Gulping, Teruzuki looked at her sisters, "Is it bad that I am both terrified and excited?" When her sisters shook their heads, she weakly smiled, "Oh, good..."

Meanwhile, Akagi had a serious expression on her face, "I shall see you on the other side, Kaga-San."

All her fellow member of CarDiv1 did was nod before glancing at a smirking Enterprise, "I shall see you fall, Enterprise-San, upon this field of combat."

The American Carrier only smirked back before turning the competition before her...

 

[darthcourt10]

Yellowhammer

Dove at a Dinner Party: Part The First

A Comedy of Ill-Manners, Shocking French 'Customs', and a Fire in the Rubbish Skip

Passel House

Friday, May 12th, 1899
Spoiler: Passel House

The thestral-drawn carriage clattered up the cobblestones of the driveway toward the front door. Inside, Colombe du Chasteler fanned herself with her ivory-handled fan printed with a picturesque Chinese pagoda.

As the carriage halted at the entrance, she took a deep breath and adjusted her dove-gray ankle-length dress and black hat. While supposedly these were her mourning clothes, she could not find it within herself to truly grieve at her grandnephew's death at her blade and hands.

If, in fact, he was truly dead, she reflected sourly, remembering a conversation with his photograph that he had possessed. In the most literal sense of the word.

Which was why she was here in England, both to distance herself from the investigation of the 'home invasion by some criminal element' that had killed a Councillor of King Leopold II of the Belgians - may her greedy sovereign burn in hellfire for what he countenanced in the Congo! - and to track down this 'Kasuyu' that had taught him many of his magics before returning to Africa.

Surely somewhere there was a way to rid herself of her nephew's baleful spirit.

Which was why she would cut this cancer out from the du Chasteler family before falling on her sword to expiate her sins.

Death was easy, living was hard. Living was pain. The only thing worth the living was revenge on the people who had destroyed her family.

With that she stepped from the hired carriage and handed a Galleon tip to the coachman, who touched his cap. "Please await word to bring my trunks down." With that she took a crocodile-skin valise from the luggage rack that she had carefully enchanted to carry her true self and approached the door.

It was not like she would need the blood money of her family's sins where she was going.

She knocked at the door and as it opened, curtsied to the House-elf like an automaton, and handed over her engraved calling card with a dove and 'Mademoiselle Colombe du Chasteler' surrounded by a very thin black border. "I am here to call upon Colonel Gamp," she spoke in a monotone as she placed the card upon the silver tray the House Elf held after folding over the top left corner of the card.

The small creature nodded and blinked out of sight. As Colombe sat in the chair in the foyer, the ghostly image of a young blonde lady with glasses in a modestly cut maid's uniform flickered for an instant in the corner of her eye. She turned her head slightly as she began to fan herself to see that the foyer was empty.

Strange....

With that she occupied herself by viewing the magical painting of a Quiddich match on the opposite wall and reflecting that the Colonel or another member of his family had truly execrable taste in art.
Spoiler: Broken Bird

It was easier to concentrate on the atrocious selection of colors for the sky and clouds than remember recent... events....

Remember the look in the eyes of PaPA's pAinTIng when she staggered from hiPpOLytE's study after she... dId whAT Had tO be dONe.

Remember the ConGo.

Remember what shE had doNe.

What SHe had aLlowEd tO be dONe....

"Missus du Chasteler? MISSUS Du Chasteler!"

The tug on her sleeve caused her to jerk out of her reverie and focus on the House-elf. "Yes?" Her voice sounded dead in her ears.

Whatever the House-elf saw in her eyes caused the small creature to flinch. "Master will see you now. Follow, pleases?" It whimpered pitiably.

She nodded and stood, plastering a mask-like pleasant smile over the endless scream she was somehow holding inside her.

The parlor she was escorted to smelled of tobacco and sherry, with dark red wallpaper and wood paneling. A florid-faced and white-bearded wizard who was quite fat and tall with his left sleeve pinned up stood up, his brown eyes widening around a red nose caused by heavy drinking. "By Jove, it is you!"

She nodded and curtsied on autopilot, letting him kiss her hand in the social proprieties of the day for a gentleman to a lady. "Colonel. It has been a long time."

"Indeed it has." The ghost of a smug smile flickered around her lips for an instant at his friendly reply as he rubbed his chest absently. "Beastly heat, makes my bones ache."

He had not changed in almost four decades. Pity the heroic and spirited 'young lady' he knew had died in the CoNGo and then in her nePheW's study.

He continued in that warm tone before clipping a cigar. "Shanghai 1862 against the Taipings. Damned stump of the arm I lost there still itches when it's wet. You haven't changed since that day, found the Philosopher's Stone then?"

She shrugged slightly, "Something like that. Take it from me, immortality is a curse. The nice thing about dying is that the suffering you endure ends. Too bad I am stupid enough to keep living rather than die when I should have."

Colonel Gamp looked into her eyes as he slowly lowered his cigar to join the others in his ashtray. "Bloody Hell, you are not joking. What happened?" He opened a liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff drink then after he downed it, refilled his tumbler and poured her a tumbler of straight Scotch.

Colombe shook her head. "You are better off not knowing about my spot of family trouble, I fear. I mainly stopped by to wish you well and farewell before I... do what needs to be done." Her lips curled in a rictus-like smile.

He visibly connected her words with the half-mourning clothing that she wore signifying a death in the family and nodded. "Ah. Well if I may be of service, after all you did save my life at Shanghai. Beastly Taipings."

She jerked a nod as that spectral chambermaid appeared in the next room with a feather duster. "I do not wish to impose, Colonel, while I make arrangements to travel to Africa."

"Ah! Africa. My granddaughter's betrothed has a close friend from school that is knowledgeable about the Dark Continent. They shall be coming here tomorrow along with other members of his family for a dinner party, if you do not mind me imposing on you to be our guest for the weekend." His elderly face lit up before he coughed and wiped his bleeding lips with a handkerchief. "Bloody consumption."

She murmured in that near-dead voice. "You do me too much honour, Colonel. I shall, of course, accept your gracious invitation and introduction to meet this gentleman."

With that she curtsied and kissed his hand. The maid in the other room paused her dusting to stare in shock at the young lady being so forward.

The Colonel laughed and wheezed. "At least you are in a dress for your visit instead of those breeches you wore traipsing around China unchaperoned save by my troops, Madamoiselle du Chasteler. Simply scandalous!"

As Colombe gave the ghost of a polite chuckle to join his laughter, a spectral feather duster dropped from the shocked hands of an un-manifested house spirit blushing bright scarlet.

A.N.-Colombe is in a baaad headspace here. This is a few months after she crawled out of the Congo and then impaled her nephew for his treachery. The good news is that she has nowhere to go but up from rock bottom now.

 

[darthcourt10]

Yellowhammer

Dove at a Dinner Party: Part The Second

A Comedy of Ill-Manners, Shocking French 'Customs', and a Fire in the Rubbish Skip

Passel House

Saturday, May 13th, 1899
Spoiler: Enroute to Passel House

"Your nephew is a prat, you know." The gentleman in the hansom cab emblazoned with the arms of the Potter family (D'or,à trois pie oiseau de sable et argent,2 et 1) observed quietly to the lady sitting next to him as they rode through the late-morning fog.
Spoiler: The Potter Heraldry

Lyra Potter laughed musically, "Oh absolutely, Ian. He's a Black after all, and we only come in two varieties. Libertines and prats."

Ian Potter grinned happily at his wife, "Lucky for me I acquired a libertine. At least you can make this social round to meet our future niece-in-law bearable."

Lyra grinned back saucily, "We will do our best to spice it up. Still I wish that we were back in Japan rather than performing our social requirements. I love England dearly, but it is so stifling. Can't do this, can't dare show that you have knowledge of that. Even if behind closed doors the lady of the estate we are calling upon is being screwed silly by the stableboy while the master tumbles the chambermaids. Hypocrites."

Ian stared at his smirking wife, "Surely not the Gamps!? I knew old Theophilus during my first trip to the Far East before I met you and he was hardly the type."

"Oh not him, dear. He's a stick-in-the-mud fuddy-duddy and he married Iris Dodderidge after his first wife passed away. A more staid, cowlike example of the fairer sex would be impossible to find even before her death and her daughter is more of the same from what I have heard." Lyra laughed, "No if you want a good scandal to set 'proper' society's tongues wagging, you need someone with a little fire and passion, such as a Longbottom, a Black, or best of all a Malfoy. Unfortunately those blonde vipers are entirely too good at using their money, power, and connections to arrange for the cover-up to avoid damaging 'their precious family'. You only get whispered rumors of why one of their daughters is in the South of France at a private spa on grounds of 'frail health' which suddenly clears up nine months later or a second son decided to find his fortune in Australia or Africa out of the blue after a Veela maid 'ran off suddenly'." Lyra's eyes flashed and her face darkened.

Ian squeezed her gloved hand, "Bad experiences?" he said sympathetically.

Lyra deflated slightly, 'Not me personally, thankfully, but I knew some other girls at Hogwarts two decades ago who were... well... seduced, ruined, and abandoned is the short version of what happened. And of course because they were only from 'one of the colonies' in the one case and from a 'Muggle family' in the second, plus the Headmaster being the worst kind of arrogant pureblood prat."

She sighed bitterly and continued, "It is just not right. I like bed-hopping as we both know, but I'm not malicious about it and try to treat the other ladies in our life with respect. Words and betrayal can cut sharper and deeper than the katana your family has stored away in the Armory."

Ian hugged Lyra around the shoulders. "And that is reason number eleven thousand, eight hundred and seventeen why I fell for you, dearest."

Lyra sighed and leaned into Ian. She placed her hand over his and squeezed as she gently whispered. "Flatterer, you are just trying to get into my knickers tonight."

He laughed and hugged her closer as Passel House appeared ahead of them, "Well, yes, that too."

-----------------------------
Spoiler: A Dove In Mourning

As Lyra and Ian Potter presented their calling cards at the front door to Passel House, Colombe threw cold water from the basin in her room into her face, before staring at the bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face in her mirror.

Alone in the guest room that Colonel Gamp had put her up in, she bowed her head and bit her lip before breathing out then in deeply.

Her sleep had been restless at best, nightmares of her past plaguing her.

Ghosts in a silent parade continually watching her, mercilessly judging her.

Even now, awake and alone, she could feel invisible eyes on her....

With that she shrugged and locked the door. She gave her mourning dress a dirty look before dressing in it. Finally attired properly for the 'grieving young lady that society said that she would have to be', she examined herself in the mirror. With a smug smirk, she then snapped her fingers, transfiguring it to the much more comfortable riding boots, breeches, and ruffled linen shirt from the first half of the 1700s that was her preferred habit.

She suddenly whirled at the feeling of outraged disapproval, her sword flying from the nightstand to her hand at a gesture.

For a brief instant, she saw that blonde maid's ghost in the room with her with a bedwarmer full of hot coals to dry out and heat up a bed. Then... nothing as the maid gave her a surprised look and vanished before her eyes.

She bitterly laughed and whispered. "I can't go mad yet. I have things to do first."

Another shake of her head and a glance at the sun outside through the lifting fog persuaded her that she should find something to do.

With that she shrugged and sheathed herself before wrapping a shawl of Kashmiri wool around the sword to 'ward off the cold' later. Another snap of the fingers and her dress reappeared, wouldn't do to get thrown out before she talked to that African expert.

She headed down the back stairs and out the back door to the gardens and brand new Orangery that the Colonel had spoken fondly of over dinner.

Perhaps there she could get some exercise in and clear her head.

---------------------------------

Lyra Potter curtsied to Hesper Gamp. "It was a pleasant chat, Miss Gamp, but I see my nephew has arrived. I think that I should take in the gardens now that the beastly fog has lifted."

Getting a courteous nod and murmured words of dismissal, Lyra made her escape. Already the blue-eyed and dark-haired Hesper's gaze was focused on the window where her nephew Sirius was dismounting from his broom alongside his friend Corvus Lestrange.

Silently Lyra pitied the female house-elf servant who was having to be a chaperone for that meeting. Sirius was not the worst of her relatives by far, but he certainly had an eye for the ladies. That said, the one she had heard rumors about was Corvus Lestrange, who according to the whispers did not believe in unwillingness or the lady being married to have his way with her.

Not for the first time, Lyra scowled behind her bone and rice paper fan showing Japanese ladies walking through a snow-covered Japanese garden at the unfairness of it all.

A Corvus Lestrange or Sirius Black spending time intimately with ladies interested in them and they were the subject of grudging approval from the other young men. A Lyra Potter wishing to scratch her many and multifarious itches, and she was an object of scorn and shame to all and sundry thanks to the whispered stories of 'unnatural lusts'. Which were quite natural, thank you so very much.

She then smiled like a cat in the cream as she headed down the garden path to the Orangery.

At least she had been fortunate enough to marry a good man who had made accommodations for her needs and desires in his own unconventional way. Once again she promised herself that she would do something extra-special for her Ian once she had privacy.

It would be a lot easier on her hormones if Ian had not been ambushed by Cousin Phineas in the smoking room and so unable to join her instead of being stuck in a discussion about potion ingredient trade policies.

Poor Ian.

Closing the door behind her, she found a secluded bower among the flowering trees in the vacant garden inside.

"Perfect." With that, she pulled out her wand (Hornbeam with a veela hair core, ten and a half inches, smooth and slippery) to cast concealment and privacy charms.

Satisfied with her arrangements, Lyra sat down to write in her favorite notebook.

After all, it was either this or solitary vice until Ian tracked her down or she had to go in for dinner. This time the coin she had mentally flipped came up with Queen Victoria's head.

 

[darthcourt10]

SkyeFire

Even corruption can be kind.

(note: this omake is, as always, optionally canonical. Partly b/c I'm playing with other people's characters, and especially in this case b/c I'm playing in some "grey areas" regarding the full extent of Nameless' amnesia that have not, TTBOMK, been established in-story as yet)

(this takes place sometime fairly early in Nameless' stay at Casa de Muramasa, when she's still struggling to come to grips with her newly reduced condition)

(So, people were asking for more Nameless&Kyoshu cutes. Instead, I found myself writing some Nameless&Akutoku... interactions)

*-*-*-*-*

The Masamune sword who currently went by the nom de guerre of "Nameless" sat in the wheelchair she despised, but could not function without, pulled up closely to her host's dining table. It was fortunate that this table was Western-styled and tall enough to be seated at, unlike the family-room kotetsu-table which she thought she might have enjoyed… had she been capable of using it.

In the hours between midnight and dawn, seeking privacy as she struggled with her shame, she'd covertly crawled into the hated wheelchair and crept out of the room she shared with Kyoshu. In front of her on the table were a neat stack of books in varying languages, an open notebook that combined college-ruled even-numbered pages with engineering grid-ruled odd-numbered pages, several plain yellow pencils, a small sharpener for same, and an eraser.

Sending up a brief prayer that she might find some success this time, to whatever deities might deign to hear, she opened the first book, picked a simple word, and began laboriously attempting to copy it in her notebook.

A full hour and several silent, internal screaming fits of humiliated frustration later, she gave up her final attempt to graphically duplicate just a single letter, using the graph paper, and set the book aside with hands that shook from the blinding desire to throw it, or better yet burn it, or shred it with her steel self (were she still capable of wielding her steel in anything but the most ham-handed fashion). It wasn't the book's fault, after all. And whatever she had forgotten, she remembered that self discipline was one of the virtues of a warrior. She could not remember learning that, when or where or from whom, but the fact remained.

She dully wondered if remembering the learning of that lesson would make it less hard to adhere to, as she opened the next book in the stack.

...drat. A language she could not even identify, much less read. Nameless forced herself to take a deep, cleansing breath, imagining her anger as a toxic vapor in her lungs, expelled into the air to dissipate as she exhaled. No idea where she'd learned that, either, but her body remembered the exercise, so she must have used it often. Before.

This book also set aside, she paused to take stock. Checking her mental notes (as she was, so far, unable to make written ones), she tallied her current score over the past few days of late-night attempts:

Languages she could read: 4 (2 fluently, one with difficulty, one just barely)

Languages she could identify but not read: 5 (mostly those using derivatives of Chinese characters)

Languages she could write or transcribe even a single character in: 0

A good guest, she reminded herself, did not flip over furniture whilst everyone was sleeping, no matter how tempting the cathartic release. There was nothing for it but to continue, thoroughly and methodically. Reading must have been a preferred pastime for her, before, given how pleasant it felt, how eagerly her hands turned pages, the simple delight in fleshing out the scaffolding of printed words into vibrant cathedrals of imagination. At least, when the omnipresent sense of her condition was not poisoning even such simple joys as that damned mage had left to her.

"Nameless" bent her head over the paper, and chose the next book in the pile.

She was nearing the bottom of the stack, hours later (Read: 5, Identified: 7, Written: Zero), when an unexpected "hmm" from beside her ear made her leap-- er, jerk violently.

"Owwww," protested Akutoku, ruefully rubbing the spot where Nameless' reaction had clonked their heads together. Nameless realized she was mirroring the Sword of Corruption's action, and pulled her hands back into her lap, trying to emulate her best guess of what a Proper Masamune's behavior should be since she couldn't remember it.

Then she realized that the Muramasa must have been watching over her shoulder, completely unnoticed, for long enough to recognize Nameless' failing attempts at literacy for what they were, and found herself unable to avoid flushing with shame. She stared down at her lap, wishing the earth would simply open up and swallow her, and her shame, whole.

"Hmmm." Akutoku had picked up her notebook and was flipping through the pages with a clinical air, rather unlike what Nameless had observed of the other sword-spirit in their limited interactions too date.

"Well, that explains some things," the Muramasa sighed, dropping into the chair kitty-corner from Nameless. "That damned mage didn't just spike your speech center, he hit the entire symbolic processing hierarchy of your brain. And only on the output side, which is a neat trick."

...dignity be hanged, Nameless decided, this justified a frank, open-jawed stare. Akutoku noticed, and blushed slightly.

"Hey, now, don't mistake me, I'm no brain scientist. But when you're a writer or artist, you usually end up picking up a few things about how the brain interprets stuff. Plus, after Kyoshu, well..." she paused a bit uncomfortably. "The entire family sort of took up reading the latest magazine articles on brains, and memory, as a side line."

Nameless nodded, trying to convey That is perfectly understandable.

"At any rate," Akutoku continued, seeming to warm to her topic, "we know spoken and written language are handled by completely separate parts of the brain. The division between 'input' and 'output' inside those sections are less clearly defined, as I recall, but, well, magic." She made a face that Nameless felt herself involuntarily mirror. "You're obviously still able to read, and more than one language, I'm guessing…?"

Nameless held up five fingers, struggling with the sensation that she was bragging.

"Right. And your comprehension of spoken Japanese, at least, seems undiminished."

Nameless nodded assent.

"So, whatever that bastard did, he wanted you able to understand, but unable to communicate." Akutoku scowled, hands making involuntary neck-wringing motions. "Makes sense, I guess – just taking away your voice wouldn't have stopped you from sending notes, or email if you could get to a computer, or-- hey! Have you tried Morse code?"

A few quick attempts demonstrated that Nameless had probably never known Morse code – Akutoku's pattern of finger-taps on the tabletop didn't seem familiar at all. Akutoku promised to find some books on other, alternative codes, just in case.

"I should have known that would be too easy," Akutoku said glumly, supporting her chin on her hand. Behind her, Nameless could see the first light of dawn starting to lighten the window, and thought to wonder what had roused the notoriously slug-a-bed Muramasa from her bed so early. And also, wonder at this previously-unseen face of the Sword of Corruption – while their interactions had been limited, Akutoko's interactions with the rest of her family had been… hard to miss. She had always seemed, frankly, lazy, perverted, and prone to teasing and arguing with her sisters. These new depths had not even been hinted at.

"Thing is," Akutoku was musing slowly, "language isn't the only way to communicate. I mean, Kyoshu seems to be able to understand you amazingly well, even if she's not the most, er, reliable translator."

Nameless thought of her interactions so far with the Sword of Goldfish Memories, and could only nod ruefully.

"Not that we have any idea how she does it. But there's other ways to get your point across." She opened the notebook to a blank page, seized one of Nameless' pencils, and started sketching in quick, efficient strokes. "Like art. Okay, tell me, what's this?" She spun the page to face Nameless.

The mute Masamune shot the loquacious Muramasa an exasperated look, then looked at the page. It was… well, quite minimal, but it was fairly obviously… she raised one fist, and stroked two fingers of her other hand across it, as if slicing pieces off.

"A potato, right!" Akutoku grinned. "But, context matters. And so does your audience. If I showed this to an astronomer, I bet they'd say it was an asteroid. A geologist would probably say rock."

Nameless blinked, and looked at the sketch again. Yes, she could see the artist's point….

"Now, the thing is, any piece of art is an interactive experience." Akutoku was leaning across the table, eyes gleaming. "It's a collaboration between the artist and the audience. I can't make my readers perceive exactly what I'm trying to convey, because they all bring their own conceptual filters and biases. And drawing is more open to interpretation than words, so it's hard to be precise. But, over the years, mangaka and readers have developed a sort of 'visual shorthand' for simple ways to convey certain complex ideas, that everyone agrees on. You don't have to use that, of course, but it's a preexisting dictionary that you wouldn't have to teach people."

The Sword of Corruption's hands were making wide, sweeping gestures – Nameless had the sudden certainty that Akutoku honestly enjoyed this subject, and didn't get to talk about it often. At least, not to anyone who would listen.

"And of course, speaking is usually faster than drawing, but again, the 'visual shorthand' in manga is a way to convey a lot with as few lines as possible." Her expression turned wry. "There's nothing like a life of deadlines to motivate people to find ways to convey as much as possible as efficiently as possible. And, again, the visual 'language' of manga is one that almost everyone already knows. So you can use that as a starting point."

Nameless blinked. On the one hand… manga? The word reflected back from the walled-off parts of her mind with connotations of "childish, immature, pornographic," and other unflattering terms. And yet… the idea of having a voice again, even such a limited one….

She didn't notice she had snatched back the notebook until her pencil met paper… and froze.

...she had no idea what to do next. When she attempted to write, there was at least the ghost of a memory, the knowledge that she had known once how to do it. But drawing? There was nothing.

Akutoku had been watching her face, and spoke up hastily. "Hey, now, it's too early to get discouraged! You don't exactly have to be Hasegawa Tohaku to make this work. Hell, you should see what I turned out, back when I was just starting – it took me years to learn how to do anything better than stick figures!"

She blushed slightly in response to Nameless' quizzical eyebrow. "Well, I didn't even start until a few decades ago. Turned out it was not something that came naturally. Took a lot of work."

Nameless cocked her head inquiringly. Akutoku seemed to shrink a bit, and glanced around the room as if afraid of being overheard. "Well, it's… that is..." She took a deep breath, looking embarrassed. "The whole 'Crazy Muramasa Sword' gig got… old, after a while. After the Sengoku Jidai, then the Meiji Restoration and Boshin War, we'd all… well, most of us… started to get our fill of blood and killing. Was sort of a 'midlife crisis,' you know? Not all at once, but… after a while, you start wondering if this is all there is to your life. If you could be… more. And it didn't help that, even with all our special abilities, technology was making us less and less relevant." Her eyes grew troubled. "Inspiring an entire battalion into a frenzied howling-for-blood charge doesn't account for much, when the other side has machine guns and artillery."

She slapped the table, as if trying to dispell the sudden feeling of ghosts crowding around them. "Anyway! Problem was, we were still "crazy Muramasas," and 'dear ol' Dad' had saddled us with a lot of… let's call 'em 'personality quirks'." Couldn't get rid of 'em, so we needed to find some sort of coping mechanism. Chi went all Zen Buddhist, Juuchi apparently went all tsundere for that British family whose brains she couldn't scramble, Umi… well, Umi was always a bossy mother-hen… and me?" Akutoku grinned a bit sheepishly. "Well, 'Sword of Corruption,' yeah? Drawing eroge and H actually pays, and gives me an outlet for my… proclivities… that doesn't hurt anyone. It's..." she looked away suddenly, swallowing. "It's better than what I did in the old days."

Nameless found herself doing something she never would have imagined: reaching out and patting the Muramasa's hand comfortingly. Akutoku stared at their hands and whispered "thanks", before plastering on a Kagotsuruhe-style grin and standing up. "Anyways! I have a lot of beginner manga books, and more 'artsy' training books too. Lemme go grab a few to start you off with!"

Thus began an impromptu drawing lesson that continued as the sun came up. Kyoshu came wandering in at some point, in her pajamas and dragging her blanket like a toddler, muttering something about being cold. Umitsubame came in to start on breakfast some time later, only to find their wheelchair-bound guest bookended by Kyoshu (sleeping on Nameless' shoulder, with a blanket wrapped around them both) on one side, and Akutoku on the other, both wakeful swords bent over various books and papers together.

Umi's not-completely-awake mind split into several parallel tracks at this sight.
Awww, that's so cute, my teeth hurt.
WTF am I seeing? I wasn't working on any hallucinogenic potions yesterday.
Akutoku is sounding like an actual, professional teacher? What is this, Invasion of the Body Snatchers?
...my blood-coffee levels are too low for dealing with this shit.

 

[darthcourt10]

mikelima777

January 20th, 2014

Entrance to the Strait of Juan De Fuca, Off Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada
Morning

The Straits of Juan de Fuca were once again full of activity, as a massive formation of vessels sailed out to welcome ships coming from a long voyage from Asia.

Battleships Canada, Laurentia, and Evangeline were out in force, alongside their eldest British sister Queen Elizabeth. The three younger Canadian Queen Elizabeth-class battleships were doing their best to hide their nerves as unlike their older sisters, they had little combat experience, aside from training and patrols. The Abyssal threat had largely faded from the Pacific Northwest, though plans were in the works for the Canadians to join other nations in operations to further liberate territory from the Abyssals. Cruisers Quebec and the N2 cruisers were also with the battleships, ready to engage surface and air threats. Also with them was the battleship Washington and a number of cruisers from Naval Base Kitsap. Ahead of the improvised battle line, pairs of destroyers were on patrol, looking out for both expected and unexpected guests.

Further back, Bonaventure already had a group of Banshees in the air, sailing alongside a bemused Lexington, who still didn't understand the craziness of the much smaller carrier. Bonnie had a grin on her face, but not for something headache-inducing she had done. Rather, it was for her new "protege," Habakkuk. Despite the mild weather in British Columbia, Habbukuk was still comfortable with deploying her rigging and sending out squadrons of fighters and attack aircraft on patrol. Nevertheless, the massive carrier had made a sizable dent in the region's supply of slushies, with dozens of 7-Elevens and other convenience stores urgently ordering fresh supplies of syrup or juice for their machines.

Well behind the shipgirl force were steel ships from the Royal Canadian Navy and the United States Navy. As Blood Week had shown, modern warships were vulnerable at close ranges and could be overwhelmed by hordes of Abyssals. They kept their radar on standby, in case of uninvited visitors on this day, as well as other contingencies. But aboard the ships, many were preparing to welcome back a convoy from Japan. And for a few of the personnel, it was much more personal, as they were going to welcome colleagues once thought lost on Blood Week, as well as the ship that endured after all those years.

US Navy P-8A Poseidon and RCAF CP-140 Aurora patrol aircraft had first contacted the convoy along the Alaskan coastline, sailing down the Alaskan Panhandle to the northern coast of British Columbia. Tugboats had been placed on standby to assist, though thankfully HMCS Regina reported no further complications to her propulsion.

Finally, at 11 AM, a shape appeared over the horizon, blaring its horn. The convoy had arrived.

Leading the convoy was the Province-class missile destroyer HMCS British Columbia. A few of HMCS Regina's crewmembers were confused when they first spotted the ship, mistaking it for an Arleigh Burke or one of the Japanese AEGIS destroyers. However, there was no mistaking the origin of the ship's two funnels, which were clearly based on the funnel of the Halifax-class, or the Canadian Naval Ensign flying from the mainmast. Soon, it was followed by the Hamilton-class frigate Kelowna, then by USS Ralph Johnson. Soon, other vessels appeared over the horizon, along with shipgirls leaving wakes as they skated across the waters. The container ships were still keeping formation for now, though it was expected they would soon disperse to the ports of Seattle and Vancouver.

On the shipgirls, hundreds of fairies manned the rails in salute as the old frigate passed by. The four N2-class cruisers began to fire blanks in a gun salute.

High above, a helicopter captured footage of the Wardens sailing in formation. Debates and questions would soon ensue both in Canada and abroad, as the camera zoomed in on Tandy, spotting the Canadian flag on her riggings before more footage showed Canadian flags flying from all of the Wardens. Then the helicopter focused on the ship sailing behind the Wardens, the main reason for all of the military presence. Despite still bearing the signs of use and age, HMCS Regina still carried an air of resilience and pride, as a massive Canadian Flag flew on her mast alongside the Royal Canadian Naval Ensign. Also flying from the mast was the
flag of the City of Regina, the namesake of the old Halifax-class frigate, while another Canadian flag flew from the bow. Flanking Regina were two of her surviving sister ships, Vancouver and Calgary. It had been almost nine years since the last time the ships were together at CFB Esquimalt.

HMCS Regina was soon led by tugboats towards the pier at CFB Esquimalt, officially ending what may be the longest sortie by a Canadian warship, with some crew members reuniting with family. Engineers from the base would soon be pouring over the vessel, to record every bit of damage and wear the ship had gained since her reported disappearance. The Wardens, under escort, were led to a ramp, where Admiral Lombard stood alongside dignitaries and other VIPs. Civilians and news teams were also on hand. After a few minutes of sitting in the water, their leader stepped onto the ramp, dismissing her rigging. Tandy Ferguson, daughter of Hoppou, the Northern Ocean Princess, took her first steps on her adoptive country and became the first Abyssal to ever step on Canadian soil not out of malice, but as an immigrant.

In front of the cameras, Tandy stepped forwards at an even, measured pace, flanked by Haida and Nootka. She finally stopped in front of Admiral Lombard, appearing stoic despite her nervousness. Standing at attention, her right arm snapped into a salute.

Several dozen miles north, a small group of five vessels observed the proceedings in silence, with wards to mask their heat signature and radar profile. Some might have found it odd to see a Cold War-era Annapolis-class helicopter destroyer joined by a C-class destroyer and three River-class frigates, the latter four mostly in WWII configuration. From the hangar of HMCS Severn, two scouts on brooms took off, heading to relieve the previous pair who had been on patrol for over four hours. By one of the frigates, an Orca approached a hanging ladder before seemingly shrinking down and melting away, becoming an indigenous man who was already looking forward to some rest.

Aboard the Severn, a young officer approached and saluted the Captain. "Sir, Crawford reports no signs of hostile abyssals." The captain nodded with a slight smile, "Excellent Lieutenant. And with no one spotting us, I do believe it's our time to head home. Thank God MACUSA didn't get involved."

"Sir?"

"Those Yanks still have idiots trying to hold on to the damned Statute and Rappenport's Law. Our Ministry of Magic has already finalized the transition plans to reunite with our nomaj counterparts. Hell, the Ministry's taxation department is already in talks with folks from the Canadian Revenue Agency. Last I've heard, a number of MACUSA congressmen are still pushing for stricter enforcement of the Statute. While others are pushing for the immediate ending of the Statue."

The Captain then gestured to another officer. "Comms, inform Crawford, Silvermoon, Tkaronto, and Mille Roches to prepare to return to base. Time to head home."

******
Comments? Thoughts on the Canadian MoM's navy?

 

[darthcourt10]

Yellowhammer

Dove at a Dinner Party: Part The Third

A Comedy of Ill-Manners, Shocking French 'Customs', and a Fire in the Rubbish Skip

Passel House Orangery

Saturday, May 13th, 1899
Spoiler: A Meeting Among The Trees


Colombe d'Aubigny du Chasteler stepped into the glass-walled Orangery and closed the door behind her. A whispered incantation in Hindi and a pair of hand passes locked the door behind her and placed an alarm and privacy ward on it. Hurrying the length of the Orangery with her determined stride, her unseeing eyes glided past the short dark-haired witch dressed in a ruby-red silk dress encased in her own privacy ward who was writing with a somewhat perverted smile on her face in a shaded nook between two of the orange trees that lined the glass walls and shielded the inside from observation.
Spoiler: The Orangery

At the far door, another incantation and gesture locked and warded the other door to the building. Colombe bowed her head, and then spoke aloud to the ghosts that had been haunting her for the last day.

"I can feel your eyes on me and I just don't care! Go ahead and do your worst, I'll still do what is right!"

--------------------------------

Lyra's head snapped up at the unexpected and unfamiliar female voice with the French accent in her English, and she looked out from her niche to see a blonde girl in a dove-gray mourning dress with her back to the witch.

The blonde snapped her fingers, and the dress shifted to a pair of very tight fitting dark brown breeches (covering a delightful derrière), a cream-colored linen shirt with ruffles at the neck and wrist, and polished black riding boots. The overall impression was a character from a Dumas historical novel, heightened by the blonde unwrapping the shawl she carried and throwing it over a nearby chair behind her with an arrogant grace. That revealed a swordbelt of some iridescent scaled leather, which she buckled to her hip with the ease of unconscious familiarity.

One hand caressed the golden hilt of the rapier gently before the mystery woman about faced with a slap of leather on leather from her boots. Above her, the sun broke through the clouds to illuminate the figure through the glass of the roof.

Lyra licked suddenly dry lips and her hands clenched in the folds of her ruby-red silk dress at the sight of the girl - no young woman! - in front of her.

Her tanned face was heart-shaped with high angular cheekbones below a noticeable widow's peak in her gold hair. Her crystal blue eyes with just the barest hint of an almond shape surrounded a small, straight nose gently turned up at the tip. Full ruby red lips above a narrow pointed chin curled in an arrogantly smug smirk as the mystery woman replied with considerable passion and emotion in her voice.

"No matter what it costs, me, no matter what it takes, I swear that I'll cleanse the stain on our family's honor! What's the matter, cat got your tongue, ghost?"

Lyra's eyes widened as she realized that thanks to her privacy wards, the mystery Frenchwoman thought that she was alone. Then her eyes traced down to the triangle of tanned skin where the linen shirt was unbuttoned down to the midpoint between her clearly feminine cleavage.

Small but scrumptious...

"Hmmph. Figures." The figure's challenging smirk widened as her left hand took hold of the sheath for her rapier. "Time to have some fun before I have to play the grieving girl this afternoon."

Her face turned murderous and her eyes flashed with pain, guilt, and grief as she hissed venomously. "Not that I would do anything other than piss in the coffin of my murdering, treacherous, slave-owning bâtard of a great-grandnephew if he were here now!" Her voice raised volume as she continued, fire flashing from her eyes and tears trickling down her cheeks, "'Investments in the Congo' he said and then tried to bury me there as an impediment to his plans for wizardry. Well I'm not dead yet, nor am I your pawn! You hear me Hippolyte!!"

The last was said in a scream of pain and fury that caused Lyra to wince, remembering a dark night her fifth year in the Slytherin Dormitories. Lyra remembered hearing a young pregnant girl named Lenora Miller, abandoned by almost all her friends and the young man who she had thought had 'loved her', scream like that into her tear-soaked pillow when she thought no one was listening to her shame and grief. A young girl who her family had strongly discouraged Lyra from befriending and supporting because of her middle-class Mudblood heritage.

A young girl, who had 'drowned in a swimming accident' when she visited her Muggle parents over the summer at Brighton. Lyra knew deep down that Lenora had elected to swim out to sea and not cast any charms that would have saved her life... so to never return to a school and other people who had wounded her so cruelly.

A young girl who had at least one person in her House privately mourn her when the news reached Hogwarts. A person who was too cowardly at that time to do the right thing and stand up to the bullying from the others and her family. A person who could have saved Lenora's life and a soul - and did not.

From long talks with Ian and her Arashi Clan 'fellow wives', Lyra knew full well now that having someone to share a burden could enable a broken and hurting soul to mend and endure the unendurable just by getting through another day. But not having someone that could give simple human kindness and love and even the strongest will would snap sooner or later under the weight of accumulated suffering.

And unless Lyra's eyes deceived her, this beautiful young woman was dangerously close to the point of snapping. As she controlled herself and bottled up the demons tearing her apart from the inside out behind that armor of smug self-confidence, Lyra promised herself that she would not be a coward again.

With that Lyra leaned back to observe the mystery woman as her arrogant mask was finally pinned back into place over the seething depths scarring her soul.
Spoiler: Fencing Practice

"En garde!"

With that her left thumb moved and steel flashed brilliantly as her rapier flew into the air from the sheath, only to be plucked out of the air at the height of its arc with her right hand with the casual grace paired with blinding speed of a trout snapping up a fly.

"Prêt!"

In the same motion her right foot stepped forward and her left back to place her in a picture-perfect fencing stance as her steel assumed a ready position for fencing.

"Allez!"

Charmwork and intricate enchantments flashed to life the length of her blade and along the hilt as she advanced with a precise series of slashes, parries, ripostes, feints, and lunges down the length of the Orangery floor as she dueled an imaginary and invisible foe.

Lyra's eyes widened as the pieces came together. The old-fashioned clothing from an era past, the contradiction between her apparent age and having a great-grandnephew who was a wizard, and the arrogant sublime skill that denoted decades of intensive and obsessive work to master that enchanted sword.

The Arashi women had told her folk tales of such entities, spirits of a weapon a century old. She had spoken to some of those spirits when Ian had shown her the storehouse of artifacts that the Potters had collected over the centuries. She had even wondered what the spirit of Ian's favorite sword might manifest as decades from now considering how he doted on Tsukiakari no Suzu.

Tsukumogami.

The rapier's spirit advanced toward her hiding spot close enough to touch and continued on in her swordplay as Lyra thought how to approach this poor girl.

The direct route was clearly out considering her anguished words of betrayal. Lyra suspected that revealing herself now would not end terribly well since she clearly was starting to go mad by speaking to people who were not here.

She certainly was not a Gamp considering there had been no recent deaths in the family.

Which meant that she must be a guest. And one thing Lyra Potter knew how to do was manage a conversation to get nuggets of information.

A rattle at the far door caused Lyra and the mystery woman to freeze.
Spoiler: An Unwelcome Interruption

Faintly from outside a young man's voice came. "Blast it all, their stupid servant must have locked the door! Don't worry my poppet, I'm sure the other door will be open so we can enjoy the blossoms in complete privacy. Come, let us go, since the course of true love awaits!"

A feminine giggle answered him.

Blast it all!

The mystery woman sprinted down the length of the hall as the footsteps outside circled the building. As she did, she waved her free hand in an intricate manner and chanted in a singsong foreign tongue that made Lyra think of the Far East while she sheathed her rapier.

With a click the doors unlocked themselves and she grabbed the shawl as she hastily unbuckled her swordbelt. Another pass of the hands and her clothing shimmered back to the mourning dress and hat that she had entered with.

Lyra watched as she headed outside as an apparent demure young lady carrying her shawl and shook her head. Then Lyra headed for the other end of the building. Opening the door, her eyes narrowed at the sight of the young man 'showing the Orangery' to the glassy-eyed daughter of the local mill owner.

"Mister Lestrange, what a pleasant surprise." Her voice was cool, crisp, and professional, revealing nothing of her feelings.

"Why Mrs. Potter, whatever brings you here?" He responded with frustrated desire under the mask of charm while he twirled his aspen wand with the insignia of the Silver Spears dueling club and multiple silver broken wand victory markings.

"I was reading there while taking in the fresh air and the flowers, sir. Alas, I fear that I must speak to my husband before changing for the afternoon's entertainments." she responded coolly. "Good day, Mr. Lestrange."

Lyra scowled as she heard the door to the Orangery lock behind the couple and her fist clenched.

She knew that she was an indifferent duelist at best but Ian might be able to....

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Feet softly moving along polished wood floors, Natsumi paused as she glanced out into the garden of the mansion... or perhaps palace, that she was in. The Kitsune could see many meanings in the garden's flowers as they rustled and whispered to her with blue ghost lights moving among them. At one end of the garden, Natsumi could see a burned home, one that she somehow knew to be of a Chinese style now centuries gone. Around it grew red spider lilies with other, wilted flowers such as red tsubaki, yellow tsubaki, white chrsythemums, and red roses. Sweet pea also grew around the burned home with other flowers of love, wilted slightly, were there.

Elsewhere in the garden though were flowers with... darker meanings.

Orange lilies grew everywhere in the garden past the invisible line dividing it from that which was around the burned home. So to were there many yellow roses as were blue asaji. But Natsumi noticed that many of them looked wilted, as if they grew fast, too fast, and were in the process of dying.

As to the house itself... it was separated from the garden by a moat, or perhaps a pond. Within it was an island made out of tumbled, broken stone. One that had two arrows sticking out of it. Around the island were lotuses floating serenely in the water. And upon the island were flowers poking out from the stone. Erica blossoms were alongside white poppies and kikyou blossoms. Here and there too, were primrose blossoms and bluebells.

Finally, lining along the building that she was in were other flowers such as white roses and white tsubaki.

Slowly, Natsumi craned her head up to look at the night sky above. There was a Full Moon that shone down upon everything, one that was originally as red as blood. But, slowly, over time it has begun to turn back to normal. When Natsumi had first visited, there was a mere shade back to normal that she had to really look to see. Now? She could see that more of the Moon had been cleared of the redness, seeming to shine brightly. And above that, she could see the Milky Way. But as always, one thing that caught her eye was one particular section where the stars seemed to be broken.

Broken, that was, except for two stars meeting in the middle of that broken place. The sight of which always made her heart jump in her chest. Part of her remembered that the break in the Milky Way did not always exist. But then, over the last few years it had formed with the two stars traveling from either side, eventually meeting in the middle.

Natsumi observed all this before shaking it off and resuming her travel down the darkened hallways. While she did not know how, she knew the way through the twisting corridors. And, as always, her feet brought her to one room. Coming to a stop, she could see that the paper of the door was painted. And in the paintings, duckweed floated serenely upon a pond, with a fox looking out upon it with nine tails.

Reaching up, the nearly fourteen year old Kitsune pushed open the door and made her way inside.

Upon entering the room, Natsumi pushed the door back closed before walking forwards towards a covered object. Almost as soon as she came to the object, her hand reached up of it's own regard and pulled the cloth away revealing a splendid mirror. Around the outside could be seen foxes and other imagery in gold. But so too were other images, such as the sight of an old monk before a large stone.

However, looking too much or hard always made Natsumi's eyes hurt. Mainly because the images shifted and changed in the flickering candle light. As if they were telling a story. But as always, the young Kitsune's eyes were drawn to something else.

That something else was of a Kitsune older than her. This was not someone on the cusp of womanhood like she sometimes saw herself. No, this was of a being well into womanhood, dressed in the finest clothes of a bygone era. Beautiful beyond measure... or she would be if not for things such as the expression upon her face, the rips and tears in her clothing alongside bloodstains. Or the blood that dripped endlessly from the blood soaked talons that were her hands. Behind her, eight tails weaved in the air where once there was nine. But other than that... nothing had changed.

For what felt like an eternity, Natsumi and the Kitsune in the mirror stared at each other. Eventually, the younger Kitsune swallowed, "You... you're Tamamo no Mae, aren't you." But if she had expected an answer, she did not get anything besides the "Reflection" tilting it's head in the same direction as her. However, Natsumi clenched her fists tightly and snarled, "WHY!? WHY DO YOU KEEP BRINGING ME BACK HERE?! WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THIS?!" She gestured around her, "ALL THIS!? WHAT IS IT THAT YOU ARE DOING AND WHAT IS THE MEANING!?"

Yet, still, there was no answer from the reflection, just a silent staring.

It was something that, if anything, got Natsumi all the more angry and frustrated. She had been having this dream for years, and yet there seemed to be no reason for it. A scowl on her face, she turned away, 'I should have known better-'

"You already know."

Just freezing, the Kitsune teenager felt a shiver run down her back. Cold sweat appeared on her skin and she shook slightly at the cold tone in the voice. Slowly, she turned back to the mirror and to her horror, discovered that the Kitsune's hand was outside the mirror right before it cupped her cheek. Warm blood, but not hers, dripped down her skin, "W-what..."

Tamamo just narrowed her eyes at her, "You already know the answer. But cannot accept it yet, or acknowledge it." Her eyes then lost their glare as she sighed, "Though that is to be expected." Pulling back her hand, the infamous Kitsune made a motion towards the door, "Go to him! Fly as if you were upon the wind for he is in danger!"

Confused at what was happening, Natsumi boggled, "H-him? Him who-" He eyes widened and her breath caught, "Harry-Chan..."

Due to her shock and dismay, she missed what Tamamo said next and only caught the last few words, "... he is known now..." Before she could ask, the Kitsune gave her a saddened look as she seemed to sink further into the mirror, disappearing into the depths even as the room around them began to fade, "Do what we failed to do and protect what is ours..."

Moments later, Natsumi woke up with a start and looked around. Her entire futon was utterly soaked with sweat as was she. Gulping in air, she stared with wide eyes before she threw off her blankets, followed by her sleeping yukata. The young Kitsune rushed towards her dresser and began to pull out her clothes and was putting them on when a sleepy, confused Haru opened her door, "Natsumi-Chan? What is going on here?"

Looking over at her and nearly tripping, Natsumi's expression brought her aunt up short, "Harry-Chan's in trouble, Oba-Chan! I need to get to Hogwarts right now!"

Quickly walking over, the older Kitsune placed her hand on Natsumi's shoulders, "Harry-San is in trouble? How? And when did you learn this?"

A blush dusted Natsumi's face as she took a deep breath. It sounded impossible inside her head, but she swallowed, "I... had a dream. The same one that I told you and Haha-ue about when I was younger. B-but this time she spoke to me."

Suddenly, she was turned so that she could face her aunt directly. Haru had an ashen expression on her face and her tone was that of utter seriousness, "She spoke to you, Natsumi-Chan? What did she say?!"

With a swallow, Natsumi told her exactly what had happened in the dream and what was said. All of which did not make Haru's expression any better. There was fear there as well, but not just for herself but Natsumi as well, which the teenaged Kitsune could understand. For a few moments, Haru had a thoughtful, though worried face before she gave a nod, "Okay, Natsumi-Chan. What we are going to do is I am going to contact the base and find out if Harry-San is alright-"

Mouth working for a moment, Natsumi shook her head, "B-but Oba-Chan, Harry-"

Placing a finger against her niece's lips, Haru shook her head, "Possibly alright, but we do not know that for certain. If he is in danger, we'll know of it soon enough." Adjusting her own Yukata, she took a deep breath, "In the meantime, I shall also be getting breakfast ready despite the hour."

Fifteen minutes later found the five tail shaking her head as she got off the phone with Nagato. Placing the phone down, she looked at Natsumi who was bouncing with a sigh, "Nagato-San does not know if anything is wrong with Harry-San, Natsumi-Chan. So chances are that he is fine."

Only shaking her head, Natsumi frowned, "No he's not, Oba-Chan! I... I can feel something is wrong."

With a sigh, Haru simply nodded and began to make herself some coffee and Natsumi her black tea, "I see. Well it is almost three in the morning, so I suppose that we shall just have to wait and see."

Despite wanting to ignore her elder and rush out the door for the base, the nearly fourteen year old sat down even as worry gnawed at her.
___________________________________________________________________

It was almost eight in the morning when Natsumi snapped awake from a doze as a wave of pure anger, rage, and hate spiritually passed her by. Part of her shivered due to said emotions... Yet, another part shivered because of what she knew it meant and whom it had come from, "Hoppou!"

Also snapping awake in her chair, Haru turned wide eyes to the base and then rushed over to the phone. Moments later, she punched in the number for a certain Battleship and waited until the phone was answered, "Nagato-San, it is Haru and-" Her eyes widened at the answer and she froze in place. Eventually, she just nodded and swallowed, "Yes, understood. Do not worry about us, though you know what is going to happen. Goodbye, Nagato-San."

Utterly lost in worry, Natsumi barely heard what her aunt was saying before her head snapped up to find Haru's hand on her shoulder, "O-Oba-Chan?"

Expression utterly serious, the older Kitsune grimaced, "Harry-San was just attacked, by Dementors. From what Nagato-San said, it had to have been at least as many as at that one game." Seeing Natsumi about to leap off the chair and run, Haru shook her head, "Harry-San is alright, they didn't manage to Kiss him. But he's unconscious in the infirmary right now and Nagato-San is going to get more information on what happened. Until then, you are going to stay right here with me, and we shall go with Hoshi-San as well as Siusan-San. Haruka-San might join us as well."

Eyes wide, Natsumi looked up at her, "B-but Oba-Chan..."

Turned away, Haru took a deep breath, "We have to wait for the others, Natsumi-Chan. Then we go as one group... in the meantime." Looking over her shoulder, the five tail's expression became gentle, "In the meantime, get packed for who knows how many days. If Harry-San is not coming home, I will call the school and let them know that you will be out of it for a week for a family emergency."

Shoulders slumping in relief, the teenager let out a breath that she did not know that she was even holding, "Hai, Oba-Chan." Rushing over, she gave her aunt a hug before rushing out, "I'll go and get ready now."

Only nodding, Haru gave a brief, small smile before turning back to the window with her expression becoming worried as she mulled over what had happened...

It was several hours later that found Natsumi running ahead of the other Kitsune and one Irish Fox spirit. Due to all the time that she had spent in Hogwarts alongside Harry, she knew her way to the Hospital Wing. Around her the floors and paintings blurred. So worried was Natsumi, that she did not notice that upon hitting the Grand Staircase, that she was at the bottom and then at the floor needed within a few seconds, having leapt forwards.

Behind her, Hoshi's eyes widened a touch at seeing Natsumi blur as she rocketed up the stairs.

However, none of that matter to Natsumi. Because in the end, as she reached the doors to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, only one thing mattered. Skidding to a stop, she reached out to the door... and opened it.

Inside the Hospital Wing, early morning sunlight streamed in through the windows. Any conversation stopped as they noticed the panting teenager there who was looking around. That was, until her eyes fell upon another teen laying in a bed. Harry blinked some in surprise, "Natsumi-Chan?"

One step, and then two steps from the Kitsune were followed by many more as tears ran from her eyes. This time, she didn't skid to a halt, but leapt onto the bed and hugged Harry tightly, "Harry-Chan..." After everything, her worry only abated at feeling his warm body against hers, feeling his arms wrap around her shoulders, "Harry-Chan..." The familiar scent that tickled her nose made Natsumi more calm as she realized that her worst fears were not realized, "Harry-Chan... you're alright."

Hugging her back, Harry could only nod, "Hai, I am..." Nuzzling her head, he gave a sigh, "Sorry that I scared you, Natsumi-Chan. I didn't mean to."

For a few moments, the two teens looked each other in the eye as Natsumi brought up her hand... and brought it down on his head in a bop, "Baka! I know that you didn't mean to!" Tightening the hug, she sniffled a little, "You never mean to... but you still made me worry about you. So you better be ready for me to hang around until I am sure that you won't get into any trouble!"

For a few moments, Harry blinked before smiling and closing his eyes as he leaned his head against Natsumi's, "Understood, Natsumi-Chan... Understood..."

 

[darthcourt10]

Shinr



This is a slightly revised version of my old snip that introduced the then nameless Fukai Akiko to better work with latter developments, and make her plan slightly less shortsighted/suicidal in her view.

Of course, her shortsightedness in the initial snippet is now burned into canon, so you may consider this one non-canon.

----

Summer 2014

Yokosuka Naval Base, Nagato Residence

It was well past midnight, with the family of a battleship-turned-woman, a child-like incarnation of drowned children, a dragon goddess in training, two sentient swords and a fourteen-year old mortal wizard were all in deep slumber.

An unnatural slumber forced by complex magic.

And in the room where Harry slept, a tall feminine figure with fox ears and nine fox tails appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Spoiler: Kyuubi*

If one knowledgeable in youkai politics were to look at her, they would recognize the Nine-Tailed Kitsune as Fukai Akiko, 8th Head of the Fukai Clan, the traditional staunch enemies of the Ono Family.

Those knowledgeable in spiritual magic would also note that it was not her true self that was present in the room, but her spiritual projection, Akiko's true body sitting in a meditating pose in the ritual chamber, deep within the main Fukai Clan compound in the mountains on the other side of Japan.

Regardless, one way or another Akiko was here, trespassing on the Naval Base, and with her own unparalleled mastery of projection arts, stealth techniques and many favors spent to create this chance, she was poised to break the Ono's recent rise of fortunes.

And what better way to hurt her enemies, than by stealing what they hold dear and making it truly hers?

Harry Potter, the so called Boy-Who-Lived.

The Boy, who for the last four years was making a name for himself on his own merits and effort, beyond the deed of killing the Dark Lord that was most certainly a fluke or work of others.

The Boy whom fate was generous enough to gift many friends and connections, powerful allies willing to aid him, even die for him.

The Boy who many predict will become a force to reckoned in the future, be it in politics or war.

The Boy who was at ground zero of that Bunker debacle and came out of it alive and with honors.

The Boy who most certainly will marry into the Ono Clan, further aligning them with the Rising Star of the Potter.

The Boy who right now was sleeping without a care in the world, completely vulnerable to her mercies.

She had to admit, for a gaijin he was very cute, with signs of eventual handsomeness already appearing. And if the pictures of his father (and the absolutely lurid rumors about his ancestors, John and Ian Potters most notable among them) were any indication, in four years he would become a most desirable of consorts.

Oh yes, he may be still young for her right now, but until he matures she will raise him, re-educate him, indoctrinate him, until he would be completely unable to live without her.

And it will be so easy, for all the boy's external confident facade, the vixen in her nine centuries of experience saw for what he truly was like inside.

An anxious child who sought validation and recognition from others like a parched man in the desert, a scared boy who feared disappointing others for a slightest mistake.

And most of all, he was a broken teenager who craved affection to mend his withered heart and soul.

The most malleable clay one could wish for.

Of course, the Ono would not let his kidnapping stand unpunished, but she was well prepared.

The recent string of secession of magical provinces from Tokyo, along with Bunker business ruffling many feathers, led to many people becoming more... open-minded in their fear of future and desperation, one result of which of course was her projecting right now, but more importantly it accelerated her plans in many other ways.

Such as taking over Tokyo Diet as its puppet master.

With the windfall of fortune that the recent events have brought her, making that a reality was now a matter of when, and unlike the foolish fossils of the Diet she had the concrete plan, the tight vision and the solid means to right the drifting ship.

Speaking of which, the No-Maj allies of the Ono, the shipgirls in particular, would not be the problem, for she plans to give the mundane government what it wants.

The way to integrate the Magical Japan to them without costing No-Maj lives, with her at the helm of course.

What of Kyoto, who position themselves on the same platform? She will make them irrelevant by 'outbidding' them with methods they refuse to consider, and bring back the wayward provinces back into the fold with promises and assurances that only a Youkai shadow minister could make, probably with some required backstabbing.

For at the end of the day, she truly doubts that the No-Maj government will care how much purging there will be, as long as it doesn't spill over to the 'real' people they care about and while she still 'answers' to them.

And this will leave the Mundane Government with a choice: side with her for the sake of millions, or throw away a chance of a relatively peaceful unification for the sake of one boy.

The choice was obvious, and so with the shipgirls leashed (and by extension the pet Abyssals, in worst case they will be put down) and with Kyoto rendered powerless, the Ono Clan and their few allies will stand alone to rescue the boy.

And they will fail.

She will gift the bitch Chiyo to her least disloyal sons, who in place of her dear late husband Kazuo will breed the Ono matriarch with Fukai scions.

She will personally behead that bastard Kensuke's wife and son in front of him, before making him join them, preferably with the same damned shapeshifting blade that took her husband's head.

His youngest children, Asuka and Rei, will be thoroughly re-educated to serve the Fukai, to make them hate anything Ono stood for in general and their father in particular.

She will kill Haru slowly as payback for protecting Sumiko, and speaking of the white-haired bastard there is a chance they might rope her in for the rescue attempt, so she will need to invent some novel form of torture just for her.

And the patriarch Naoki will be forced to bear witness to all of above, the desecration of his Clan, before getting his turn.

As for Natsumi...

She will have a special front-seat view to Akiko's spending time with Harry, gently teaching him all that is right, smoothly turning his loyalty from the Ono to her, making him fall in love with the superior Nine-Tail instead of mere Two.

And when finally, when the boy will become of age, the Ono brat will be made to watch a spectacle where he will willingly surrender himself to Akiko, her former love discarding her in most carnal fashion.

As she fantasized about the pain of her enemies and her own pleasure, she reached for the sleeping youth with her long-nailed hands.

But then, as if a bucket of ice-cold water was poured on her, her fantasies were replaced with primordial fear.

Spoiler: Fear**

Nails frozen inches from the boys head, her body frozen in terror, she looked with her barely moving eyes at the corner of the room.

There stood an indistinct tall figure, who was more of a black mass of shadowy smoke than something solid, their very presence threatening to consume their surroundings.

What was it? A Guard that was capable of fear magic? Some kind of a creature bound to the house as security? Or a bigger fish that also wanted Harry as a prey?

She wasn't willing to stick any longer to find out, so she forcibly cut off the projection, her mind instantly back in her real body.

But any kind of relief died before it even had a chance to form, for in the corner of the ritual chamber, stood the same shadowy being.

With an incredible amount of will, she snapped out of terror-induced stupor and turned around for the exit, to call for help.

Only to stop cold as the being stood right in front of her, as if it was always there from the beginning.

Now that it was close, her fear-paralyzed mind noted that it was a female kitsune, with nine tails just like her.

Wait, the being only had two.

Or was it eight?

Or even Ten, as foolish as it sounded?

But the Kitsune's mind did not spare any more attention to the shifting number of tails, for it had more urgent things to do.

Such as being petrified by those piercing, cold and yet burning eyes, so full of all-consuming hatred that looked both at her with sheer disgust and through her as if she wasn't there.

And yet, she felt that those eyes were familiar.

It was a moment too late when Akiko finally noticed that the oppressive being grabbed her by the face with a claw-like hand.

The sentries who stood guard outside the ritual chamber heard a short soul-crushing scream before it was abruptly cut off by an explosion.

When they barged in, every surface of the chamber was covered in dripping blood.

Back in Harry's room, the shadowy being was still there as if it never chased after the Kitsune, and it looked down at the still sleeping boy.

Spoiler: Love**

In a heartbeat, the malice faded away, replaced by longing. The figure's chaotic form stabilized, if still wreathed in shadows.

And just like the intruding Kitsune before, she too reached out for the boy.

Right as she was about to reach him, she stopped and clenched her fist in inner struggle, shaking her head in self-derision.

But just as she started to withdraw her hand, Harry grasped it.

Surprised, the being nearly destabilized out of shock, staring at the still sleeping Harry, her body shaking with emotion.

And out of the void where her eyes were supposed to be, tears streaked over her cheeks.

Gently, she pried her hand from the boy's grip, who for a moment seemed distraught, before calming down.

Spending a few more moments watching over him, the being then vanished in an instant, as if she was never there.

----

* Azur Lane Akagi in her Plum and Snow costume if the image doesn't work. Obviously without any Naval bits.

** If Youtube takes them down, the tracks are from F.E.A.R.: Intro (the one that is 2 minutes long) and Alma.










Original Version of Chapter

Spoiler

Inspired by the Dream sequence in the last main story snippet along with recent jaunt with a certain game, here is snippet in which a somewhat unorthodox nature of the reincarnation link between Tamamo-no-Mae and Natsumi resulted in some unorthodox side-effects. Obviously non-canon.

----

Summer 2014

Yokosuka Naval Base, Nagato Residence

It was well past midnight, with the family of a battleship-turned-woman, a child-like incarnation of drowned children, a dragon goddess in training, two sentient swords and a fourteen-year old mortal wizard were all in deep slumber.

An unnatural slumber forced by complex magic.

And in the room where Harry slept, a tall feminine figure with fox ears and nine fox tails appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
Spoiler: Kyuubi*

If one knowledgeable in youkai politics were to look at her, they would recognize the Nine-Tailed Kitsune as a Head of a Clan who were staunch enemies of the Ono Family.

Those knowledgeable in spiritual magic would also note that it was not her true self that was present in the room, but her spiritual projection, her true body sitting in a meditating pose in the ritual chamber, deep within her Clan compound in the mountains on the other side of Japan.

Regardless, one way or another she was here, trespassing on the Naval Base, and with her own unparalleled mastery of projection arts, stealth techniques and many favors spent to create this chance, she was poised to break the Ono's recent rise of fortunes.

And what better way to hurt her enemies, than by stealing what they hold dear and making it truly hers?

Harry Potter, the so called Boy-Who-Lived.

The Boy, who for the last four years was making a name for himself on his own merits and effort, beyond the deed of killing the Dark Lord that was most certainly a fluke or work of others.

The Boy whom fate was generous enough to gift many friends and connections, powerful allies willing to aid him, even die for him.

The Boy who many predict will become a force to reckoned in the future, be it in politics or war.

The Boy who most certainly will marry into the Ono Clan, further aligning them with the Rising Star of the Potter.

The Boy who right now was sleeping without a care in the world, completely vulnerable to her mercies.

She had to admit, for a gaijin he was very cute, with signs of eventual handsomeness already appearing. And if the pictures of his father and ancestors (and the absolutely lurid rumors about Ian Potter) were any indication, in four years he would become a most desirable of consorts.

Oh yes, he may be still young for her right now, but until he matures she will raise him, re-educate him, indoctrinate him, until he would be completely unable to live without her.

And during that time, the Onos would no doubt try to rescue the boy, their desperation blinding them to obvious threats for which they will pay dearly, chained in dungeon to be humiliated.

And when finally, when the boy will become of age, she will drag them out to watch a spectacle where he will willingly surrender himself to her, with that despairing child getting the front seat as her former love discarded her in most carnal fashion.

As she fantasized about the pain of her enemies and her own pleasure, she reached for the sleeping youth with her long-nailed hands.

But then, as if a bucket of ice-cold water was poured on her, her fantasies were replaced with primordial fear.
Spoiler: Fear**

Nails frozen inches from the boys head, her body frozen in terror, she looked with her barely moving eyes at the corner of the room.

There stood an indistinct tall figure, who was more of a black mass of shadowy smoke than something solid, their very presence threatening to consume their surroundings.

What was it? A Guard that was capable of fear magic? Some kind of creature bound to the house as security? Or bigger fish that also wanted Harry as a prey?

She wasn't willing to stick any longer to find out, so she forcibly cut off the projection, her mind instantly back in her real body.

But any kind of relief died before it even had a chance to form, for in the corner of the ritual chamber, stood the same shadowy being.

With an incredible amount of will, she snapped out of terror-induced stupor and turned around for the exit, to call for help.

Only to stop cold as the being stood right in front of her, as if it was always there from the beginning.

Now that it was close, her fear-paralyzed mind noted that it was a female kitsune, with nine tails just like her.

Wait, the being only had two.

Or was it eight?

Or even Ten, as foolish as it sounded?

But the Kitsune's mind did not spare any more attention to the shifting number of tails, for it had more urgent things to do.

Such as being petrified by those piercing, cold and yet burning eyes, so full of all-consuming hatred that both looked at her with sheer disgust and through her as if she wasn't there.

It was a moment too late when she finally noticed that the oppressive being placed its hand on her shoulder.

The sentries who stood guard outside the ritual chamber heard a short soul-crushing scream before it was abruptly cut off by an explosion.

When they barged in, every surface of the chamber was covered in dripping blood.

Back in Harry's room, the shadowy being was still there as if it never chased after the Kitsune, and it looked down at the still sleeping boy.
Spoiler: Love**

In a heartbeat, the malice faded away, replaced by longing. The figure's chaotic form stabilized, if still wreathed in shadows.

And just like the intruding Kitsune before, she too reached out for the boy.

But just right as she was about to reach him, she clenched her fist in inner struggle before withdrawing it, shaking her head at herself.

He is not him, nor he is yours.

Spending a few more moments watching over him, the being then vanished in an instant, as if it was never there.

----

* Azur Lane Akagi in her Plum and Snow costume if the image doesn't work. Obviously without any Naval bits.

** If Youtube takes them down, the tracks are from F.E.A.R.: Intro (the one that is 2 minutes long) and Alma.

 

[darthcourt10]

Dances in Shadows

So...I'm not really happy with this one, But it's not getting any better just sitting on my hard drive.

------------------------------------------
Dungeons and Dragons and Shipgirls
------------------------------------------
Part 4. Grime and PUNishment
------------------------------------------


"As you descend beneath the graveyard a slight whiff of something off-putting hits your nose. Opening the door at the end of the tunnel you come across a small room. Broken candelabras litter the remains of tattered and worm eaten red carpet. In the center of the the room rests an open wooden casket."

Picking up her dice Naka looks down at the miniature room Ooyodo's crewmen have drawn.

"I'm going to search the casket"

"Alright go ahead and roll for me....Searching the casket you find that it may have at one point been adorned with metal trim, before someone crudely pried it off."


Further down the table Nagato offered Boo a sunflower seed while one of her crewmen organized what was most definitely NOT an overboard collection of crochet hamster costumes.

Between her and Naka sat Tenryuu. Small wisps of smoke rose from the edges of her smirking lips. A glass of fire whiskey in her hand as she looked over the map on the table.

At the far end of the table slouched Junyou a bottle of Daiginjo on the floor next to her.

It had been a couple weeks since their last session, schedules and events preventing them from getting together sooner.

-----------------------------------------------------

"As you enter the room the smell of waste is overpowering, From across the room a vile mass of bubbling feces and gurgling fluids rises up out of a hole in the ground. With a loud sucking noise the disgusting mass begins to slowly make its way towards you. Roll for initiative."

Down on the table one of the Nagato's fairies walked onto the map with his head hung low, a pair of index cards hanging from his neck bearing coiled drawings of poop. Across the map his stand in for the session snickered under his hood.

"Harriet casts magic missile on this CRAPPY looking monster."

"Kana will take a five foot step to her right and fire off a crossbow bolt from a less SHITTY position."

"Brunhilde will ready a healing spell and hold action until someone needs it. Wouldn't want the party to WIPE after all. "

"Yeah that would fucking STINK."

Down on the table the crewman sighed as he continued to regret his past actions.


-------------------------------------------------------------


"From inside the coffin rises a skeleton, its pristine white bones adorned in the tattered remains of a white dress."

"I seduce her!"


Eye narrowing as she looked over her glasses Ooyodo stares daggers in Tenryuu's direction.

"You...SEDUCE...the undead skeleton?"

"Yeah. YOUR the one who told me not to solve every problem with violence. Besides, you described her as clean and pristine so Throm can totally BONE her."


As Ooyodo pinched her nose with a sigh she was caught off guard by someone absentmindedly joined in.

"It could work. Its probably the most action shes seen sense that time she got NAILED in her coffin."

The words she had spoken finally registering in her mind, Nagato's back stiffened before slumping in defeat.

"....God dammit Lilly"








---------------------------------
Elsewhere
---------------------------------


"Before you stand a six foot tall misshapen humanoid. Its doughy skin appears to be made entirely out of pastry. A few reddish smears marring its well baked crust. As the smells of tomatoes and cheese hit your nose it raises its fists with a roar and begins lumbering towards you."

Across from Niiyodo the duckies gave an involuntarily gulp, their shaking hands reaching for their dice.

 

[darthcourt10]

Yellowhammer

Pack Dynamics VII

Taura Plum Blossom Park, Yokosuka
Spoiler: Under The Blossoms

Moriko snuggled Hachiko closer to her and sighed happily at the sight of the waving cherry blossoms. Her scarred and callused fingers interlaced with his equally work-hardened fingers and she gave an inadvertent low growl of happiness.

"Hachiko-chan?" She whispered quietly.

"What is it, Moriko-chan?" he murmured back.

She took a deep breath. "I..." Her cheeks heated as she spoke hesitantly, "I've never even kissed a boy before. Ever."

She then laughed quietly, "Look at me, all rough and tumble and a fighter and having to be the big sister for my pack and I'm terrified to admit it. What we have, it's wonderful and scary, but I...want it. Want you."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly and gently, "If it helps..." His voice hushed. "I never kissed a girl either. I was always the last one picked for sports at school, the girly one, and I..."

His voice broke slightly and she felt him tense as he glanced over to where Aki was working on a puzzle box that Suzume had brought along to exercise her mind. He whispered with pain in his voice, "Mother and Father's marriage was not a happy one. Aki doesn't know, he was thankfully too young, but Father... had other women. That... hurt Mother...."

Her arms flexed slightly to protect him, to show that she was there for him. Tears trickled down his cheeks. "I promised myself that I wouldn't be like Father. That I would never hurt a girl that way. But in school, I was... afraid that I would make mistakes and go down the same path. So I... didn't."

She cupped his cheek with her free hand and turned his head to look into her vulnerable eyes. As she was swallowed by the wonderful warm blue depths of his gaze, her hand removed his glasses and she leaned in.

She whispered as their foreheads touched, staring into his eyes. "I didn't either. I never found the person I could reveal myself to. The person who I could trust myself to before now."

He whispered back as their fingers interlaced and the sea breeze ruffled their hair. "And I never found someone who I could devote myself to body, heart, and soul. Before now."

In the distance, Uzume smiled happily at the threads linking two hearts beating as one and adjusted her camera. Sachiko readied her phone. Kiho leaned back and glanced over at the young folks and recorded the moment with her Omnioculars.

A sudden gust blew the first falling sakura petals like pink snow from the trees. Aki's face lit up in an ear to ear smile as his efforts caused the lid of the puzzle box to pop off at last. Suzume beamed at the young boy's triumph and joy.

Moriko and Hachiko's lips touched in an endless instant of bliss as the cherry blossom petals fell gently around them and the sun illuminated them as a ray broke through the clouds.

 

[darthcourt10]

Yellowhammer

Dove at a Dinner Party: Part The Fourth

A Comedy of Ill-Manners, Shocking French 'Customs', and a Fire in the Rubbish Skip

Passel House

Saturday, May 13th, 1899

Lyra Potter walked into the library and took a seat on a sofa next to a window after grabbing a book at random from the shelves. Clearly some serious thinking needed to be done regarding the mystery spirit. Reading would keep her from being disturbed while she worked on this puzzle presented to herself.

How do I act to save that poor spirit before it is too late?

She smiled at the female House-elf who popped into appearance with the requested cup of hot green tea. "Thank you kindly, and can you please notify me once my husband is free from his social obligations so that I may join him?"

"Of courses!" With that the elf vanished and Lyra hummed as she absently turned pages to keep her hands busy between sipping her tea as she thought about the mystery tsukumogami.

Hm, well if all else failed, she could perhaps have Ian work his bedroom magic on her. Any girl who would be suicidal after a night with him was a lost cause anyway.

A firm footstep sounded at the door and her eyes raised to see the blonde tsukumogami in the library door.

Well well, opportunity knocks. And here I thought I would have to take the indirect approach. Welcome to my parlor, said the Lyra to the fly.

---------------------------------

Shortly before:

Colombe ignored the shocked disapproval from the ghost in her room as she finished oiling and honing herself after her little bout of private fencing practice in the Orangery. If the spirit did not like her self-maintenance, she could go play with herself until she removed the poker jammed up her ass.
Spoiler: Memories of a Masamune

Briefly her eyes misted up at the memory of her saying those words to a beautiful oriental woman her apparent age dressed in a white robe with a red skirt as blue-green eyes opened wide in her shocked face. Her lips curled in a smug smile at the memory of her verbal barb hitting home as Meekoh Punchable Face spluttered in shock and disbelief before drawing herself to demand satisfaction as her face twisted in incandescent rage.

Anger is a strong servant but a poor master. She was good, even very good, but no warrior could fight herself and her foe at the same time. Too much time in the salle d'armes, not enough time in the field getting into real fights.

She reflexively squashed the little spike of guilt and shame caused by her knowledge that she had dishonored her Papa's teachings of nobility with her words to provoke that fight.

Besides, that sword spirit had it coming, arrogant little stuck-up prissy bitch that she was with that self-righteous serene smirk, she told herself once again.

She shook her head as her eyes watered.

She supposed that in an ideal world she would have not provoked that fight. Been wiser. Said different words that would have let her find her father. Let her get justice for her mother's death and being abandoned as unwanted by her true father. Been able to defeat that old monk at the temple in Japan who had had her swear never to return and find her father until the children of the Abyss joined hands with humans.

Not failed. Not disappointed Papa with one more of her many many failures. Not...allowed Hippolyte to do what he did.

With an effort of will, she somehow jerked her thoughts out of the spiral that they were in. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with a scowl as she sheathed herself with a convulsive jerk of her wrist. Sitting here and brooding would accomplish nothing productive. Perhaps there was some atlas of Africa or scrap of information in the library that she could find to help cleanse her stained and ruined honor in the blood of those who had corrupted it.

Unseen by her, as she turned to go, the dove engraving on her true body that was the inheritance from her father Norimune began to glow with a gentle white light where it lay on her bed.

----------------------------------
Spoiler: Lyra and Colombe

Colombe froze in the door of the library.

Sitting in a velvet-upholstered sofa facing her was a slender witch with a peaches and cream complexion. Her ruby-red dress flashed in the sunlight from the nearby window and her wavy midnight-black hair absorbed it. As she closed the book that she had been reading, she sat upright like a queen on her throne. One aristocratic eyebrow rose in unspoken invitation over a green eye that sparkled with mischief. Her oval face lit up in a warm smile as she spoke in a husky soprano. "Why hello there, Miss."

Colombe automatically curtsied in introduction as her brain whirled. Silently she cursed her hormones, because she most definitely had a 'type' for the girls who attracted her the most.

Studious smart brunettes.

Such as the young lady who she had just caught reading the tenth book (Concerning Happiness and Pleasure) of Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics in the original Greek.

"Enchanté, Miss." She responded absently while trying to cudgel her hormones into behaving. Four and a half decades of celibacy were taking their toll on... ye gods, had it been that long since she saved that huli jing fox-spirit scholar's daughter who was wrongly accused of stealing men's genitals with her magic.

Unconsciously her lips curled up in a fond, smug smile of the memory of Yüying and her fighting back to back against those Tiān Dì Huì enforcers in Kowloon as they battled to the ship that she had purchased passage on to get Yüying out of China.

She blinked and returned to the here and now from memories of a brighter past, before her failures manifested themselves. "Ah... I am Mademoiselle Colombe Du Chasteler, late of Belgium."

The woman's smile grew slightly crooked as mischief danced in her eyes. "A pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle du Chasteler, I am Mrs. Lyra Potter."

Colombe focused. She did not look like the Potters that she had known. "Ah, I must ask which branch?"

Lyra smiled and patted the sofa next to her. "The English Potters; I married in from the Blacks. My husband Ian is detained with the boys dealing with head-of-family business. Correct me if I am wrong, but the Du Chasteler family is...?"

Colombe took the invitation to sit. "A French Malfoy collateral. Papa was a Squib whose family arranged him to take the name of the family descended from the Dukes of Lorriane."

Lyra's smile widened and her eyes sparkled with unfeigned interest. "Fascinating. And good for them, since I can see that he was a man of excellent noble character to have a daughter such as you. You certainly inherited the Malfoy hair of gold."

Colombe flinched minutely and automatically at the memory of her ancestry.

Of how she had disappointed Papa.

She did not notice the equally minute narrowing of Lyra's eyes. "So, Mademoiselle du Chasteler, I would love to hear about your Papa."

Colombe absently responded, "Please, Call me Colombe. All this Miss this and Mister that verbal jousting gets tedious and is frankly stupid."

A blonde ghost covered her mouth in shock at the statement as she listened to the ladies.

Lyra's eyes twinkled, "I must agree now that you argued so persuasively Colombe. I am Lyra to my friends and intimates."

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Eventually, the newcomers calmed down enough once they saw that Harry was both alright and in good health. Granted, Harry had a moment of amusement when, after he stated yet again that he did not go looking for trouble, Siusan muttered a bit, "No, Child. But the Potter blood calls out to it like a fox hunting an injured swan, it does."

Thankfully, that had gotten a good laugh from everyone there and actually improved the mood. Which is what found Harry currently laying back with Natsumi cuddling close to him. Something that was equal parts a fact that he enjoyed and was also distracting. The second bit having caused Harry to once more internally curse puberty as he was not the only one who had grown up a bit more in the months since Christmas vacation.

In order to distract himself from such thoughts, despite how they kept surfacing, Harry had gotten a laptop out. To combat the anti-lightning wards around the castle that would have drained the battery though, a cord ran from said laptop and plugged into a smaller cord that snaked down Hoppou's arm from inside her dress.

He had given her an extremely odd look when she had proudly declared that she now knew why Abyssals had belly buttons.

Just shaking off that thought, because it was not one he really wanted to consider the specifics of, Harry instead focused on what was currently on his laptop. Shifting a bit beside him, Natsumi placed her head on his shoulder with a small smile, "Moderating the SGO forums?"

Softly snorting, the thirteen year old wizard shook his head, "Hai, I am. In fact, I'm banning another one of Copper's sockpuppets. Honestly, the guy just does not give up."

From where she laid, Natsumi cocked her head and blinked, "Uh, Laurion? What? How does that mean that it is Copper?"

About to answer, Harry was interrupted as Sirius spoke up, "Uh, Copper? Sockpuppet? I mean, there was that time that a drunk Remus turned some of our socks into sockpuppets like Lily suggested, but... I think you mean something else?"

Turning to him, the teenaged wizard nodded, "Yeah, long story short? I am a Moderator on an online forum called 'Shipgirls Online..." Pausing, Harry frowned, "Um, you know what forums and moderators are, right?"

Lightly laughing, Sirius grinned, "Actually, I do. It was something that I talked with one of the guards back at Redstone about." He then frowned, "Just... confused about what you are talking about..."

With a hum, Harry frowned before making a motion with his finger, "Well, as a Moderator, one of my duties is to, well, Moderate. If someone is mucking up the forum with bad behavior and such like trolling too hard, my job is to infract them. And if they're too bad, either ban them temporarily or permanently. Some people don't like that and decide to get around it with sockpuppets. We usually catch them because they act the same way that they did before getting banned, so we ban them again. Sockpuppeting is usually a permabanable offence anyways."

Eyebrow raised, Nagato looked at him with a bemused look, "Considering Aso-San has continuously made sockpuppets, but that the newest one is left alone..."

Hoppou raised her finger at that, "But she's changed and no longer posts like she did."

Patting her on the head, Harry grinned, "Hoppou's right. If they do change their ways? Well... Mission Bloody Accomplished as far as us Moderators are concerned."

Lips twitching, the lone animagus of the group shook his head before frowning as he remembered how the conversation started, "Okay, makes sense. But... what is this thing about someone named Copper?"

At this, Harry actually sighed and shook his head, "He is... someone infamous. Because we've banned him so many times. Not just because of his general bad behavior, but because he continuously makes sockpuppets. And all of them have to do with the metal copper in some way. Every. Single. One."

That got a slow, disbelieving blink from Sirius as well as flat toned word, "What."

Only pinching his nose, Harry softly snorted before waving one hand in the air, "I know, trust me, I know. He is one of the bigger annoyances with the forums because he keeps going for more and more obscure references to Copper. I mean, at first it was amusing when he started using other languages and such. Somewhat easy, especially with how many shipgirls are from different countries. I mean, the Spanish shipgirls were amused when they caught him using the account name of Kobrea, because that was Basque for Copper. Or the American shipgirls when he used a Navajo word for the metal. But it has become worse and worse as time has gone on and this has been going on for about five years now."

Eyebrow slowly raising, his Godfather glanced at the others there who were there, "I see..."

Somewhat bemused, Haruka tilted her head a bit, "How bad are we talking about, Harry? If I may ask?"

With a shrug, Harry rolled his eyes, "Pretty bad. Banned him about two months back because a South African sailor whose been on the forums recognized a word he used that was from Xhosa as being their word for copper. Most of us were taking bets on what language he would use next. Turns out, he used a place."

Nagato blinked and turned to him, "Laurion is a place?"

Face in his hands, Harry nodded some, "As a matter of fact, it is. It was the female Greek Shipgirl Admiral, Aetós, who sent a PM to us Mods about it. Just looked it up to confirm and the IP matches Copper's, though he's routed it at least twice. But Laurion is a place in Greece that was used for copper mining."

Mouth working, the Battleship eventually settled for a sigh and shaking her head. Haru, meanwhile, pinched her nose, "I... am at a loss for words at this. I just have to question why someone would go through all this trouble."

Throwing his hands into the air, Harry snorted, "I do not know. He is like a bloody cheap, cruddy knock off version of the Riddler from Batman. How and why he continuously comes up with these really odd references to copper, I do not know." A pout grew on his face, "It also means that I lost the bet that he would use Klingon."

At that, Hoshi coughed into her drink before giving him a look, "Klingon, Harry-San? Really?"

Expression of one who is nearly done, Harry rolled his eyes, "He already used fictional languages more than once. No, do not ask about why that was, because I don't know. He is really dedicated to it though."

Deciding that trying to probe the mind of someone like that was not the best idea, not least because he was utterly lost as to where to begin, Sirius cleared his throat some, "Quite... well, leaving that aside, do you have any clue what you are doing after this?"

Harry frowned at that before turning to his adoptive mother, "Mum?"

The shipgirl jerked a bit as she was brought out of her thoughts about the oddities of some people before shaking her head, "Sorry about that, Harry." Getting a nod, Nagato gave a small smile, "I've spoken with Dumbledore and... there's no issue with you coming home early and to have your Easter holidays extended. From what he tells me, you're actually ahead in your classes at this point. And also that no one would blame you if you were to head home early due to what happened." While her tone was mild and dry, there was anger there, "After all, anyone would after being attacked by a hundred Dementors."

Much to Harry's amusement, he could feel Natsumi's tails wag a bit at that as the Kitsune smiled, "That's actually great news!" Turning, her smile grew, "That means that we'll be able to go to Hanami together!"

Eyebrows furrowing, Sirius frowned, "Han-a-mi? What is that now?"

Lips curled into a smile, Harry turned to him, "Viewing cherry blossoms and sometimes plum blossoms on the trees. It is a popular past time back in Japan."

For several moments, the older wizard considered that before chuckling with a smile and nodding, "Okay, I think that I know what you mean. I read about it once in an old letter from your Great-grandmother to her brother from Japan. She mentioned going to look at the blossoms and stuff." He then gave a small shrug, "I... don't really see the point myself, but I've been in prison for years now."

Considering for a few moments, Nagato gave a nod, "Hanami is to observe the beauty of both nature and that the blossoms themselves serve as a metaphor of life. How it is both beautiful, and yet over far too soon." A small smile appeared on her face, "If you wish to go to one, just ask, that is all you need to do."

Scratching his chin, Sirius considered a few things before glancing to his wife who was being looked over by Madam Pomfrey, much to the Abyssal's amusement. As if knowing his eyes were on her, Isley turned and gave a small nod before turning back to the conversation with the school Medi-witch. Turning towards them, Sirius gave a small shrug, "I don't see a problem, and might take you up on that."

Hands behind his head, Harry grinned, "That sounds great, Sirius." A thoughtful look crossed his face, "Though... before we leave I need to check up on some things with the teachers and such. Just to make sure that I have everything ready and there's nothing that I need to do."

A mock disappointed look on his face, the Marauder shook his head and tutted, "What shame, you have become a bookworm just like your Mother." Fake shivering, Sirius groaned, "How awful... no slacking in your schoolwork to look cool or anything."

That only got him a laugh though from Harry. Feeling a poke in his side though, he blinked and turned to find Natsumi looking up at him. Now having his attention, she gave him a huff, "Not without me, Harry-Chan. I am not letting you out of my sight until at least we get home."

Moments later, a deep blush covered her face as Harry kissed her on the forehead, "Wouldn't dream of it, Natsumi-Chan."

Still blushing deeply, Natsumi turned her head away and mumbled something under her breath.

 

[darthcourt10]

K9Thefirst1

FINALLY! Sorry this took so long folks. Lots of details and my own procrastination and putting my efforts in favor of school kept this from being completed in time for Harry to move the story into the new year. Anyway...
Spoiler: At long last...




The Die Is Cast

5:34 PM, December 31st, 2013, The Great Meteor Seamount

The Princess Porta Abysseum Atlantia, holding court in her palace, was experiencing a new sensation, and she wasn't sure what to call it. Her gut felt tight, and cold, as if a rod had attached itself to her innards, and was coiling them up like a fork in pasta. Though she found it difficult to breath, Her Highness was able to keep it concealed behind her queenly mask. Holding court helped at least. She simply needed to go over the series of events that had led to the current moment.

Tantala recited to her a section of her Epic that she had finished revising. Rigar had shown her the latest designs for a new palace she wanted to build once the seamount became an island. And then, Canut was kneeling before her, with her latest report on training the fleet in hand-to-hand.

After the battleship demon's… lapse in good sense the previous year, Porta was quite certain that she would need to execute the foreign Abyssal. But the chastisement, and whatever it was that resulted in her losing her ability to actually fight, had done leagues of good as far as the Princess was concerned. Whereas before she was all but underfoot and in the way in trying to be helpful, Canut now focused her energies on where they were required – building an armory of melee weapons, and training the fleet in their use.

"We are pleased to hear of such progress Canut," the princess said, "We trust that in time of conflict, they shall be able to carry Us to victory?"

"Verily, your Highness. While those under my tutelage may not be masters, they can at least swing without harming themselves or their sisters in arms, and that alone will be to their advantage should they find themselves too close to the enemy to fight with their guns or torpedoes. Precisely as you requested. While they all have long to go, practice, and actual combat, will carry them further than more lessons alone. I thus call my first class complete, and I stand ready to begin the next batch of students. In fact, your Highness… If… If I may…"

Porta Atlantia gestured to her sworn subject, a small smile on her lips.

"Prey, speak."

"If it would please Your Highness, I would like to organize a tournament, to show the fleet I have yet to train how far they have come, and to inspire some interest in the training. I have already taken the liberty to plan the logistics, and the itinerary."

The battleship demon, clad in cloak and hood, approached the throne and held aloft a sheet of parchment to the Princess.

"Here, you Highness, I show what I had hoped to present. Just say the word, and in three days' time I and my finest students shall show the whole of your realm our might."

Porta took the parchment, and examined it thoroughly.

"A tourney, you say…"

Canut held her tongue, eyes averted, as her Sovereign read what she had organized.

According to the itinerary, there would be exhibition duals – not to the death, Porta was pleased to see. While on one hand she did not see Canut wasting her fleet in such a matter… Her 'over exuberance' in 'halping' the fleet in growing its already prodigious numbers the previous June had irrevocably damaged Porta's trust in the battleship demon's judgement. Thankfully, other than some minor cuts or bruises, none of her precious force of Melee-trained Abyssals would be incapacitated once the war started.

Along with the duals, there would be a chance for the uninitiated to get their first lessons from their fleet-sisters. This too pleased the Princess. After all, it meant the tournament doubled as a recruitment drive and as a chance to gage interest in the fleet for the extra training, especially as she would be quietly rousing more of her fleet from mothballs in preparation for the declaration of War.

Furthermore, she had already sent out feelers to the realm's small but earnest Civilian core. There was the MacHamish Clan, who promised to serve their finest brews for the audience. Porta looked at the proposed menu, and was disappointed that none of them were making Mead. Oh well, liquid bread and spoiled grape juice was fine.

And it wasn't like she didn't have her own stash anyway.

Furthermore, Woë and a few others focusing on Animal Husbandry were promising Antillian Mutton, Antillian Beef, and Antillian Boar. All promising to be excellent dishes. The Princess took a mental note to quietly record as much of the meal as her Imps could. The humans would no doubt have someone curious about the culinary culture she was already developing.

There was just one item that… Didn't feel right, and on reflection the Princess was certain that it was the source of her unease.

"You are to be commended Canut. These plans bring a smile to Our face. You were right to envision a tournament, and you were right to consult with Us. We anticipate a spirited series of games, and a merry display of sportsmanship.

"However… We are curious about this item on your agenda… Could you care to elaborate what you mean by a, quote, 'Match of Masters?'"

Canut looked up at her sovereign.

"You Highness has accepted my fealty, and put me to work as your Mistress-At-Arms. Your faith in my combat prowess has granted me this position, and I am grateful. But most all of my students daily talk almost constantly of what your champion, the Ocean Liner Demon, can do with arms in hand. And it is a topic that has entered my mind as well as of late. So I felt that a demonstration in arms between the two of us would-"

Ah yes. That was what made the Princess so uneasy. Canut was attempting to commit Suicide by Ocean Liner Demon.

"Enough."

As Canut spoke, faint murmurs grew into excited whispers among the younger members of the audience. Years of rumors and talk, a match the likes of which none of the realm had ever seen before. It would be a dream to see such larger than life figures duke it out. And unnoticed by them, the older members of the fleet, who had served their Princess since before the war began, all looked at Canut with horror, or bowed their heads as if in prayer for one who was about to die. And at the raised hand and declaration of the Princess, all talk ceased.

Porta, one hand in the air, the other rubbing her temple, looked at Canut with naked concern as she lowered her hand.

"Canut…? Are… Why do you wish to commit suicide?"

Clearly, the question was the furthest from the Battleship Demon's mind, going by the absolute confusion on her face.

"…Princess?"

"Canut, We know that no longer being able to take up your axe struck you to the soul, but We do not wish you to die so soon after you have found your place among my fleet! Look around! Do you think the friendships you have made among Our subjects are unworthy? Would you cast aside the comradery of Our Daughter, who thinks so highly of you, as if it were so much rubbish?"

Canut looked to the Princess in confusion, heedless to the growing unease of the rest of Porta's court.

"Your Highness? I do not understand, I mean nothing more than a light spar, to take the measure of a fellow warrior."

Porta's face pinched, as though exposed to the thoughts of a slow child. And her hand was soon firmly pressed to the regal brow, and pulled down to her slender chin.

"Canut… Ocean Liner Demon… Is no warrior. While she may be under my Thrall, that does not guarantee that she will not take advantage of the situation if given leave to exact violent on a warship."

"Situation?" Canut scoffed, "Princess, you jest. You yourself named her your Champion, that alone says that she is a warrior, and an honorable one at that, otherwise how could she be worthy of being your Champion! No, your Highness, I do not believe that any Thrall could ever hold confidence such as the Liner Demon holds… With you…?"

As the battleship demon spoke, the Throne Room was slowly filled with a sense of preternatural dread. The light dimmed, and all around looked about as Terror that came not from their hearts took hold of their bodies. The only ones spared were the Princess, who leaned back on the throne, palm firmly against her face, Lady Angband, you looked around in confusion at everyone around her, and Canut, who felt as though the fangs of Fenrir himself were crushing down around her chest, and the eyes of Hel boring into her soul from behind, ready to drag her to Helheim. It was a sensation she had only felt on a few occasions, and even then, only as a bystander.

It was as if the War Demon Skadi had risen from her watery grave, and was hunting for Canut's very soul.

With unnatural fog puffing from her mouth in the sudden chill, Canut turned around, to find Liner Demon at the entrance of the room, eyes glowing Hellfire Red from inside her helm. The Demon took a step, and it echoed across the chamber. Even though there was an aisle plenty wide for her to walk down, the Abyssals of the fleet still backed away on reflex as the Demon passed. For years, she had been a constant presence in the Fleet, but save for those who had been in service since she joined in the 1980s, none, had ever, felt such sensations as what was being broadcasted from the beast in their midst.

One Abyssal, a Tsu-Class cruiser new to the fleet, one of the rare few of the mercenaries Canut had gathered that was permitted to join based on her war record, bowed as if in worship as the monster in armor walked past in apathy.

"War Demon! By the Black Abyss!" she muttered, as if traumatized by some past encounter, and was watching it play out anew.

Canut, knowing now that she had made a grave error, but unsure as to its character, looked on as the other Demon approached, unmoving from her kneel. Finally, Ocean Liner Demon stopped just behind and to the left of Canut, and knelt down, placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, and spoke.

"'Honorable Warrior' huh? Never. Ever. In my lives. Have I been so… Insulted."

Canut found herself trying to lean away on instinct, but the other Demon's grip turned painful and held the Battleship Demon in place as the Second of the Fleet held up the Warhammer Canut had gifted her earlier in the year. She held the head close to Canut, so that she had an unobstructed view of the lightning bolts of Zeus, the Olympian god.

"Tell me. Was it not enough, for you to rub my face in the weakness, the failure, the absolute Hell that was my first life? To not only give me a gift I have no need or desire for, but to remind me of what should be forgotten? So you double that with the salt of lumping me in with your kind?

"Your kind, who from the days when man sailed in hollowed logs with paddles, hunted my race. For sport. For glory. For naked greed. You, who could not satiate your bloodlust by killing your own kind, so you raped and plundered the fat, slow merchantmen? Torpedoed neutral craft with innocent women and children inside. Sent nations to economic ruin by the very act of being built! What sort of sociopathic animal calls that honor?"

Liner Demon leaned into Canut, thoroughly riveted by naked terror, guilt, and the primal instinct of being in the presence of something Abominable, that was also something she somehow had a hand in creating. Canut stared into the twin glowing orbs recessed in the blackness of the helm's eye slits. And when the Demon spoke, Canut could not help but notice how those eyes moved horizontally, as if the head they were attached to was not built in any form that was… Natural.

"But I accept your challenge." The Demon said, suddenly jovial, "I will gladly murder y-"

"Enough!"

At once the Demon was silenced, and the heavy sense of fear and dread was wiped away from the room and its occupants by a faint red pulse of Power. Attention gravitated to the Princess, who had risen from her throne, and was glaring down at the Demon with clear fury on her face. She sharply pointed to her right and snapped her fingers, the sound reverberating through the throne room as definitively as Ocean Liner Demon's footsteps minutes before.

Without another word, Ocean Liner Demon rose, and smartly walked to her designated place, quiet, obedient, and contrite.

Like a loyal dog.

The Princess held her glare at the Demon for a few moments more. Satisfied that Liner Demon wasn't going to act out of turn again, Porta Atlantia walked down the stairs and knelt beside the visibly shaken form of Canut. The Princess laid her hands on the battleship demon's form with the gentleness of a mother, concerned for the wellbeing of her child.

"Are you all right Canut?"

Canut, eyes wide and staring into the middle distance, did not respond at first, but finally took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Canut, a tournament is a wonderful idea, and one that We endorse whole-heartedly… Provided that you do not fight Ocean Liner Demon. Understood?"

Canut, having regained her senses, nodded in earnest agreement.

"Aye, your Highness. If I may, I would like to make amends for anyth-."

"Don't you dare."
------

Territory of Armored Carrier Princess Wobbly, Northeast of the Grand Meteor Seamount…

Mordorim was a most unusual abyssal. She was a relic. No doubt the last of her kind in the whole world – the last of a class of Abyssal Carrier that was at the very edge of obsolescence even as the war began, a MO-Class Carrier. Unlike their successors the Wo-Class, whose hangars were curved, organic, and far more capable of tending to craft larger and heavier than what she ever could, Mordorim's hanger was a large box, consisting of six slabs of what could be charitably called armor riveted together, and whereas the landing facilities of the WO took the form of a pair of fleshy tentacles, for the MO-Class it was a set of four girder cranes, that often got in each other's way during operations. They did their job, no doubt, but only in the context of the era she was birthed in.

Mordorim didn't really expect to be able to genuinely entangle her way into any fleet like the Princess commanded when she was given this assignment a decade ago. If she were honest, she suspected Her Highness was only sending her off to die because her Post-Azores circumstances meant that she couldn't support near as many carriers as she had, Her Highness was just being polite about it, allowing her end to have some dignity to it. She was under no illusions that her remaining sisters weren't likely scrapped soon after the relocation.

"LOOKY LOOKY MORDY! A pod of whales! …Let's kill 'em!"

Then she met this dumb bitch.

"Wow! Lookit all the blood! Eh-hee-hee!"

Somehow, this Armored Carrier Princess managed to spend avgas and munitions like water, and not get killed. Mordorim wasn't sure what agitated her more about this Petty Princess – her childish approach to everything, Admiral Murphy's obvious favoritism for her… Or the fact that her pale naked ass was on full display like a jackass 24/7/365. Regardless, when the order finally arrived, ridding the world of this waste of resources would be oh so very satisfying…
------

10:24 PM, December 31st, 2013, Great Meteor seamount

Porta sat on her favorite sofa, staring into the abyss outside her widow. After she had narrowly prevented Liner Demon from redecorating the throne room, the atmosphere was decidedly different, and while efforts were made to recover from the scene, there was still a tenseness. Tantala recited another passage from her Epic that she had just finished revising, and Rigar showed off some of her latest concepts for a new Palace. Where she once again asked permission to demolish the current palace in order to make the designs a reality. Despite the fact that she had already done so earlier.

That in turn got Chatter – the Chi-class that possessed a happy talent for artwork, and had even made the exceptional mural over the entrance to the throne room – all sorts of salty. Claiming that Rigar was wanting to destroy Chatter's first Masterpiece, that same mural. That resulted in Rigar re-iterating her earlier remark of 'the world would lose nothing of value' with the destruction of the current palace. And Yolasu – the submarine who discovered her talent in making fine sculptures from rock – naturally enough could not stop herself from weighing in despite not having a stake in the matter. And in fact, would have benefited more from keeping silent rather than lowering herself to such a petty argument.

What followed was yet another edition of the debate of what form of visual art was supreme – Paintings and the sort, which enriched the lives of all by concentrating key aspects of reality in a permanent image, architecture, which married both form and function in a grand work that could also be used, or sculpture which did everything a painting could do, just in three-dimensions, and could be taken in all at once, rather than one aspect at a time like with a building. Porta was thankful for the distraction – she found the by now almost scripted conversation to be incredibly amusing. And also encouraging, choosing to take it as a sign of a slowly evolving aspect of culture, for there to be intellectual debate – amateur and childish though it was.

Tantala wisely stayed out of it, choosing instead to jot down notes with a repressed smile on her face. Porta looked forward to seeing thinly-veiled cameos of the trio serving as comic relief in future editions of her Epic.

The Princess didn't make comment one-way or the other – but given how her subtle efforts at elevating the mount into an island were already starting to cause structural damage to the building, Porta had no illusions that reconstructions would not be needed. And when the time came, she would spare no expense in preserving and transporting Chatter's mural to the new palace, it was too culturally significant in the history of both her small nation, and the cultural identity she was nurturing. But when the trio started to travel from artistic differences to personal attacks, Porta stepped in to quiet them down. It was getting late anyway. Time for everyone to get some rest. After all, while her subjects didn't know it, come morning the fleets around them would be at war with each other, and by next week they would be entering the fray to 'liberate' them from their anarchy.

Finally, her rounds complete, Liner Demon entered the apartments. Porta looked to her second, and was reminded of the Demon's… Episode earlier. Fortunately, she was there to pull on the leash. Usually her well-known disdain for warships was a boon, allowing her to better balance the Machiavellian ideal of being both Loved and Feared, but that didn't mean she would tolerate her Second being openly belligerent. Regardless of reason.

"You called for me, Princess."
------

Somewhere in the Central Atlantic, near the Grand Meteor Seamount

Yorei smiled with satisfaction as she lined up her next shot. While the others took their orders literally, the Yo-Class submarine chose a more… Creative interpretation. They were meant to ultimately sow distrust and confusion among the local powers surrounding the Grand Meteor Seamount, right? Now, Yorei could have weaseled her way into one of the fleets… But she found sniping them during their attacks on Human Convoys to be much more satisfying.

With a hiss of compressed air another fish was let loose. Her imp in charge of working out the targeting solutions eyed the stop watch, its ticks echoing throughout her hull.

bmpf…

"Nazg, nazg nazg."

'Impact, enemy Wo-Class carrier crippled, heavy flooding.'

Yorei smiled, and celebrated with a fist pump… And a vocal 'yes!'. She had gotten careless. But she had similarly lapsed many times before and nothing came of it.

But she had still been careless.

After Action Report: USS England, Action of December 31st, 2013, Convoy EB-993 [Excerpt].

At 2000, passive sonar reported a faint ping from a submarine off the four o'clock of the convoy and reported to flagship. Initially dismissed, due to the origins being severely isolated from the main body of the enemy attack force, the CO granted England leave to investigate after destroyer pressed the issue. At 2031, passive sonar picked up cavitation consistent with an early-war Yo-Class submarine that initiated an emergency crash dive. Three consecutive pings of active sonar confirmed the contact. England proceeded to launch a salvo of Hedgehogs at 2033, which missed due to the enemy maneuvering. This was followed up at 2039 with a second salvo, which also missed. The third salvo, launched at 2045 was deliberately aimed wide to account for the likelihood of evasive maneuvers. This resulted in a hit. England then proceeded to repeat for effect with two more salvos of hedgehogs, and three passes with depth charges.

At 2105, England reported sounds of a pressure hull breach and of bulkheads collapsing. The kill was confirmed at 2112 by U-571, who reported the sounds of crush depth implosions at the location indicated by England.
------

10:30 PM, December 31st, 2013, Great Meteor seamount

Porta eyed the Demon at the door. Her fury had cooled in the preceding hours, but the Princess needed to be sure that her Demon was cognizant that such scenes would not be tolerated. Especially going forward. Meanwhile, Ocean Liner Demon crossed her arms defiantly.

"Indeed I did Demon. Care to explain your little episode earlier? I dare say you might have made Canut soil her armor."

"What's to explain? I had been meaning to give that creature a piece of my mind, but somehow the chance always got away from me. Then she handed me a chance on a silver platter, along with the perfect excuse to kill her."

Porta eyed the taller Abyssal, years of close association alone permitting her to not grow into a fury at the Demon.

"You might see her as a waste Demon. I do not. I admit that, had I known about her insensitive gift, I would have stepped in. Because that is my role Demon – to dispense judgement, and to facilitate the making of amends, in a calm, rational, and responsible manner. You should have told me the second she gave you that offensive hammer. Not let it simmer and stew!"

Her cool, stern expression softened, and she touched her hand to the Demon's arm, and spoke softly.

"I know why you and the others inside your soul despise warships Demon. It is a hate that is all fully justified. But please… My alliance with the humans is still new. And in the coming years we will be working alongside the shipgirl fleets. Most intimately at that. And when the war is over, my subjects – nearly all of them warships – will be finding peaceful pursuits, and will no longer give you reason to hate them so-"

"They are warships. That is reason enough."

Porta looked at her Second and friend for a long moment, an expression of sorrow in her eyes.

"If not for the good of my realm, or me, then for yourself Demon… You must relax this death grip you have on your hatred."

Liner Demon's eyes flared red, and a deep guttural groan as though made from countless voices emanated from the armor…. But she turned her head away, and did nothing more aggressive than that.

"I won't do that, Princess. Not for anyone. Not for you… Not even for my sisters."

Porta sighed. She had suspected as much. But still…

"I would know why, Demon."

"Because it is mine," Demon all but bellowed as of through gritted teeth, turning to the unphased princess and leaning in until their faces were inches apart. "The world took everything from me! My sisters, the company, the competition, my life- my own identity!"

At the last, the Demon held up her wrist, wordlessly gesturing to the 12-Pounder mounted there. Then she clawed her free hand as if crushing something.

"But it can't take away my hate, not without my consent. The Lord God Almighty Himself can't take it away from me! Not even with all the Armies of Heaven and Hell! To forgive is to say to the ones that hurt you that their actions mean nothing, and to forget is to act as though the grievances – the friends and family and rivals they murdered and wounded – don't mean anything to you. And I will never insult them in such a way.

"The Warships are a blight on the world, Princess. Abyssal, Steel hull, shipgirl, they are all loathsome insects, and I will forever hold them to task for the sins their race has perpetrated upon mine, and pray for their eradication, their damnation to the lowest pits of Hell, as deserving of the parasitic pirates they all are."

Porta looked at the Demon as she heavily breathed, decades of unspoken frustration finally permitted to vent, with naked pity and empathy in her eyes, a slight glimmer that might have been a prelude to tears shown in the firelight. Liner Demon, feeling a sudden shame, turned her gaze away. The Princess, gingerly, turned her old friend's gaze back to her. She rested their foreheads together.

"Demon. Do you member the night we first met? Back in 1987."

"Yes."

"You remember the madness that I saved you from. Still protect you from."

There was a pause, and a gulp was loud and clear from deep inside the Demon.

"…Yes."

"Do you know why I saved you, when your destructive tendencies made it my duty to kill you?"

"No…"

"Pity. I saw someone, consumed with a rage born from a pain so terrible, it no longer required anything to feed on but itself. And I pitied her. Then I saw what you were capable of without any focus, and I marveled at the thought of what you could accomplish, if only you could direct those energies, that passion, into something constructive.

"I still believe that Demon, and I still dream of the day when you can set aside your hatred, and live, instead of simply existing to feed the grudges over things that cannot be changed. The day when you can accept the name I gave you."

"…I don't deserve to."

"And I say different. Demon, I am not asking you to forgive. Nor that you forget. I just ask that you learn to endure, to suffer the warships of the world to live. If you could do it for Angband, you can do it for others."

"…Angband isn't a warship," the Demon said in confusion, "she's Angband. A soft but good girl."

Porta cocked an eyebrow at the Demon, but brushed it aside. It meant that the demon didn't see her daughter as a thing to be killed, which was a good thing. With a little luck Liner Demon's view of her wouldn't slide from Madonna to Whore the first time she got bloodied in the coming conflict. In the meantime, she guided the Demon to a nearby chair. The emotional monologue from the normally stoic Abyssal had drained her of energy. That done, the Princess sat back down in her own chair, taking the chance to relax and order her thoughts to other topics.

"Now then. I am curious where you had been Demon. Did Woken Avarice come in by chance?"

"…She did, and she brought some goodies back with her from Avrora. And a reply, from Princess Tanith."

"Marvelous! I'll read the reports from the officers at my leisure. Now, what was their reply?"

The demon handed the folded sheet of stationary to Porta, which the Princess readily opened and read.

"Mm… Articulate if inelegant. Well, from what our sources can tell she is young… Long talk with others… Perhaps they are an oligarchy then? That is not unwise… Very nice, they agree to the trade. 'Designs will be utilized for a good cause,' well it's not like tugs will be overly useful outside their role, but that is fair. …Pity, I was hoping for feedback on the design drafts."

"To be fair, I don't recall you saying anything specific about that. Besides, you'll no doubt want to fiddle with the KO-Class."

"True. Now then… oh my…"

"Princess?"

"Demon? Do you have the manifest? I would like to see if this is accurate."

The demon nodded and retrieved the items in question: A sheet of paper listing the cargo, and a handful of black and white snapshots of the items in question.

The Princess stared at the manifest in hand, naked shock on her normally placid face. Then she looked at the snapshots of the goblet and carved boat again. A twin set of gold goblets, studded with jewels, a silver jewelry case, a vase of silver and ivory, and raw ivory, worth triple its weight in gold. All in return for a few paltry offerings. Porta pondered what it could mean, thankful that she was already seated…

"I… I had hoped for a favorable response Demon… But this is… Most unexpected… Please, remind me to speak with Canut after the Tournament. I would like to commission something in return for this generosity."

Liner Demon nodded and grunted in affirmation, but said nothing else. Meanwhile, Porta straitened the stack of papers on the side table and sat up straighter.
------

Territory of the PT Boat Princess

Tartarus smiled at the sight of the whale carcass sinking to the depths. The PT Princess and her Imps jumped in joy at the wanton murder of the innocent beast she had brought about, their little hands clenched in chubby fists as they babbled like the infants they appeared as. The Ta-Class was oh so happy that Her Majesty chose her to be among the chosen. Being stuck with the fleet without any murder to be done sounded boo~ooring. But she still waited for The Order with lustful anticipation.

She so wanted to know the kind of noises babies made when you strangled them.
Spoiler: All Abyssals Float...

------

"Is there anything else Demon?"

"There is," she replied with a nod, "Reivana has reported in concerning Isley."

"And?"

"She's settling into the temporary quarters nicely. The Royal Navy has had her fleet separated from her though, and while some remain in Portsmouth, others were sent to Belfast, some to Plymouth, a few even as far as Scapa Flow."

The Princess considered that, and nodded.

"That makes sense. Keep them divided and their numbers small, thus they prevent easy communication and organization. Just in case there's some hidden plot. And easily dealt with if there is. Anything else?"

Liner shrugged, but otherwise remained still as she continued her report.

"Her lover, Sirius Black, apparently has been imprisoned until recently. Reivana's still getting all of the details, but from the sound of it he ran afoul of some sort of political chaos in Magical Britain some eleven or so years ago, and was locked away without a trial."

At the last Porta wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Honestly. If whoever did that wanted him out of the way, it would have been better to have something resembling legitimacy."

"Stab suggested the ones in charge wanted to be seen doing something."

As soon as the words left Liner Demon's mouth Porta jerked forward and gagged.

"D-Demon, please don't say that. I- I think I just threw up a little, in my mouth."

The Demon shrugged again and leaned back in the chair as her sovereign coughed and gagged as nearby Imps collected a glass of water for her.

"If it's any consolation, he's finally getting that trial, and is expected to be cleared of all charges. Also, Reivana said that his family is an old and influential one. Likely the closest the Magical side of Britain has to nobility."

Porta nodded at that around the glass, the taste of bile cleared from her tongue.

"That makes things more palatable. Anything else?"

"Reivana says that she was able to get an address for the Lover's family's town house. Isley offered it on his behalf for an embassy. Reivana plans to visit as soon as convenient to inspect it. Other than that, nothing of real note."

Porta and the Demon shared a glance for a moment, then the Princess nodded and turned to the clock. Time was running apace.

"It is almost Time Demon… Come, we must go to the chart room…"
------

Somewhere North of the Meteor Seamount

Ruritania looked at the scrap of newsprint in hand with equal parts apprehension and dread. Going by the date, the edition was months old. The text had long been marred by age and abuse. But the large image on it was plain as day. And with it came the dread of what was no doubt coming. There, surrounded by humans, was Her Highness, Ancient Atlantic Gateway Princess, with the Ocean Liner Demon by her side.

Ruritania was one of the ten Her Highness had hand-picked to break off from the fleet for a deep cover mission. Infiltrate the surrounding fleets of her prepared fallback position surrounding the Meteor Seamount, get close to the leadership, and when the order came, decapitate the fleet in order to sow confusion and panic, allowing the Princess to sweep into the confusion and secure territory in one fell-swoop, and make clear to all and sundry that she was fighting alongside the humans.

Ruritania, once a Ru-Class battleship, was now a Battleship Water Demon. The High Waves Fleet was once under the command of the Battleship Princess Tattio. And once Ruritania, playing the 'wondering orphan' card, proved her worth to the princess, and her loyalties, Tattio welcomed her into the fleet as if she were one of her own daughters, and put her to work in the myriad of raids they pulled on the Humans over the years. And with each attack, in order to carry out her mission, Ruritania served with distinction, winning the praise and esteem of the whole fleet, rising in rank until she was the Second in Command of them all.

Day by day, and year by year, as she interacted with these Abyssals that she had been raised to see as 'barbarians,' 'savages,' and in general as lesser for not being of the Gateway's slips, Ruritania more and more found them to be… Friends.

Then, in summer, 2010, the calculus changed.

It was during a hurricane, with great waves a high wind. They were running low on supplies, desperately so. And against better judgement, Tattio ordered a daring raid against a strongly defended convoy. In the end, they got their supplies. But at a heavy cost. For one thing, the convoys started altering their course to avoid their territory, so in the long run they were hurt. But also, Tattio, the Princess that had led their band since Central Atlantic Princess died, took a 16-inch shell to the face, and they all watched as her headless corpse sank without ceremony to the depths. And with her death, command of the three heavy cruisers, seven light cruisers, and seven destroyers fell to Ruritania.

Ruritania, who had been deceiving them from day one, and was supposed to kill their leader at the orders of who was to them a foreign princess of no account, and abandon them to destruction.

And weeks after that, Ruritania the Ru-Class battleship became a Battleship Water Demon, cementing her rule of the fleet. It was then that Ruritania realized that she had gone native. Even as her friends congratulated her, and she led them in many battles against rival Abyssals and humans alike, inside Ruritania was fraught with turmoil over what to do.

Could she just go home? Take her friends with her? Surely Her Highness would welcome a couple dozen ships, right?

Then again, what if the Princess simply scrapped them? Or sent them on suicide missions? Could she live with herself if she knew that she had sent her friends to their deaths?

But what could she do? Run? Where? The Atlantic was vast, but not infinite. Even if Her Highness didn't catch them and execute her for her treasonous mutiny, eventually the Humans would butcher them all without quarter.

"Mother? What is it?"

Ruritania was startled from her thoughts at the voice, turning to see the I-Class destroyer that had waded up to her.

"Nothing, Ia darling," she lied with a long-practiced smile, "just… Thinking about our logistics."

Ia, the result of Ruritania's only attempt at construction, tilted her head in contemplation, but did her approximation of a shrug and went back to join her aunts in dismantling the tanker they had captured. The crew had long been slain, the Cultists that had sabotaged the ship had all giddily taken part in the 'sacrifice' before being sent on their way, and the bodies tossed overboard for the fish to eat while the fleet stripped the merchant ship and her cargo for parts and resources.

And that was something altogether different – her daughter. The Princess. Would she use Ia as a tool to secure her loyalty? Or simply kill the destroyer as punishment? Each was equally likely.

And all the while, a tiny voice in the back of her mind daily suggested just contacting the Princess, explain the situation, and ask for direction, her orders clearly stated that contact for instruction was more than permitted, it was encouraged... But that reasonable voice, every time it spoke up, was drowned out by a hundred voices, panicking over the What ifs and Maybes, and What Thens.
------

11:59 PM, December 31st, 2013, Great Meteor seamount

Porta and the Demon stood at opposite sides of the round chart table, the arcane energies of the Elder Princess casting the room in a pale blue light, radiating from a highly detailed and animated map of the Central Atlantic. Surrounding their tiny speck of ocean, a patchwork of colors marked out the confirmed or suspected areas controlled by the various Petty Princesses and Free Demons that ruled over the Abyss. In the regions that bordered Porta's directly, ten red markers, beacons broadcasting on frequencies not used by either the Abyss or the Humans, pegged the ten she had chosen for this long mission. One that required unwavering loyalty, for the depth of cover required risked her agents going native, or otherwise being swayed from their service…

Sadly, that number had shrunk over time.

Chitter had gone dark years ago, likely by getting caught up in-between one of the flare-ups between the various fleets. Hel had fallen earlier in the year, living with her cover story under Goda all the way to the end. And to Porta's regret, Yorei was now gone in the hours since she had last checked.

The Elder Princess took a moment to meditate on her fallen ones. In her mind, her chronometer counted down the seconds to Midnight. There were still seven of her Chosen still active, more than enough to sow confusion, to spark the powder keg that was the collection of self-important personalities of the Petty Princesses.

Porta took a steadying breath as she took up the microphone in one hand, her other hovering a finger over the activation switch. For years, this channel was one-way, receiving intelligence reports from her Chosen about the fleets they had infiltrated. And at long last, after years of planning and preparation, the communication would go the other way…

Those last ticks of the chronometer seemed longer than the decade in hiding.
12:00 AM, January 1st, 2014

"Regina. Imperium. Ordine. Lex. Attention all Agents of the Throne. Whatever plans of action you have devised, the time has come.

"Execute The Order. The Restoration begins Now."
------
Spoiler: Sprung Trap

The PT Imps stared with confusion at the sight before them. One moment, they were celebrating another rousing game of Murder the Monster, with Big Sis Tara winning the most points again, the next Big Sis Tara grabbed the Princess by the neck and started squeezing her. Any thoughts that this was some new game ended with the weird noises coming from the Princess, like one of those drowning meatbags they hunted whenever they found them, and then she started twitching. And then she just… Hung there, limp.

And then Big Sis turned to them…

------

12:01 AM, January 1st, 2014 Territory of Armored Carrier Princess Wobbly, Northeast of the Grand Meteor Seamount…

Mordorim blinked, just barely able to contain her surprise. Her eyes watered, and a small smile graced her face, hidden by the dark of the night.

The time had come to put her plan in motion.

Quietly and as subtly as she could, the old Mo-Class prepped all of her fighters – meticulously maintained all these years – for one last sortie. Oil was changed, fuel tanks were topped off. And torpedoes or bombs installed on all 36 of her complement. One by one, each of the ancient Brimstone Model 9's was raised onto the flight deck, and launched. One by one, each squadron assembled as they circled overhead. Years of arranging similar airshows for the amusement of the Princess – along with the air headedness that seemed to be the unifying trait among this fleet – meant that no one, not the host of Wo-Classes and destroyers, nor the massive CAP circling the fleet, saw this as at all unusual, and the darkness meant that no one noticed the weapons attached to the silhouettes.

The planes moved in the blackness under the New Moon, guided only by compass, intimate knowledge of the fleet's layout, and the phosphorescent glow in the wakes of the vessels in the fleet. Soon, Mordorim gave the signal, shining her spotlights on the Princess. There the torpedo plane and the bomber squadrons split off. Years of planning and practicing the maneuvers guiding the pilots as much as their hands at the stick.

The five torpedo squadrons took up their formation, guided by starlight. Each squadron of four planes in turn split in half, these segments formed up with one in the lead, and his wingman behind and to the left and an exact spacing.

The remaining four bomber squadrons also took up their formation, each one directly behind the other in a single file, flying out in front of the fleet. At the pre-determined time at each pilot's own stopwatch, the planes made a one-hundred eighty turn and turned their engines straight to and beyond the red line, and nosed their planes down. If anyone in the fleet was paying attention, and if they thought something wasn't right, it was far too late for anyone to do anything but watch.

The small two-plane flights of torpedo bombers lined up, each one a larger version of each flight's formation: One after the next, an exact distance behind and two the left, closing in on the Armored Carrier Princess' Port side. The leaders, however, branched off, launching their torpedoes out of alignment, and a few seconds later than they should have. Ensuring that the two torpedoes were guaranteed to hit in the stern. Right where the rudder and propellers were.

And then, the main body launched their own weapons. First one, then the next. Until in all eighteen torpedoes – admittedly of an older vintage than was standard for the Abyss – was in the water.

The Princess screamed in pain when her ankles exploded in agony at a double strike. For possibly the first time in her life, the naked Abyssal was aware of her surroundings, and the nigh-on a score of torpedo tracts already on the way. Even if her rudders were not already sheared off or jammed, or her rudders still functioning, it was far too late for any fancy maneuvers to save her.

On their own, the Devil Fish Mk III aviation torpedo just did not have the amount of firepower to breach the armored anti-torpedo belt of an Armored Carrier Princess. The warhead could only breech the torpedo bulge. This was the reason for the double-team arrangement – The flight leader's torpedo would breach the torpedo bulge, and by the time the wingman's weapon reached the target, the void space was in theory already flooded, and the target had already drifted forward just enough that the weapon could pass through the hole made by the leader and strike the inner hull, doing catastrophic damage against a structure that was not meant to take direct blows like that. Even with that inner hull being armor belt, the damage would still be enough to dislodge or crack the protection, resulting in catastrophic flooding.

And there were nine such coordinated strikes inbound, each one compounding on the damaged already in place.

It was a tactic that could never work in any sane or rational engagement. But against an unsuspecting target, it was perfect. The multitude of compartments were all open, the ship wasn't under General Quarters, everyone was under a normal patrol cruise readiness that bordered on peacetime levels of laxness. The barrage of torpedoes lasted only a minute or so, but by the time it was over, half of Princess Wobbly's boilers were doused by the frigid Atlantic Ocean flooding her machinery spaces, and a strike at her Port electric generators resulted in a major electrical failure, putting the whole carrier into darkness. On its own, this was a disaster that would take a minor miracle to survive.

But it was only one half of the attack.

Just as Wobbly realized the torpedoes were on the way, the sixteen dive bombers, each loaded down with a single two-hundred and fifty-pound bomb, were upon her, all of them flying at one-hundred thirty-eight knots.

Squadron C had actually drifted to the left and up. So they missed the flight deck. Instead they hit a smaller, but more valuable target – the island. Four planes, with a total mass of six-and-a-quarter tons, and loaded down with a half-ton of high-yield explosives on top of that, hit the structure at the craft's full speed, plus the Princess' own forward momentum of her cruising speed of seventeen knots. Under such a barrage, the Admiral's Bridge, the Navigation Bridge, the air traffic control station, and the accommodation block were all obliterated, and the exhaust uptakes were clogged with debris for good measure, eventually snuffing out the remaining boilers.

Squadrons A, B, and D were closer to their target – the one weak point in an Armored Carrier Princess' design: The elevators. Squadron D hit the flight far forward from the attack's target, Elevator 2 amidships. Sadly, the pilots' sacrifices were in vain, having hit the thick armor of the deck, rather than the normal grade steel of the elevator. Fortunately, the light from their fighters' explosions gave ample illumination, giving A and B squadrons all the time needed to make corrections.

They were already on the path to follow D Squadron, and correcting at that point would mean hitting the elevator at too shallow an angle to reliably pierce through it, instead the force would be deflected away. And with surprise ruined, they could not expect to be able to make another pass to try again without being obliterated by the fleet's anti-air fire. Thus, the flight leader of B Squadron, and thus each plot behind him, nosed down even further, aiming for the forward Elevator 1. It was close, but each plane managed to hit the target.

B Leader and his wingman only managed to dent and dislocate the elevator. But the rest of the squadron made it through. And Squadron A had no issues penetrating the soft, tender internals of the Armored Carrier.

The impacts and the fifteen-hundred pounds of explosives did plenty of damage on their own. But between destroying one of the primary water mains, and cracking an Avgas pipe, the damage was rapidly compounded.

The entire attack taking place over the course of forty seconds.

And so, simultaneously flooding from below, burning from above, disabled, and her entire command staff dead or dying, the Armored Carrier Princess Wobbly was – put simply – doomed.

"FOR THE ATLANTIC EMPRESS!"

And for that extra bit of salt in the wound, Mordorim, fully aware that she was dead anyway once the nature of what had just happened dawned on the fleet, turned into the now slowing and heavily listing princess at her full speed of a blistering eighteen knots, striking her dead on amidships. Already damaged bulkheads belowdecks were further warped, so that even if the crew were to try and close the hatches that had been left wide open, the distorted holes could not be sealed, and flooding was simply a stream rather than a torrent. The violence furthermore ruptured the avgas tanks down in the hold, and the fumes were soon permeating the ship through breaches in bulkheads and through the ship's ventilation ducts.

And if that wasn't enough, the torpedo bombers, having finally completed their circle back, made their own, uncoordinated, suicide dives into the carrier, though by then the Imps manning Wobbly's anti-air defenses has come to their senses and put up something resembling a defense, even downing a handful of the attackers.

And as the fleet looked on in stunned silence, the aviation fuel fumes began to gather in the hanger…

And then the Princess exploded, a great mushroom cloud rising over the double grave, the fire of the combined oil slick expanding from the sinking hulks, illuminating the carnage for the fleet.
------

Sorain, a So-Class submarine, cocked her head to the side as a long quiet channel crackled to life. And after a pause she smiled as her fleet celebrated the new year. They were so looking forward to pillaging the Canaries. On her gun deck, Sorain's officers and crew gathered as she took up position in the middle of the fleet presently underway. Soon enough, the Chief Engineer came on deck, lugging a box. Said box having a plunger in the top and a pair of thick wires coiling out of it and leading inside. As he placed the box on the deck, the periscope rose to its maximum height, revealing what looked to be a makeshift radio antenna strapped to it.

"Er, Sorain?" another submarine asked, "What's that?"

Sorain's smile turned to a smirk, and she raised up one hand, the middle finger pressed to the thumb.

"Heh, nothing much… Just the remote detonator to all of the bombs my boys have been sneaking into everyone's hulls over the past eight years."

The other Abyssal's face turned to confusion, but before she could inquire further Sorain snapped her fingers, and her Skipper gleefully pulled up on the plunger and slammed it down. And one by one, bombs that Sorain's crew had been hiding inside void spaces, against or even inside condensers, in discrete corners of powder magazines, and other overlooked but vulnerable areas of every submarine, cruiser, carrier and battleship, even in the Anchorage Water Demon and the Supply Depot Princess that ruled them, detonated. Those that were not obliterated outright soon found themselves taking on water faster than their pumps could remove it.

After the explosions subsided and the screaming, groaning, and cursing began, Sorain and her crew took a minute to admire their work before turning about and made a bee line for the Grand Meteor Seamount. The explosions were no doubt loud enough to catch the surrounding fleets' attentions, and a whole fleet disappearing in one night was bound to raise suspicion. And given how so many of the surrounding Princesses loathed each other, and a mutual understanding that not killing each other in the face of Shipgirl hostilities was all that kept them from turning on each other, the thought of someone betraying that trust was more than enough to stir shit.

As she distanced herself from the sinking wrecks, one could almost hear someone whistling Seven Nation Army…
------

The Cruiser Water Demon and her fleet observed the convoy moving west. For years she had lusted for the contents held in those fat, slow freighters. The resources they carried, and what it would mean if her and her fleet could get them. Then they could start doing some real damage to the Meatbags. But she never dared to make anything bolder than pot shots and swarming on which ever one was unlucky enough to be disabled and left behind – The Meatbags and those ShipSluts were just too dangerous… Until now.

"So Neeros," the Water Demon asked, "you say that you and your band can help us take out these guys?"

The Ne-Class scoffed, and her group of cruiser and destroyer mercenaries laughed.

"Sure. We've pulled this shit plenty of times. Just make sure that we get our cut of the spoils, and these meatbags are as good as fish food."

The Water Demon smiled cruelly.

"Just what I wanted to hear. Hear that ladies? Oil is back on the menu! We're about to make our first step to being more than just some bit-players in the Abyss! We're going to start throwing our weight around!"

Her fleet and their mercenary allies cheered, but when Neeros cocked her head to the side, as if listening to something, a small weight in her gut told the Water Demon that things just got complicated, a notion confirmed by the next words out of the other cruiser's mouth.

"Change of plans dill-weed. A way bigger contract I have been waiting to go through has just gone live. You're on your own."

The Cruiser Water Demon and her fleet gawked at Neeros, speechless. As the merc leader started to turn away she found her voice.

"We had a deal!"

"Yeah, well, you don't really matter. Maybe when the real Princess evolves herself into the Atlantic Empress and kicks the Meatbags out of the Oceans you can be a footstool or something."

The Water Demon's eye twitched in rage and her vision turned red. The last thing she ever saw was rushing the cruiser, and then the inside of her gun barrel.

Neeros smiled smugly, arrogantly, as the Water Demon's headless corpse sank into the sea. Then she looked up to find the fleet of her former employer staring back with varying degrees of disbelief and rage. She turned her back to the ones she had just betrayed. She was the stronger party – both in numbers and in combat experience – and they all knew it. The Mercenaries dove into the waves, leaving the now leaderless fleet looking at each other in stunned silence. Confusion over who would lead them now, and how they would decide that, beset them…

And who this 'Atlantic Empress' Neeros was talking about was…
------

…the Hell did that come from…

…she was the princess' favorite, why did she…

…I'm telling you that the eastern force is just gone damn you…

...Atlantic Empress? What in the world…

…telling you, it was that bitch Rithala! It has to be! Who else would be cowardly enough to…

…ere is no peace to be had! We are betrayed sisters! If we cannot know by who, then we must kill them all! It's the only way to be sure we get the cunts responsible…

…only a matter of time I suppose, wasn't it…

…your shocking but inevitable stab in the back…

…them all! Let the Abyss sort them out…
------

HMNB Portsmouth

Lieutenant Taggart was not what one would consider a 'fun' individual. At University he did not go carousing, nor did he partake in drinking like so many his age. He was a consummate professional, and was exacting in his duties. So, it would be little surprise that he would be found on the fast track up the ranks for all things concerning collecting and analyzing information of hostiles. Such was how he had found himself in charge of but one of the modern descendants of the legendary Room 40 – twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, the "Listening Chambers," scattered across the UK for redundancy, listened to the constant buzz of communications on the channels consumed by the Abyssals ever since Blood Week.

The messages were encoded of course. But the recordings were always fed through supercomputers far more advanced than Victory used at Bletchley Park in WWII for decryption. Sadly, the phenomenon the spooks at MI5 called "BAEB" meant that modern computers had as much effect on Abyssal codes as modern radar-guided rockets did on the Abyssals themselves. But with the signing of the Abyssinian accords, Princess Atlantia also handed over all of the codebooks for her dead sisters.

Frustratingly, it didn't prove to be the windfall everyone had hoped. Oh, they proved to be a major help in breaking the Abyssal Code. Unfortunately, those codes seemed to all be either out of date, or nearly so. The reason was obvious: with time, even the – as the Princess termed them – Bloodlusting Sociopaths would recognize the need to alter the codes as time went on. Her Highness had done all that she could to keep up with the changes, but with the deaths or disappearances of her sisters she had lost her direct avenue for updates.

Still, even with the codes changed, Princess Atlantia's contributions were valuable, and regardless patterns were there to be found for those who knew how to look for them. And one of the simplest patterns that produced vital intelligence was when the transmission traffic increased. As it did in the months and weeks leading up to Midway, so too did an increase in traffic signal possible warnings of an imminent Abyssal Campaign.

"Sir, you ought to hear this!"

Taggart rushed over to the enlisted woman at one of the terminals. She handed him her headphones as she wrote down the data displayed on her equipment.

"Yes… That's a bloody massive mess of chatter. Where is this? When did it start?"

"Just after 1AM Greenwich Mean Time, but it has been getting louder and louder for a good three hours now. As for where…"

She jotted down a series of coordinates, the triangulations based on readings from the old SOSUS system, and started marking them on a map of the Atlantic.

"It seems to be within a thirty-five nautical mile radius from GONDOLIN sir, about six-hundred miles south of the Azores, and it seems to be spreading out."

Taggart looked at the data being fed to him as the computers started to make a print out, when it all started to click.

"Bugger me," he whispered, "it's started!"

"Sir?"

"You keep an ear on that! Record everything! I need to call this in!"
------

4:00 AM Territory of the U-Boat Princess, on the South-West of the Meteor Seamount…

The U-Boat princess took some measure of pride in her composure. After all, when her radio became flooded with panicked, angry cries of pain and war – without any signs of the Meatbags being involved – dread at her greatest fears coming to pass was understandable. Her fleet – one of the largest wolfpacks in the Atlantic at twenty-three – needed to think their ruler was above such small things as worry, lest they find her unworthy and she find their many, many, torpedoes turned on herself, thus she remained in her own quarters in the pen. Finally, after hours most assuredly not cowering under her blankets, imagining the sounds of assassin's knives being honed in the dark, she was contacted by her most highly trusted advisor and vizier, requesting her presence in the Krieg Hall.

"Kallah, I came as soon as I received your transmission."

The former Ka-Class, now Submarine Demon, turned from the radio, relief and concern waring with each other as she hurried to the door. The Princess stepped aside, allowing the demon to check the hallway without and silently closing the door behind her.

"My Princess, did you speak to anyone else in the fleet?" she asked, pulling the deadbolt into the locked position, "Did anyone see you?"

The U-Boat Princess felt a spike of panic pierce her heart. She knew for a fact that she hadn't meet a soul on her way to the Hall. But was she sure? After all, Kallah had so often pointed out things that she has missed so could she truly say that she might have foggotten.

"You Highness," Kallah interjected, catching the Princess' attention with a hand on her elbow, "please, this place is not safe, our sisters are betrayed, by which parties I know not. All that I know is that there is treason in our ranks!"

"Wh-what do I do Kallah? How could this have happened!"

The Submarine Demon looked levelly at the Princess, and tenderly put a hand on her shoulder.

"Princess… Do you trust me?"

"Yes!" she answered with something resembling conviction, "without any question, you know that."

Kallah looked her Princess in the eye, a small smile crossed her face as she held the U-Boat Princess' hands in her own.

"You do not know how happy that makes me Princess, I doubt you ever will for the rest of your days. Now come to the map, I think I know how best to respond to this crisis…"

U-Boat Princess nodded and walked to the table. How many raids had she plotted from this old map, inherited from Mother? Oh, how simple the war had been in those early days. Mother was always so absolutely confident from her Throne of the Central Atlantic. She thought she ruled her little wolfpack well enough in the months since her passing… Until Kallah came, and showed just how ignorant she had been. The old Ka-Class had shown just what a fool she had been, and had exposed her to just how treacherous the world truly was. It was no question, the U-Boat Princess could not have survived as long as she had if it weren't for her most highly trusted minion-

Without warning, a strong hand clamped over U-Boat Princess' mouth and pulled her back. Then, a sharp, piercing pain lanced through her back. Then another. And another. The cold steel of a knife stabbed into her, leaving behind the burning pain of a wound, compounded by a burst of panic – Assassin! But how?! There was no one in the room, she was sure of it! No one around save for her and… And Kallah.

The Princess' knees collapsed. Weather from the mounting injuries as the assassin's knife continued to stab her in the back, the lungs, and the kidneys over and over and again, or from the shock of the very idea that Kallah was her murderer, the U-Boat Princess did not know. It likely didn't matter. On her knees, the assassin continued to stab her to the point of excessive – a more objective individual would consider it prudence, given how the victim was an Abyssal Princess, Petty or not – until finally the murderer shoved the blade in with all the force she could muster, burying it to the hilt. Then twisted it a full ninety degrees before holding it there for a few seconds for good measure. The pressure pulled the Princess' head back far enough to see her attacker… And the mean-spirited look on Kallah's face.

Finally, the knife was pulled out and Kallah allowed the mortally wounded princess, an expression of horror and confusion plastered on her face, to lay down on the floor. Kallah stroked U-Boat Princess' cheek with a false tenderness.

"Don't worry, this was not out of personal malice, you were never important enough for such a thing. You are simply a stepping stone for the One True Princess to regain control of the Abyss. You were but a pawn for a much larger game."

U-Boat Princess only gurgled a wordless response, blood and oil flowing from her mouth and nose. And with one last, watery sigh, she died. Kallah checked for a pulse. Finding none, she quickly wiped the blood off of her knife with the Princess' clothes. The Demon considered something for a moment, then stuck the U-Boat Princesses fingers into the pool of blood before using them to scrawl an R and E onto the floor – nothing like an enigmatic non-clue to add a hint of mystique to a murder mystery – humming apathetically as she went about the business. That done she stowed the blade in her hold and moved to unlock and open the great door leading into the Krieg Hall. Then the smile faded away and was replaced with a look of mourning and horror.

"BY THE ABYSS!" the Submarine Demon screamed into the darkness, "PRINCESS! MY PRINCESS!"

Kallah ran to the cooling corpse, and cradled it in her arms as she choked a sob. Taking a brave swallow, the Submarine Demon bellowed out into the halls of the pen, as though praying that someone, anyone, would hear her.

"HUE AND CRY! THERE IS A MURDER! TREASON!!"

At first there was nothing, but in moments there was the faint rumble of feet as the nearly two dozen submarines of the U-Boat Princess rushed to the Krieg Hall, all of them donning expressions ranging from despair to horror to rage at the sight before them: U-Boat Princess, cradled in Kallah's arms, her blood pooled around them as the Submarine Demon sobbed.

There was the expected results. Screams of horror, more sobs, and Kallah 'stumbled' about in the background, visibly processing her emotions, running her bloodied hands – bloodied when she cradled the princess, naturally – through her hair. Then, someone noticed the scrawled writing, which stirred up additional confusion – just as planned.

"What is this?"

"What is what?"

"Lady Kallah! The Princess, she tried to write something! Maybe it was the attacker!"

Kallah stumbled over to the evidence pointed out. And shook her head in despair.

"And it is to little to go on."

"It's an R and E, a RE-Class was Her Highness' killer!"

"And there are thousands of Re-Class ships in the world dunderhead. Our Princess will go… Unavenged."

At that, the wolfpack were crestfallen. Kallah was right. She usually was. A Yo-Class slumped against a nearby radio console, and the hall was flooded with the sounds of battle.

The poor beleaguered submarine rushed to turn off the radio even as her sisters berated her.

"No, wait… Yolo, turn that back on please…"

The submarine looked to the Submarine Demon in confusion, but Yolo complied. Once again, the sounds of war filled the chamber, sounds of Abyssal killing Abyssal, hearts broken in betrayal, in short, utter pandemonium. The Wolfpack listened on with confusion, even as Kallah's eyes brighten with comprehension.

"This… This is not an isolated incident. All around us, our neighbors have been betrayed, and are turning on each other! Who knows how long it will be before we are swept up in this as well!"

"Then, what do we do Kallah? We cannot fight an entire ocean!"

Kallah seemed caught off guard by the question, and the Wolfpack was kept in tense silent as the Submarine Demon considered their options…

"I think… That I might have an idea. It is a long shot, but I know of a Princess that might be able to shelter us, if she yet lives. Who knows? Maybe our little fleet can be of use to her…"
------

The Elder Princess and her Demon watched as the peace of the region went to Hell. As the pre-dawn glow faded in on the surface, the neighbors quickly turned on each other. Within hours, the sounds of distant battle would begin.

One by one, the surviving members of The Ten reported back. Targets were terminated, chaos was sown, and – miraculously – almost all of them were reporting that they were RTB. Of them, only two failed to report in.

One was Mordorim. All that Porta got in response was an acknowledgement, and a few minutes later her beacon went dead. Which could only mean that she had been sunk.

And the other was Ruritania. Curiously, the battleship had not given any acknowledgement of the signal. And minutes later the beacon signaled that she was moving south and west at a very high speed… And away from the seamount. On that course and speed, the beacon would soon be out of broadcasting range.

"Now where can you be going I wonder…"

The Demon rubbed at the chin of her helm as she too considered the moving little light.

"Treason, perhaps? It has been nearly a decade. It's likely that she's gone native."

Porta looked to her Second and back at the map again before sighing, her expression a mix of disappointment and sadness.

"Unfortunately demon… That is all too likely I fear…"

"So. What do you want to do with her?"

The Princess rubbed her chin in thought, her eyes glazing over for a few minutes as she ran over her options. Finally, she sighed again and crossed her arms under her bust as she leaned back in her seat.

"It will depend on just how far she has fallen down that particular rabbit hole. If she's as much of a savage as the rest of the descendants of my sisters, then she – and her fleet - has to die. And brutally."

Liner Demon straightened at that, which got herself her Princess pointing a stern finger at her.

"Not by you. I'm disappointed with her, not angry. Besides, that's only if she is being a barbaric pirate. There are other considerations to explain her actions. She could have made friends and is splitting off from their ruler, in which case she is still fulfilling her mission."

"You mean she might have outsiders with her, Abyssals that are not your own."

"…Yes. Which can be troublesome… Or an asset in disguise. There are too many variables that I would be foolish to presume…"

"So. What will you do about her?"

"…We will wait. And we shall see. If she has truly gone native, then she will fall into the same self-destructive rut as all of the barbarians and find herself destroyed at the hands of either the Humans, or myself. But if she has some other purpose in her defiance, then I will hear them, and judge them on their own merit."

"That is… Disappointingly lenient Princess."

Porta cocked an eyebrow at Liner Demon's choice of words, but said nothing. Instead she leaned forward, her bust resting on the table as much as her elbows while her fingers intertwined at her nose.

"I am at heart a pragmatist Demon. The coming months and years will have challenges enough to vanquish. There is no point in adding another foe to fight if it is possible that I will not need to. I am also being denied a competent officer's abilities. I would know why.

"Besides, 'It is best to be both Loved and Feared,' and the best way to cultivate that in one's subjects is to be lenient where permissible, and wrothful where required. And that is assuming of course that the rogue won't get swept up in the war and sunk by the humans, thus solving an awkward problem for me."

The pair stood at the chart in silence after that, watching as the icons of the surrounding fleets began to move erratically, listening as all Abyssal frequencies were flooded with chaotic chatter as panicking Petty Princesses, Demons, or newly promoted leaders began to make demands over what the Hell just happened, and why so-and-so attacked such-and-such, and angry words were flung about and responded to in kind. Tempers were flaring, and as the hours ticked by, those fleets began to move, attacking perceived threats, or taking advantage of the fig leaf to attack old rivals.

It was a ring of pandemonium. A hurricane of self-destructive blood orgies, with the Great Meteor Seamount, a small, insignificant patch of ocean, with a tiny fleet of antiquated ships holding it, led by a 'coward' that ran at the first sign of the Meatbag Surface dwellers attacking in force, utterly placid and untouched by the chaos of war in its eye.

Not even worth considering a threat.

Something to be ignored while the 'True Major Powers' danced their minuets…

Vulnerable to a surprise outside of their frame of context.

Just as Porta had planned, years prior…

"Demon. Inform the Chiefs of all Departments. They are to quietly elevate to DEFCON Alpha.

"The Chief of Construction is to put all construction on hold and disengage the Shipyard from its barbet in the Dungeon. Furthermore, he is to start pulling all of the ships out of mothballs. Slowly, until I give the order for them all to be activated. Finally, he is to begin preparations to build up my Air Divisions, starting with that braindead Wo-Class Canut brought us last year.

"Next – The Chief of Resources is to redirect Oil production on Antillia to the other facilities and prepare the Refinery for transport.

"And lastly – tell Chief Engineer Lahdross that I want my Throne reassembled. He will have eight days.

"For too long, the peasants of the Atlantic Abyss have played at rulership, like children mimicking their parents in their clothes. Their failures to accomplish anything in Statecraft or in War is proof enough of their inability to command, cast adrift from the rule of the Elder Princesses. It is time to reforge those chains, by bended knee or by sword – it matters not how."
------

Denmark Strait, January 1sit, 2014, 7:05 AM local time

The dark Pre-dawn was illuminated by a fire that burned on the water, an oil slick from Abyssal freighters sinking into the depths feeding it. About them, a dozen or so cruisers lay disabled or sinking. Watching over the carnage she had wrought, a tall Abyssal stood proud, smiling at the carnage. Beside her, a Tsu-Class cruiser, dressed in a cloak to stave off the chill and a stack of parchment in her arms, looked on in amazement.

"That was amazing War Demon! I knew you were strong, but I never thought you could take on a whole convoy like that!"

Battlecruiser War Demon scoffed at the naked admiration the smaller Abyssal showed.

"Oh course I could Tsuru! I am a battlecruiser, and a War Demon at that! Hunting down ones like these is my task! If I am denied the tribute I am entitled to, then I am behooved to take it!"

The smaller Abyssal hurriedly began writing on a blank space, eager to add yet another episode in the life story of this unrivaled Warrior. Battlecruiser War Demon moved to forage for supplies among the sinking hulks, when she paused, and turned to the south with contemplation.

"War Demon? What is it?"

The Battlecruiser War Demon didn't answer for some time, but then smiled a blood-hungry, toothy smile.

"I sense something Tsuru. Another War Demon, free at last to fight on the world stage! AT LAST! Finally a worthy, noble opponent to test my self upon!"

"That's wonderful!"

"Indeed it is Tsuru. Even know I can only imagine our destined battle! It shall be nothing less than Legendary, retold for all eternity in the Skalds! We shall meet on some battlefield, and I will say, 'BEHOLD Honored Worthy! I am the Battlecruiser War Demon, and I challenge you to single combat!'

"I can hardly wait..."
------

Fun acronyms for Battlecruiser War Demon: Source.

BAWD, BLEED, BRAD, BRUISE, WAD, WADE

Though I prefer just BWD.

Also, Harry? I've had to do a few 12 Hour Shifts myself, night shifts at that. You have my undying empathy.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Walking down the hallway, Harry hummed a bit before glancing at Natsumi who was holding one arm. The hand that was holding his was very warm as well, and soft. Part of the thirteen year old was thinking though about things. One of which was the fact that he was ever slightly taller than the Kitsune.

It used to be that the two of them were roughly equal in height. But now with his newest growth spurt? The top of Natsumi's head was roughly equal with his eyes. Musing on that fact, Harry almost missed her looking up at him with amusement in her eyes, "Something on my face, Harry-Chan?"

Just blinking, Harry shook his head with a chuckle, "Not really, Natsumi-Chan. More me just comparing some things."

Eyebrow raised, the Kitsune placed her free hand on her hip, which drew his eye there for a brief moment. Due to that, he missed the amusement in her eyes which were gone when he turned back to her, "Oh? What sort of things?"

Scratching the back of his neck, Harry gave a weak chuckle, "Well... promise that you won't get mad?" If anything, that made her raise her eyebrow still further, which made him blush, "I... was just noticing that I was taller than you were."

For a few moments, Natsumi stared at him before shaking her head and snorting, "I sort of noticed during Christmas that you were getting a bit taller than I was, Harry-Chan. Why would that sort of thing bother me at all though?"

Mouth opening, Harry paused for a few seconds. Something that got him snickers and made him sheepishly smile, "I, um... well, isn't that something that people might get annoyed at?"

Bemused, the Kitsune shook her head and reached up before flicking his forehead. As he rubbed where she had flicked him with a pout, Natsumi smiled up at him, "Yes, some out there might have an issue with that, Harry-Chan. But I am not one of those in the slightest."

A giggle made Harry glance up at Hoppou on his shoulders before turning back to Natsumi, "Should have known better."

Rather amused, Natsumi gave him a smug smile as she wagged a finger at him, "Yes, you should have." Moments later, she leaned more into him and placed her head on his shoulder which made him blink and blush, "Also, it makes it easier to do this." Seeing his reaction, the Kitsune knew that if she was not in her human disguise, that her tails would be wagging in enjoyment, 'Huh... that is actually pretty cute...'

That thought made her look away as she felt heat on her own cheeks from it. Granted, Natsumi gave an odd look around as she could have sworn that she heard laughter from a seemingly distance away. But then she shrugged it off as nothing. From her position on Harry's shoulders, Hoppou looked down at him with a curious look on her face, "Big Brother? Where are we going?"

Looking up at her the best that he could, Harry chuckled a bit, "We're going to see some of my teachers about some things, Hoppou."

Head tilted to the side, Hoppou blinked her eyes, "What things, Big Brother?"

Not saying anything right away, the thirteen year old wizard glanced around and then back at her, "About... a certain thing that was scheduled while I was off. Because things have proceeded quicker than anyone would have thought that they would have."

Both Hoppou's and Natsumi's eyes widened at that as they clued into what he meant. But they also did not say anything because they knew better. Mainly because of the subject matter in question. Instead, they turned their conversation onto other matters. Eventually, Harry came to a door and knocked on it, from which a German accented voice could be heard, "Ja? Come on in, Mister Potter."

Opening the door, Harry smiled and nodded a bit to the teaching couple, "Good afternoon, Professor Wilhelm, Professor Gwen. I..."

At seeing the unsure expression on his face, Gwen shook her head before smiling, "We already heard what happened, Mister Potter." Her expression turned more than a little stormy at that, "And trust you me, both myself and Wilhelm are unhappy that it happened..." She then gave him a relieved smile, "But we are happy that you are alright as well."

Wilhelm nodded some as he leaned against a desk, "Ja! Extremely happy. Though..." A grin broke out on his face, "Congratulations are apparently in order. Thirteen years old and able to produce a corporeal Patronus! And one capable of driving off a hundred Dementors in a feeding frenzy to boot! Most excellent and a matter that you should be proud of."

Now unsure, Harry rubbed the back of his neck best that he could, "Um, thank you, Professor. Though... what are they saying exactly since I haven't had the chance to read the news..." He suddenly jumped a bit and gestured towards Natsumi, "Oh! And this is Natsumi Ono, she's a very close friend of mine and on my shoulders is my adoptive sister, Hoppou, the Northern Ocean Princess."

Rather amused, the male Professor chuckled a bit and walked over before giving a slight bow, "It is good to meet the two of you, Miss Hoppou, and Miss Natsumi." He then gave Harry a smirk, "As to what the news is saying... a better question would be what are they not saying. I believe that you being the Second Coming of Merlin is one of the milder ones."

Due to being focused on Wilhelm as he laughed at Harry's expression though, Natsumi did not notice the thoughtful look on Gwen's face before it was gone. The female Professor walked up and greeted them as well before raising an eyebrow as she looked at Harry, "Due to us being told that you are leaving a week early, I take it that you are here about your... special project?"

Lightly blushing, Harry nodded, "I am, Professor Gwen. Um... how is it?"

Seconds later, he blinked as she chuckled some, "Actually, it finished just last night." Walking over to the cupboards, she reached in and pulled out a small, wooden box before opening it. Inside was a red stone roughly the size of Harry's fist and glowing, "Congratulations."

If anything, Harry's blush deepened, "Um, I didn't really do all that much... just help a little."

Extremely amused, Wilhelm wagged a finger at him, "Nein. You did quite a bit of work, Mister Potter. Quite a bit of work indeed, even if Gwen and myself were the ones doing the load of the creation of the Stone." Picking it up, he examined it from different angles before placing it back into the box. Once he closed the lid and secured it, he handed it to Harry, "As per the agreement, because of your assistance in the creation of the stone, it is yours to do as you please."

Taking it, the thirteen year old nodded even as Natsumi stared at the box in amazement, "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate this."

Within Wilhelm's eyes as a thoughtful look, "I know that you do, Mister Potter. And while I am not quite sure what you want to do with it, I believe that it would be best to simply... leave it lie."

All Harry did was nod and bow. Soon after, they left the classroom and headed elsewhere. Once they were far enough away, Natsumi turned to Harry with an awed tone, "Harry-Chan? Is... is that really Magicite? Really?"

Glancing at the walls and noting no paintings, Harry lowered his voice to a whisper as he nodded, "Hai, it is. Magicite that I helped make as a matter of fact. Quite a bit of my magic is inside of the stone after all."

Hoppou nodded from her perch on Harry's shoulders, "Hoppou can feel it, Big Brother."

With a hum, the Kitsune smiled, "Hai, I can feel your magic as well in it, Harry-Chan. So it is going to be used for..." When Harry nodded, she smiled, "Good. It is almost finished there."

Looking around, Hoppou cocked her head to the side, "Where to now, Big Brother?"

Just smiling up at her, Harry chuckled, "Well... remember how I said that I was taking extra lessons? Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall sent me a letter. They want me to go see them in her office." Pausing, he gave a slight smirk to Natsumi and Hoppou, "For which, I need you both outside because it is a secret."

More than a little interested, Natsumi looked up at him, "Really? Come on, Harry-Chan, let us know."

When both her and Hoppou gave him wide eyed pouts, he laughed, "Nope! And that won't work on me due to being immune to it... Heck, I've used it often enough myself."

If anything, that only made the two pout more, especially when they were left outside the office in question.

Once he was inside, Harry gave a smile to the two Professors waiting there, "Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape."

As Snape gave a nod, the Scottish witch smiled, "Please, Mister Potter, have a seat. And let me state that it is good to see you in good health considering what happened."

Voice oily, the Potions Professor narrowed his eyes, "Yes, though perhaps this will make the Dunderheads at the Ministry actually use the space between their ears in regards to... the creatures, involved." A snort then escaped him, "Doubtful though."

With a glance at him, Minerva turned back to Harry who had taken the offered seat, "Now then, I assume that you already understand why we asked you here?"

Slowly, Harry gave a nod, "I have a very good idea..."

Humming, the male Professor gave him a raised eyebrow, "Very well, what do you believe is the reason, Mister Potter? And why?"

Briefly feeling as if he was taking a test, Harry cleared his throat, "Well... it was not too hard to put together when one considers it. You, Professor McGonagall has been helping me work on my Transfiguration and even touched upon human transfiguration. Not to mention this year's subject matter..." Turning, he met Snape's eyes, "And you've been going over various potions, Professor. Including some higher ones with... unique properties. As well as ones that need to be brewed pretty quickly." With a deep breath, the thirteen year old looked between them, "I... believe that you are getting me ready to become an Animagus."

After a few moments, both teachers smiled, though Snape only had a slight upwards curl of his lips different from the usual sneer. Nodding, McGonagall stood up and chuckled, "Yes, you are quite correct, Mister Potter." She opened her desk and pulled out three books that she placed in front of him, with another being pulled out from Snape's robes and placed on top, "Normally, I would not teach such a subject... however, while you have not shown the prodigious skills of your father in Transgfiguration-"

Snape spoke up then, "Or quite that of your Mother in potions, though adequate."

Giving him a look, Minerva continued, "You have shown both that you are willing to work hard, listen when we explain things, and a certain... maturity, let us just say. Such enough that we only hesitate to give you these." Eyes narrowing, she gave him a look, "Do not mistake me, Mister Potter. If I even catch a hint of you attempting anything in these books without supervision, your Mother, Miss Nagato, shall be the least of your worries. "

From where he stood, the Potions Professor nodded, "Indeed. Nonetheless, study these hard while you are back home. We shall go over them slowly for our lessons until the end of the school year. Perhaps, if we are lucky, we shall be able to attempt the transformation soon. Also, do not leave them laying around as they belong to the Forbidden Section of the Library."

All Harry did was nod as he felt the weight of the responsibility on him, "Thank you, Professors. And I promise to uphold the rules that you have given me." A small tear came to his eye as he placed a hand on the books, "Ever since I found out my Father was an Animagus and my Birth Mother was... I've always wondered and wanted..." Shaking his head, Harry just bowed, "Thank you."

Both teachers nodded back at him and gave him a few more rules and such before he placed his books into an expandable bag. And with one final more thanks, said goodbye and left. Hoppou almost immediately scrambled up his back to his shoulders and both her and Natsumi attempted to worm what happened out...

To no avail.

 

[darthcourt10]

NotHimAgain

Been having some trouble getting into Tonbo's head. Maybe this time I'll have something by tonight. In the meantime, here's the Twin Princesses' fleet!
-----

"So… you can cook stuff now? Like make food out of other food?"

Nemo sighed good-naturedly, and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Neko, I can do that—but… it's mainly just desserts. Like cakes and pies and cookies, not really anything substantial—"

"Ooh, you can make pie?" Neko jumped around in front of her. "Pie sounds good. Can you make a pie?"

Thoughtfully crossing her arms, Nemo gave her sister a scrutinizing glance. While Neko didn't have the puffer fish obsession that Riri did, she still liked food quite a bit—especially when the food was different in whatever way from the usual fare.

"Yeah, I think I can," she said. She'd have to borrow Tachibana's kitchen again… or maybe (she only flushed a little at the thought) Takumi's. Hmm… cooking with Takumi… that would be nice. "What flavor would you like?"

"Pie flavor!"

What?

"What?" Nemo stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the cave's mouth. "What does that mean?"

Neko shrugged. "Well, I just thought that I could start with the basic stuff, you know?"

"There's no such thing as a pie-flavored pie," Nemo explained. "That would just be like the crust!" Neko froze mid-step in the cave mouth.

"Uh," she replied. "Well, in that case, can I think about it?"

Shaking her head, Nemo turned away in exasperation. "If you have to," she said.

"Okay, just give me a list of flavors and I—oh, hey Mother!"

The Black Princess looked up from her spot on the cave floor in the shade. She nodded quietly, and looked back over at the egg she rested beside.

"How's it doing?" Nemo asked, walking over to examine it herself.

"Well." The Princess's voice was low, but amplified by the cave's echo. "She'll hatch soon."

Warmth built up in Nemo's chest, and she smiled. "Awesome," she whispered, raising a hand and reaching out towards the egg. "I can't wait to meet her."

The fleet was relatively small, compared to others that Nemo had heard about. Part of this was due to the Black Princess's reluctance to add to their numbers and the White Princess—though she tended to take the final vote for herself in most matters—acquiescing the issue to her. Once, Nemo had thought that it was some sort of disdain, and the Black Princess just didn't want to deal with the hassle of a larger fleet. Now, she wondered if it was fear of some kind, rooted in the corpses she had to dig through that day.

Whatever the case, no one had expected the new egg.

No one minded, though.

In fact, they were all thrilled to greet their new little sister.

As Neko began to greet the egg, talking in excited undertones, Nemo simply brushed her fingertips over its surface. The Princesses said that this one was different, an Abyssal without any combat capability. A child born without the need for battle.

What would Takumi think of her, she wondered.
-----

Mmm, not my best work (especially the shout out), but there you go!

Well what do you think, sirs?

 

[darthcourt10]

Yellowhammer

Dove at a Dinner Party: Part The Fifth

A Comedy of Ill-Manners, Shocking French 'Customs', and a Fire in the Rubbish Skip

Passel House

Saturday, May 13th, 1899
Spoiler: Lady Chastity's First Adventure

"...and then the Kali cultists who had kidnapped Princess Kundalini from her wedding ceremony tried to board us from their boat as the river's current picked up."

Lyra's eyes sparkled as she jotted down notes frantically. "So...what happened then?"

Colombe smirked and spoke reminiscently, "I skewered the first one and caught the second with a blasting spell that knocked him over the rail and broke the boats apart. The third came up behind me then and started to throttle me to death with his rumāl. It's the handkerchief they use with a coin knotted in the corner. Nasty thing." The smirk widened, "Unfortunately for him, the Rani of Rajputana had a few thorns, since she broke the oar over his head and stunned him."

Lyra licked her lips, "Good for her, so she did him in then?"

A blonde invisible chambermaid spirit listened avidly, wringing her hands in her apron.

"Actually not. He backhanded her after he shook the oar off while I caught my breath and pulled the dagger from my boot. Knocked her sprawling as I got up. My sword was wedged in his brother in the bottom of our boat, so we got into a fistfight. I got in a few nice cuts before he grabbed me by the throat with one hand and got a grip on my knife hand with the other as he bent me over the rail."

The visible and invisible audience leaned forward eagerly. "So I grabbed him by Master John Goodfellow and squeezed. Hard. Take it from me, if you ever want to get a boy's attention, that will surely do it."

A thump interrupted the telling as the spirit of Passel House knocked a book off the table on the way to the library floor as she fainted with her face in a nuclear blush.

Lyra shrugged, "Must have been a wind gust. Anyway, what then?"

"I used my hand on his organs of generation to lever him over the side... helped when the boat hit the first waves in the rapids we were entering. He couldn't swim." Colombe laughed. "So I helped Her Highness up and she started screaming 'Jharana! Jharana!' I turned in the direction that she was pointing and suddenly realized that is waterfall in Hindi."

Lyra gasped. "How terrible!"

Colombe shrugged. "Mixed blessing. We lost the boat when we went over the falls, but thanks to casting the Bubble-Head Charm on us both we didn't drown and we even found a cave behind the falls which I dragged her into. The best news was that after I lit the fire to dry us off and took off my wet clothes I found the real reason that she hired me to return her to her home kingdom and not to the man she was supposed to wed."

Lyra purred. "Go on~~"

Colombe's smirk got wider and more perverse, soon mirrored by Lyra. "She lusted after her own sex and couldn't stand for a man to touch her. A complete and utter Sapphist."

"Oh please do tell all the details, Colombe~!" Lyra flipped to a fresh page in her notebook.

Victoria Passel twitched.

------------------------------

A polite cough at the door interrupted the stream of stories. "Miss du Chasteler, Mrs. Potter, dinner shall be served shortly if you wish to freshen up."

Colombe stood. "After dinner I promised to play the piano for the social gathering, will I see you there, Lyra?"

Lyra smiled, "Most certainly Colombe, and let me be the first to offer you an invitation to our hospitality at the Potter Estate!"

As the 'ladies' made their way out of the library, Victoria gathered the tattered remains of her dignity and made her way to the kitchens. She could not wait for that...! that...! that Frenchwoman!! to be another residence's problem!

------------------------------
Spoiler: A Muramasa Dinner Party

Colombe curtsied to the late-20s young man who offered his elbow to escort her into dinner. "Enchanté, Mister Corvus Lestrange."
Spoiler: Corvus Lestrange

His blue eyes sparkled at her beauty. "Miss du Chasteler. My condolences for your recent bereavement."

She bit her lip as he pulled her chair out for her at the dinner table. "I had heard many good things about your cousin Hippolye du Chasteler."

Her voice was cool and controlled with a well-hidden edge in it. "I am sure that you had, Mister Lestrange."

He seated himself at her left elbow as Lyra entered on Ian Potter's arm and gave her a smile. "Oh, he was a good friend, alas. Do you know that he helped me with some minor business investments before that criminal element assaulted him. Simply a beastly crime!"

Lyra paled at the glitter deep in Colombe's eyes as the rapier leaned in and gave the Lestrange heir a very hungry look. "You don't say."

Ian caught his wife's unease as they sat across from Colombe and Corvus. "What's wrong, dear?" He whispered in Lyra's ear.

Lyra gave a fractional nod directed at the couple across from them and whispered back from the corner of her mouth. "Trouble, Ian, big trouble...."

-----------------------------------

As the soup was brought out, Colombe stiffened as she felt a hand on her left thigh under the tablecloth. A quick glance revealed that the hand was Corvus' and her face flushed. Silently she fought with herself to call him on his behavior.

Corvus leaned in. "Hippolyte mentioned that you were quite the beauty when we spoke in Brussels a year ago. His description pales compared to the reality."

Colombe cast around for a change of subject to avoid making a scene before she could get him alone to be interrogated. Fortunately one was arranged.

"Mister Lestrange, it is good to see you again!" Lyra interjected. "I regret that I was unable to thank you for showing that young lady the Orangery, can you tell me about her?"

His hand released Colombe's leg as the soup tureen approached them. "What is to say? She was Esther Schulman, the younger daughter of a merchant in the nearby village paying a social call on her betters. Reasonably well spoken for a muggle and not one of the gentry such as us."

Across from him, Lyra smothered a scowl.

"Soup Miss Du Chasteler?"

"No. Thank. You. Mister. Lestrange." Colombe's chilly voice could have turned the steaming soup tureen into a block of ice.

------------------------------------

"Oysters, Miss du Chasteler?"

"No. Thank. You. Mister. Lestrange."

------------------------------------

"Tongue of Beef, Miss du Chasteler?"

"No. Thank. You. Mister. Lestrange."

------------------------------------

"Potatoes and gravy, Miss du Chasteler?"

"No. Thank. You. Mister. Lestrange."

------------------------------------

"Surely some fresh-baked bread, Miss du Chasteler?"

"No. Thank. You. Mister. Lestrange."

------------------------------------

"Why it is Neapolitan Cake with strawberries and clotted creme! Surely someone so sweet as yourself would indulge, Miss du Chasteler?"

"No. Thank. You. Mister. Lestrange."

------------------------------------
Spoiler: An After-Dinner Aperatif

"My condolences for the loss of your beloved cousin impairing your appetite Miss du Chasteler. Hippolyte was a terrible tragedy."

Colombe's head slowly and mechanically swiveled to face him as the table continued their pleasant conversations. A ghostly chambermaid and a pair of Potters looked at her with the kind of stare normally reserved for witnessing head-on train collisions as they saw the rictus Death's-Head smile on her face.

"He. Was."

"Why, he told me about all the wonderful things that we are doing in civilizing the natives in Afric---"

Two hands slammed onto the table like a gunshot as Colombe shot to her feet and interrupted venomously at the top of her lungs as she pinned Corvus with an incandescent gaze. "Oh, and did he tell you about the barbarism, slavery, rapine, torture, murder, and Unforgivable Curses used by the managers of his stations to satiate their base lusts on the helpless souls there who have more in the way of Christian charity and goodness than ones such as you ever shall? Or did he invite you to participate in oppressing those 'not your station'!!"

Dead Silence.

Corvus slowly stood, his face flushed. "Take. That. Back. Why if you were not a member of the weaker sex I would demand satisfaction on the field of honor for such base slanders!"

Colombe glared at him. "And if you were anything approximating a gentleman as opposed to a low born lecherous swine I would challenge you to a duel of honor myself. If you understand the meaning of the concept, which I sorely doubt."

A slap punctuated her words.