#sofie roux

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. 

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 Zealand’s 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 ‘Torpedoman’ 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. 

“Do you think she’s gonna be able to do it today?” 

A snicker. “Pfft, naaaaah. It’s been a nightmare for her to get down the basics! No way she can pull this off yet.” 

“You really shouldn’t be talking about her like this. It’s not like she’s a natural shipgirl, like all of us. She was gifted the...uh...mantle, I think she described it.”

“Why does it matter where she came from? If she’s not any good, she’s dead weight and it’s better to cut her than pull us all down,” another scoffs. 

“We should give her the benefit of the doubt; we need all forces capable, and unlike me, who was born of an unfinished dream, she is manifested from a ship that has long faced combat in theaters we can’t imagine.” 

“None of that matters if she can’t fight!” 

“Hey, hey, hey! All of this was ‘sposed to be in good fun, now stop raining on it! Geez...make everything serious, why don’tcha?”  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Spirit did her best to ignore the peanut gallery on the docks. Here she stood, in fully armored rigging, with Serina’s fairy whispering in her ear about the current trial to come. It was a training exercise the ‘allied’ Supply Depot HIme had set up on recommendation of the transitory island’s commanding officer-something simple 

Or, at least, it would be simple for any other shipgirl. For Spirit, or Sofie Roux, it was hell. 

As the others had been discussing, she wasn’t a natural shipgirl. She had taken the mantle up from a now-retired vessel that had come from a time and place far beyond their current era, to assist the world in its fight against the abyssal fleets. Despite all the power she had been granted, she had little idea on how to use it, with her attempts so far at surfing the waves or even attempting to fly being catastrophic failures. 

The fairy floating next to her uncovered ear was discussing how to paint targets with the heavy pistol she carried as her personal arm, using a small ranging laser attached to its frame. It was slaved to the Archer missile pods’ targeting systems, which were the subject of the exercises for the next few days.  Sofie wasn’t going to give up so easily, however, even with the stinging words from some of her cohorts at this small remedial training facility. Raising up the pistol, a firearm she at least had some training with for self-protection, she took aim at the target buoys set to float in the harbor. 

Add Salem. Add Seydlitz. Add this training base’s commanding officer. 

Add MCRN Grom. 

Start little shorts which go into what goes on around this dinky harbor in the Pacific. 

Bully Spirit-

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!” 

I mean, you’re a shipgirl. Who wasn’t a shipgirl. Who is now in command of a colony ship-turned-assault carrier rigging system. 

“And?!” 

Well, do you know how to use any of it? 

“Uh...n...no...not yet! B-but Serina’s been teaching me!”

You know what comes next.