Te Taua Moana

For the interests of organisation, kiwifleet is being archived and moved to @trenchcafe, as is my other KanColle blogs. I’m debating whether to change the name of Café’s blog to better fit the fact shipgirls from the RN, RFA, USN, RNZN, and RAN are joining her.

This blog will go inactive as everything will be moved to that one.

Fiume kept Georgios near her, sometimes letting the Greek go to step forward and greet an esteemed guest. Her sharp black dress being pinched at its sides to raise a little in a bow. She was a professional at this, her energy was still apparent but it wasn’t as unrefined and raw as when they were on their sortie. Still she wasn’t one to miss her date’s rather still form, often using such easily spot-table mannerisms and features to pick people who needed to chat.

“You look stiff Georgios, don’t worry its only a few more guests. Those ones there, the French delegates, then we can really have fun.” Fiume steered her partner with her for one more round of greetings, “Then it’ll be time to enjoy the high life of fun and entertainment, seems everyone is enjoying seeing the Princess and Prince roam though. They’d be unlucky if we left.”

“Apologies.” Georgios was stiff, for sure. All of this meeting and greeting was necessary for her continued operations, even if it split the flagship of the Hellenic Navy off from her own fleet’s path of isolation. Despite being used to Greek people’s awe for her, it was more of a conversational minefield here, unknown who was good to know or who to ignore. Fortunately it seemed Fiume was much more used to real politics. “You seem like you’re right at home in this situation.”

@mechanicaldaughter

New Zealand adjusted the flowers on her head. They were merely fakes, but she was proud of them, thinking they were cute. Truth be told, the other shipgirls in Scapa had made her a mite jealous with their fancy ‘uniforms’ that they seemed to be allowed to wear with nothing stopping them. Comparatively, her in her RNZN uniform was plain, utilitarian... military. So, knowing it could be changed, she did so with an altogether new “uniform” to fit the changes to her body that had come with the rebuild.

... Though truth be told, it left her rather cold in the places it mattered.

She was currently seated in Scapa’s pub, a can of ‘lolly water’ in front of her. Despite the rebuild, she had learned on New Year’s that her alcohol tolerance was still quite low. The door opened and light came in, and as she looked up she recognised the new person, as well as the exquisite dress she wore. New Zealand saw a chance to re-unite, in a fashion, having already “spoken” to the woman some time ago.

“Asking me? Your’re the one straightening that tie for the hundredth time. Come on,it’ll be fun.” Fiume moved to the Greek’s side and linked her arm with hers, tugging her to Fiume’s side. “First up, we gotta go meet some fancy people, and you’re officially my date now. Especially with that striking suit and good gaze. Really fits nicely, perfect.”

“Just stick side by side with me, okay?” Fiume started forward, greeting guests already the moment they got one step inside. Fancy dressed Europeans of all types, people from Turkey and even some western guests along with a lot of  easily Italian shady types. Yet through it all Fiume seemed perfectly at home in her element, introducing the Greek to people as her date for the night and letting her greet them. Like she said, she’d be relying on Fiume, and Fiume was taking the lead.

Georgios nodded at Fiume’s statement, unable to stop herself from giving an appraising eye to the clothing her ‘date’ wore. Yes, despite her misgivings, the two shipgirls would look the part. Now it only came to the motions of the aristocratic elite. Georgios did not try to go on her own, unwilling to leave Fiume, but greeted each person that came to speak to them. Even a few Turks, the enemy she was famed to have fought; who were understandably apprehensive when they learned they were speaking to the ‘Devil Ship.’ She greeted them as warmly as she could, speaking to them in Turkish.

“Don’t worry. We are allies now, are we not?”

Georgios looked into the mirror again, adjusting her tie for what felt like the thirtieth time. While she was used to galas, it didn’t mean she was a large fan of them. Normally she went in a form of dress, but today she had a suit and tie. Her entire reason for attending was to gain a search radar from the Italians, something she did not have due to Greek interference with any lend-lease. She had not asked permission to attend this, the Greeks were still afraid of mingling any Greek shipgirl with an Italian one, wary of any resurgence of hard feelings. The Italian cruiser bringing her along, Fiume, was nearby, and Georgios had not looked over at her yet. 

The Greek armoured cruiser cleaned her glasses one last time, opening them back up by gripping one of the arms with her teeth. Though her first two words were in Greek, the rest were rapid-fire Italian. 

“Yiasou, filos. Are you ready? This is your game, I’ll be largely dependent on you.”

She had been standing with a handful of papers with her brow furrowed. It had been with relief she had greeted the completion of the refit she had been hearing so much about.

It honestly defied explanation. To take an out of date battlecruiser and spend vast amounts to turn them into something that would battle to take on a good heavy cruiser.

Back in her day they were all about refitting the ones who would turn out the best. Nelson, Warspite, even the Renowns were still carrying considerable firepower…

No, this move was political.

And politics was a blight on the navy, always had been.

And then politics found her and the paper in her hands crumpled.

“New Zealand, congratulations on completing your post-refit trials. I hope the new turrets don’t make you too top-heavy.” she said with a level tone, sticking to business. She offered her hand.

“I was just looking at the results of your trials, actually. You must be eager to return home.”

New Zealand shook the proffered hand, wondering why Malaya had crumpled the paper, but didn’t ask for an answer. She rubbed a shoulder, giving a small sigh.

“A bit. Scapa’s noice’fah the ships heah, but Oi’ve got a fleet’ta return to. Can’t shirk me duties’ta the girls. The politicians beck home were reluctant’ta release me in the first place, and are keen on bringing me home as soon as they can get an RNZAF plane out.”

New Zealand’s rebuild had been completed just a few days ago. She was still getting used to her larger body - taller, ‘bigger’, more beautiful in the eyes of some, - certainly a fair sight more mature looking than the highschool-age she had been just a few days ago.

She was searching for a certain battleship. New Zealand had a gift for her — much like the jade tiki hanging around her own neck, NZ had brought a dozen or so good luck pendants for other shipgirls. It was surprisingly hard to find Malaya, and the battlecruiser spent a good half hour searching, but eventually found the woman. New Zealand approached with a smile on her face, the tiki necklace in a small box, wrapped with a cute little bowtie to top it off. For now, it remained hidden away. 

“Kia Ora, mate. Youse Malaya, corrict? Oi don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Oi’m New Zealand. D’ye fancy a cuppa?”

“Pō mārie.”

Eight hours later

“Kia Or--”