It had been a while since she had last stepped on Aucklandâs shores, long after she had visited Spirit of Fire and Trench Cafe for one last meeting before they retired from service. In the meantime, something strange had happened to her, and she had spent the time between wrestling what it meant for as a normal person. It threw her understanding of ship-girls (or people, as it would seem that ship-guys existed too) for a loop, and what it could potentially mean for those that had retired but whose riggings had yet to be broken down.
Today, she was dressed for the balmy weather-blue capris with cargo pockets down the sides, a pair of hiking shoes that looked well-worn, and a scarlet shirt with a cream-colored cut at the collar. Sofie breathed in the salty air, and relished the bit of freedom she had from the uniform that had become somewhat normal to her whenever she donned the rigging she was gifted.Â
The redheaded journalist(or is it former journalist? Could she still perform her passion while serving?) stood near the rebuilt docks, looking out across the bay. Sofie had sent a letter(old-fashioned letter too!) addressed to a particular submarine, USS Sealion, in hopes of meeting him again. He was one of the quickest responses for New Zealandâs call for assistance, and she had seen him briefly while doing her own part as a volunteer for recovery efforts. Always interested in the new warriors of humanity against the eldritch adversary from beyond, she wanted to get a chance to chat with him and a brief, casual interview, but due to the sheer workload of both seeking out the Abyssal fleet which had led the assault and providing disaster relief for Auckland, Sofie never managed to make the opportunity happen.
Now, with Auckland somewhat settled and the Abyssal fleet responsible being hounded to the ends of the Earth by other allied fleets, she hoped that her letter had reached him during his downtime so she could finally meet who she considered the famous âTorpedomanâ of the undersea fleets. The first place Sofie thought of looking was the docks, maybe to catch him early in the morning before he went off about his day, or perhaps as he made his way back from his latest assignment.Â
Hope was strong, but in her line of work, Sofie knew that circumstances were rarely favorable for what she wanted to cover.











