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/qst/ - Mitsuba Archive


>Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=beyond+that+blue
>Discord: https://discord.gg/D2QGKxBd87

>‘If I know my history, you can’t exactly call the church impractical in regards to what they revise and recognize. Things were probably the same even five hundred, a thousand years ago.’

Well, he’s not quite so wrong there.’

Formidable’s haughty half-smirk almost has you throwing a smug look of your own, the temptation barely held back by the fact that you didn’t want to over-play your hand regarding just how much of a true addict to history and politics that you were without coming off as an insufferable know-it-all over an understanding and knowledgeable point of reference. You revel in the silent satisfaction of her agreement, glancing along the table to gauge the reactions of the others. Bismarck’s brow wrinkles at your summation of the Papacy, but otherwise keeps her own silence. Belfast, by comparison wears a more animated, if still reserved look, the corners of her lips visibly twitching as her eyes dance in a direct counter to her attempts at communicating her fatigue and exasperation at your remark.

It’s difficult to keep your smirk down.

‘I still don’t get how all that doubles back to you not being able to hop along and enjoy yourself on your own time, though, Captain,’ you go on, placing your elbows on the edge of the table but keeping your mode of address as level as possible as you could, unwilling to venture into territory that would otherwise undo all the rapport that you’d built in the last hour. ‘Feel’s a little over-elaborate, if you don’t mind me saying, ma’am.’

Bismarck’s brow wrinkles further as she leans forward, fully removing her glasses from the tip of her nose. ‘All of that talk and you still don’t understand?’

You’re not sure if she meant to offend you … but you decide to remain calm, even if it did mean playing the fool for a little bit more.

‘No, I … I don’t, Captain,’ you reiterate, shaking your head and half-waving your set hands to emphasize your position. ‘You’ll have to forgive me, but … world history, Azur Lane, the Church … you’ll have to make it a little bit more obvious, sorry.’

The last few hundred years of humanity’s exposure to magic and its misuse has been reopened in regards to our … role as entities that, in the eyes of some, have over-stayed our welcome,’ Bismarck reveals, maintaining her calculative, reserved expression, ‘an opinion that is, as of the present … one of several points of contention. The Renaissance of Conjunctions, The High Chair of Albionhistory has made us as the contemporary equivalent of a looming crisis on the level of the Unsealed.’

‘It’s a very large microscope, if nothing else,’ Formidable muses, darkly and humorlessly.

Do you understand now?
>>
>>4919710
>'How does this relate to you not being able to go on a personal holiday again? I ... don't get it.' (Clueless)
>'That's a microscope, all right.' (Sympathize)
>'The Unsealed? Impossible. You're not really ... the same, I think. Different principles and all that.' (Draw comparisons in the most equivalent aspects)
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)
>'Well, it's not without precedent, yeah.' (Scrutinize)
>Nod in understanding, keep your silence
>Shrug, dismiss it in silence
>Write-In
>>
>>4919718
>>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)
>>
>>4919718
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)
>>
>>4919718
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)
>>
>>4919718


>That sounds like an awfully cynical way to look at a friend just because she happens to be capable of levelling a city by shelling.
>Is it really that bad to not allow you some personal holiday? Is it a formal limitation imposed on you, or is it you being considerate to not step on toes?

new quest: get bisko a licence to open carry herself to a vacation
>>
>>4919718
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)
>>
>>4920112
supporting
>>
Running in about 30-45 minutes. Please be here.
>>
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)

The three of them actually looked … amused.

You’re barely a year into the phasing stage of a career that’s in as uncertain a stage as anything,’ Formidable replies, not unkindly, but not with the consideration of regard, either. ‘You hardly qualify to judge these sort of things from your position. Taking such small spans of exposure as primers for the future is naive, at best. Optimistic and not at all unwelcome … but unfitting in the ultimate context of just what both of us, at the end of the day, are. Or, rather, where you think you stand and what we know about ourselves. You can’t just say those sort of things without due consideration, cadet. It’s what the recruitment department precisely means to screen out.’

You find Formidable’s statement condescending, regardless.

‘I don’t think that I’m wrong to consider you more than just something that was made for a purpose and just cast to the way-side … or even leverage. If it was up to me, I’d just leave you to do whatever that’s left to be done, not fight over what you should be doing. And to add on to that—to add on to that—even if the bureaucrats and the paperwork’s pushing you around—however it pushes you around—I don’t think that it’s something that you should be defining yourself by beyond the military machine.’

Rubbing the back of your neck, you wonder, briefly, staring at the table-top, if you’d stepped truly out of line by virtue of responding at all. The instant of that consideration, however, passes, as you decide that if you were already over the ledge at this point, you might as well do a flip crashing into the crags below. You lift your gaze, throwing and uncertain look all along the table, as the three women appear to give you whatever pause you required to gather your thoughts.

It is a chance that you take like a dagger down a throat, lathered with syrup.

‘You have worth, you know? And it’s not just because you can rip through the Albion cliffs at seventy-five percent imbalance purging. I assure you: whatever the … politicians and the committees say … don’t define yourself by them, Instructor … Captain; Lieutenant.

You lean back, having said your piece. Whatever they said back, whatever punishment awaited you, you would—

‘That is the most obvious pick-up line that I’ve heard since gaining awareness,’ Belfast muses, tenting her hands and chuckling.

‘He would not be of vigor if he did not at least try, of course,’ Bismarck concurs, giggling behind a half-closed hand.
>>
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>>4920765
>'I'm sorry, but regardless of anything and everything that you represent, none of you are my type.' (Flat)
>'I actually want to bring home a girl that won't send my grandparents into convulsions, thank you.' (Reject)
>'You can take it how you want to, ma'am.' (Indifferent)
>'We are in esteemed company. It would be insulting to not at least make the attempt at flattery.' (Playful; focus on Bismarck)
>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)
>'I need to go for a bit. Men's room.' (Leave for a while)
>'Be serious for a moment.' (Irritated)
>Write-In
>>
>>4920771
>>'We are in esteemed company. It would be insulting to not at least make the attempt at flattery.' (Playful; focus on Bismarck)
>>
>>4920771
Come on, give me some credit. I mean it. I mean, it’s not like you being the lovely visages of heroism and nobility didn’t color my judgment here but the very fact of us sitting here and making conversation is proof enough that you’re people that also happen to be living weapons rather than the other way around!
>>
>>4920771
>>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)
>>
>>4920771
>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)
>>
>>4920771
>>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)
>>
I'm around. Hands up if you are, too.
>>
>>4921903
heyo
>>
>>4921903
yo buddy
>>
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>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)

‘You’re not operating without reason on that side, I suppose,’ Belfast responds, leaning forward with her eyes barely visible past the rim of her hat, but with enough of an amused glint to make it apparent that she’d—at the very least—made an attempt at being thoughtful about it. ‘It’d be a lie for either of us to say that you weren’t … amicable enough to approach without having it feel like it was all tacked on.’

You feel your cheeks heat up, Belfast’s praise had caught you off-guard.

Formidable doesn’t quite snort derisively at Belfast’s words, but there is a reluctant aura about her as you turn your gaze to find her resting her cheek on her open palm, one elbow on the table and lips carved into what could be taken as either scowl or smirk. ‘It’d be stupid to draw that the only qualities that would allow for our approach to be concluded as far as you merely being nice, of course.’

‘I’d like to think that it does … or, you know, thank you for saying that much, at least,’ you respond, almost reflexively. You couldn’t bare to think that the only reason that someone—Shipgirl or human—would approach and share in a friendship with you on the shallow basis that you just happened to be nice. You’d like to at least be deluded with the belief that you offered a little bit more than that, even in the most neurotic of episodes. There had to be some sense of self-worth in this body of yours.

I find it hard to believe that none of you are bridged with one another,’ Bismarck observes, glancing along the table as you had. ‘You’re more amicable than some squadrons I’ve seen operate.’

‘It’s probably because I’ve been such a failure so far that we’ve actually been able to get along at all, Captain,’ you reply, snorting in amusement. ‘Instructor Formidable and Instructor Long Island have been trying really hard to put me over the top, but … I don’t know, there must be something up here’—you tap the side of your head—‘that’s rimming it out instead. I think that there’s some kind of mental block preventing me from establishing a proper bridge with them.’

Bismarck’s eyes go wide, as though she had come to a startling realization.

‘Wait, you’re both his psyco baseline?

Belfast’s lips curl up into a smile that’s almost embarrassed, hanging her head in … well, embarrassment.

‘We’re making an effort towards it, at least.’

The Captain regards you, wary and incredulous. ‘You do realize just how … reckless this is? You’re … you’re still a cadet … and you two …’
>>
>>4921979
>‘The trials are made at the discretion of the cadet and the permission of the Shipgirls involved. The risks are mine to bear.’
>‘Yeah, I … maybe I’m going over my head a little.’
>‘What?’
>Write-In
>>
>>4921979
>To this day I am still thankful for the two of them for taking a chance with me even if I'm still not able to break through that block to form a stable bridge with either of them
>>
>>4921981
>Grandma always told me that the best way to keep going is to look up at the stars, and pursue.

also this >>4921986
>>
>>4921992
also going for this
>>
>>4921986
Supporting this
>>
>>4921992
>>4921986
supporting and combining
>>
>>4921986
>>4921992
Supporting the combo.
>>
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>To this day I am still thankful for the two of them for taking a chance with me even if I'm still not able to break through that block to form a stable bridge with either of them
>Grandma always told me that the best way to keep going is to look up at the stars, and pursue.

Bismarck closes her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest, her chair creaking with a slight to push away from the table, a begrudging snort escaping her. ‘Commendable, but utterly irresponsible on all your parts,’ she remarks, unwilling to let go of the last word. ‘Aspirations are … admirable, but on practical terms, you must at least be aware of your own value to the coalition. To borrow more immediate comparisons, it’s an utter waste of potential and resources to push a tier that has not been achievable in the last five years on a neophyte in the hope that he’d break through. We aren’t even comparing the dangers of SSR-level stream control. The last thing any of us should be risking is turning another prospect into a vegetable by encouraging his ego.

You’re actually offended.

‘That’s not to say that I mean any offense, of course,’ Bismarck almost stammers, cutting you off before you could shovel more fuel onto your ticking ire. ‘The assets involved, the risks at hand … I just believe it’s inefficiency built on conjecture rather than calculation. The factors involved don’t spell favorable outcomes and attentions that could be spared elsewhere become ultimately gambled on … well, odds at their purest. From the perspective of military, long shots aren’t ones we’re accustomed to taking … nor should the years of active duty incline us to forget such lessons.’

Belfast’s smile turns icy as Formidable’s gaze turns up the temperature, the both of them locking on to Bismarck’s resolute, disciplined stare.

‘However,’ she continues, ‘I also recognize that my opinion regarding the judgment of those outside my immediate resolution should remain so in respect to our—to the agreements that have thus far been drawn. Reckless as it is.

‘Captain,’ you interject, your voice as calm and matter-of-fact as you can manage, ‘I understand where you’re coming from … and I’d probably stop short of endorsing myself, too, but … regardless of the bare minimum I can squeeze out of myself, it’d be a disservice to Azur Lane to not at least make the effort to try. I’m not unaware of just what my decision implicates in relation to my record, Captain, though, I owe it to the ones that believed in me enough to give me that chance to, well … give it my all in return.’

‘It’s a perilous road you take for yourself,’ Bismarck imparts. ‘I don’t think I need to state the degree of danger that you’re putting yourself in for the sake of rank and file.’
>>
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>To this day I am still thankful for the two of them for taking a chance with me even if I'm still not able to break through that block to form a stable bridge with either of them
>Grandma always told me that the best way to keep going is to look up at the stars, and pursue.

Bismarck closes her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest, her chair creaking with a slight to push away from the table, a begrudging snort escaping her. ‘Commendable, but utterly irresponsible on all your parts,’ she remarks, unwilling to let go of the last word. ‘Aspirations are … admirable, but on practical terms, you must at least be aware of your own value to the coalition. To borrow more immediate comparisons, it’s an utter waste of potential and resources to push a tier that has not been achievable in the last five years on a neophyte in the hope that he’d break through. We aren’t even comparing the dangers of SSR-level stream control. The last thing any of us should be risking is turning another prospect into a vegetable by encouraging his ego.

You’re actually offended.

‘That’s not to say that I mean any offense, of course,’ Bismarck almost stammers, cutting you off before you could shovel more fuel onto your ticking ire. ‘The assets involved, the risks at hand … I just believe it’s inefficiency built on conjecture rather than calculation. The factors involved don’t spell favorable outcomes and attentions that could be spared elsewhere become ultimately gambled on … well, odds at their purest. From the perspective of military, long shots aren’t ones we’re accustomed to taking … nor should the years of active duty incline us to forget such lessons.’

Belfast’s smile turns icy as Formidable’s gaze turns up the temperature, the both of them locking on to Bismarck’s resolute, disciplined stare.

‘However,’ she continues, ‘I also recognize that my opinion regarding the judgment of those outside my immediate resolution should remain so in respect to our—to the agreements that have thus far been drawn. Reckless as it is.

‘Captain,’ you interject, your voice as calm and matter-of-fact as you can manage, ‘I understand where you’re coming from … and I’d probably stop short of endorsing myself, too, but … regardless of the bare minimum I can squeeze out of myself, it’d be a disservice to Azur Lane to not at least make the effort to try. I’m not unaware of just what my decision implicates in relation to my record, Captain, though, I owe it to the ones that believed in me enough to give me that chance to, well … give it my all in return.’

‘It’s a perilous road you take for yourself,’ Bismarck imparts. ‘It’s one I would not encourage.’
>>
>>4922426
>‘It’s also moored on a mutual agreement approved through official administrative channels, so your contest remains opinion, regardless.’ (Snipe)
>‘I get where you’re coming from, but the Instructor and the Lieutenant are … well, they’re their best too and if things don’t work out, it’s my reputation for the gators more than either of there’s, really. For anyone else, it’s just two Shipgirls picking up a hobby.’ (Indifferent)
>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)
>‘Understandable.’ (Nod)
>‘Excuse me, I need to find the little boy’s room.’ (Excuse yourself)
>Write-In
>>
>>4922429
>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)
>>
>>4922429
>‘Understandable.’ (Nod)
>>
>>4922426

>Thank you for your candour, Captain. It is as you say, especially if looked at from pragmatic point of view. But I'd like to think it's not just my ego talking, I think I'd be giving any potential I may have a disservice if I did not try and make good to fullest extent on the trust that has been put in me.

or as someone said back when the choice was being made, go big or go home.
>>
>>4922470
supporting
>>
>>4922429
>>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)
>>
Are we around, my friends?
>>
>>4923475
I am indeed now
>>
>>4923475
yo buddy still alive
>>
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>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)

Bismarck regards you with a flat, doubtful look, a wry smile carving itself from the corner of her lips.

No, not at all, I wouldn’t have approved any request from cadets looking to establish their first sustainable bridge baseline,’ she declares, waving her hand back and forth in emphasis to her position regarding the topic at hand. ‘Putting prospects in harms way in so deliberate a fashion would be impractical and a waste of resources. It’d be the equivalent of asking a leisurely rock-climber to attempt ascending The Split Peak. I believe any of us with sound rounds of judgment would tell you the same. The Rs and Cs are the only ones that should be considered for trials at all; it’s less risky that way … for all parties involved.’

>‘Yeah, I … guess. Now that I think about it, actual Commanders could probably use having the Lieutenant and the Instructor on-call more than me.’ (Concur)
>‘I’m not disagreeing with you, but considering just what the psyco profiles require … you can’t really just put a chasm between the classes. Commanders and Shipgirls might not even find their matches in such small sample sizes. It’s not like a college group project.’ (Reason)
>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)
>‘Is that how you picked your Commander out from the pile?’ (Snipe)
>Write-In
>>
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>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)

Bismarck regards you with a flat, doubtful look, a wry smile carving itself from the corner of her lips.

No, not at all, I wouldn’t have approved any request from cadets looking to establish their first sustainable bridge baseline,’ she declares, waving her hand back and forth in emphasis to her position regarding the topic at hand. ‘Putting prospects in harms way in so deliberate a fashion would be impractical and a waste of resources. It’d be the equivalent of asking a leisurely rock-climber to attempt ascending The Split Peak. I believe any of us with sound rounds of judgment would tell you the same. The Rs and Cs are the only ones that should be considered for trials at all; it’s less risky that way … for all parties involved.

>‘Yeah, I … guess. Now that I think about it, actual Commanders could probably use having the Lieutenant and the Instructor on-call more than me.’ (Concur)
>‘I’m not disagreeing with you, but considering just what the psyco profiles require … you can’t really just put a chasm between the classes. Commanders and Shipgirls might not even find their matches in such small sample sizes. It’s not like a college group project.’ (Reason)
>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)
>‘Is that how you picked your Commander out from the pile?’ (Snipe)
>Write-In
>>
>>4923824
>>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)
>>
>>4923824
>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)
>>
>>4923824
>>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)
>>
>>4923824
>It is a sensible position, pragmatic, practical. Nonetheless, the connection established goes past what is purely technical and if the potential is there, along with trust and hope, I’d be remiss to not do my utmost to deliver. The possibility in my view outweighs the risk. Besides, knowing our limits may be wise but it also makes it harder to push them. (Acknowledge but reiterate)
>>
>>4923824
>>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)
>>
>>4923824
>>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)
>>
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>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)

Bismarck harrumphs, her disapproval and acceptance made known by that one sound. She lifts her gaze up slightly, her furrowed brows briefly relaxing before eventually leveling out and allowing her to spare both Formidable and Belfast—who had adopted stoic, detached countenances between the both of them—a brief glance apiece.

‘Despite all the exchanges we’ve had over the years, I’d expected the both of you to at least handle this on less flighty terms … but considering just where you both have dug in in the past, I probably shouldn’t be surprised regarding just how many lines you’re willing to cross to get to your destination.’

She’s definitely addressing the Lieutenant and the Instructor with that.

The waitress comes over with your drinks.

>‘I’ll be back in a bit, sorry.’ (Leave the table and freshen up)
>‘Drinks are here.’ (Distract from the conversation)
>‘Come on, now, let’s not put the tropical sun and festivities into a meat freezer, huh?’ (Try to lower tensions)
>Gulp down your drink and silence and watch the conversation unfold
>‘Captain, I think that’s enough.’ (Stern)
>Write-In
>>
>>4924985
>>‘Come on, now, let’s not put the tropical sun and festivities into a meat freezer, huh?’ (Try to lower tensions)
>>
>>4924985
on one hand i wanna calm them down on the other hand tho i know better then to intervene between lionesses hue
>>
>>4924985
>Captain, I thought you came to enjoy the festivities and the tropical atmosphere, not drag up grievances between you, the LT and the Instructor. Can we at least keep things civil please ma'am?
>>
>>4925014
I'll support that.
>>
>>4924985

>Don't you think you're being a bit harsh, Captain? You speak sense, in pragmatic and conservative terms, but there is no shortage of cases where great things were achieved and boundaries challenged even in face of risk and danger. Still, I appreciate your concern for wellbeing of everyone involved and efficiency of the process.

also check the time, we don't want to be late for the parade, though I'd rather the girls parted on at least somewhat amicable terms
>>
>>4925014
Supporting
>>
>>4924985
>>‘Captain, I think that’s enough.’ (Stern)
>>
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>Captain, I thought you came to enjoy the festivities and the tropical atmosphere, not drag up grievances between you, the LT and the Instructor. Can we at least keep things civil please ma'am?

The cadet’s correct,’ Belfast chimes, wearing a smile that, while forced, exuded a diplomatic sort of patience to it. She lifts her goblet, doing a little toast with the empty air as her bright purple eyes lock with the Captain’s, gesturing towards the same calm that you’d attempted to steer towards not moments ago. ‘It’d be a shame to bring such baggage on a day that we’ve put out for the very purpose of avoiding it. Shall we agree to put the arguments on hold until the forms come through … Bismarck?

Bismarck … nods, lifting her coconut husk into the air, nudging it slightly towards Belfast in response. You let out a sigh of relief as your shoulder slump, glad that the table had been able to move past the topic without a leveled city block … not that you’d expected any of the three to lose control, of course. There was a reason that they’d been afforded rank and stature beyond the scope of mere tools … and having a thick skin when a tantrum could level a city block on a bad day was one of them. Formidable hums thoughtfully, placing both her elbows on the table and docking her chin into her cupped hands, her line of sight appearing to fixate beyond the top of Bismarck’s hat.

‘Speaking of … how long do we have until the parade and ceremony get underway?’

Not until the early afternoon, I think,’ you answer, glancing at your watch. ‘We still have plenty of time to do whatever any of you’d like to do, so … where next?

As long as we don’t lose track of time, I don’t have a care how we spend it,’ Belfast answers, her tone indifferent. ‘Where do we want to go first?’

That was a good question. Where did you want to go first?

You’d only experienced the festivities of the graduation parade once before … and most of your celebrating had been constrained to the main street and the beach promenade, watching the street performers and pigging out on exorbitant snacks and picking up a souvenir t-shirt and a—much to your embarrassment—a knock-off fanny pack featuring a crude drawing of a foursome of Royal Navy shipgirls front and center that you’d been hoodwinked by.

At least the carnival rides were fun.

>‘Let’s hear the Captain’s suggestion.’
>‘Instructor Formidable?’
>‘I usually just hang out with my friends whenever I hitch on a boat here. Your call, Lieutenant.’
>‘It’s not the carnival experience without getting your money ripped off from rigged games!’
>‘I actually want to pick up some souvenirs.’
>‘Main street, definitely.’
>‘Maybe we should check on how the parade’s coming up. I know there’s time, but …’
>Write-In
>>
>>4925517
>‘It’s not the carnival experience without getting your money ripped off from rigged games!’
>Lets see if we can find one with stupidly large super-deformed stuffed caricatures of the three of you.
>>
>>4925517
>‘Instructor Formidable?’
>>
>>4925517
>>4925523
shooting gallery for three plushies? hopefully there's no claw game around.
>>
>>4925517
>>‘Main street, definitely.’
>>
>>4925523
>>4925517
Support
>>
>‘It’s not the carnival experience without getting your money ripped off from rigged games!’

There were no protests to your suggestion. Drinks downed and shoulder-to-shoulder with the masses of tourists and locals, you maneuver around a reveler on stilts, juggling manjuu-shaped orbs the size of bowling balls to the awe of the passers-by (Bismarck included). The main street was huge, catching enough width for a group of tanks to roll through without a problem, now serving as the primary draw for those looking to trade in the beach-facing promenade for the gaggle of variety stalls that the vendors had set up in anticipation for the festivities. Wading through the shifting walls of humanity, though, you can’t help but pat yourself on the back in regards to how well you’d managed to disguise a trio of attention-grabbing women through the use of tacky, tourist-trap hodgepodge. No one spares any of them a second glance, allowing you to journey undeterred by the onslaught of adoring fans. Not that it made finding your way in this mess of a carnival that much easier, but you take what you can get.

‘What do you think? Looks great on me, right?’ one large man declares, stepping forward and spreading his arms wide, showing off what you presume to be a very recent acquisition to his bespectacled, mustachioed friend, who was licking away at a triple scooped ice cream cone.

‘Didn’t take you for a Honolulu fan.’

Honolulu? This is Zara!

You’d only experienced the festivities in the company of Abigail and Connor once before … but even then you could see just why the vendors pulled out all the stops to make bank. The wave of souvenir shirts, baggy shorts and wide hats—to say nothing of the clicking phone cameras and proper cameras that could be heard every five or so steps—was almost suffocating at times at the junction cross, situated at the end of the promenade and the bleed into the shopping avenues and arcades … which were also littered with endless blocks of stalls and street vendors peddling all sorts of Azur Lane-related—but not sanctioned—merchandise.

Come on, mom, just one more!’ you hear a child—some freckled, curly-haired child with a baseball cap turned backwards—beg his mother, leaning with all his weight to keep his mother from escaping.

‘We were supposed to meet with your grandfather half an hour ago! Now, come on!’

‘But it’s Yorktown! He’d understand!’

‘Can we at least go to the dunk tank? Belfast is there!’

You stop in your tracks.

Belfast?

The woman in question—disguised and not half a foot behind you—stops in her tracks, wearing a look of interest as your entourage comes to a halt.
>>
>>4926437
>'Shall we pay a visit?'
>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'
>'Belfast, huh?'
>Write-In*

*Encouraged
>>
>>4926438
>>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'
>>
>>4926438
>Shall we find out who is pretending to be you?
>>
>>4926438
>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'
>>
>>4926438
>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'
>>
>>4926437

>Let's check it out, Auntie, Belfast is awesome!
>>
we're still undercover guys, let's not bring attention to Bel's identity
>>
>>4926437
>Let's check it out, Auntie, Belfast is awesome!
>>
>>4926442
>>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'
>>
>>4926455
i am going with this
>>
>>4926455
>>4926503
>>4926524
I'm actually quite amused by this.

>>4926441
>>4926452
>>4926454
>>4926523
Do I have your permissions to proceed?
>>
>>4926607
Sure, I'm fine with it
>>
>Let's check it out, Auntie, Belfast is awesome!

Formidable covers her mouth, looking away. Bismarck coughs into a closed fist. You, however, manage to sport a ghost of a smirk … even with Belfast all up in your face, sporting a very dangerous smile and slit-narrowed eyes, somehow pinning you down and dragging you up in a showcase of strength. You can feel your knees buckling under the sheer force she exerts on you, her nose less than an inch away from yours.

‘Shall I schedule a professional psychological reevaluation of your state of mind, cadet? It concerns me that you’re so prone to such suicidal tendencies.’

Her smile remains.

So does her grip around your shirt.

>Write-In
>>
>>4926631

>If you think it will help, but can we please shelve discussions of my mental health until after we've seen the marvelous miss Belfast? We can continue the LARP right after.

Cutefast.
>>
>>4926649
im with this
>>
>>4926649
Also supporting
>>
>>4926649
supporting
>>
>>4926649
supporting
>>
File: Joking about Belfast.jpg (195 KB, 850x1202)
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195 KB .jpg
>If you think it will help, but can we please shelve discussions of my mental health until after we've seen the marvelous miss Belfast? We can continue the LARP right after.

Her lips don’t even twitch. ‘Just what do you take me for, young man?’

You move to comment further that her mode of address didn’t lend her any favors in regards to external perceptions of her … maturity, but wisely decide to quit while you were ahead, lest you risk turning half the attendees at the junction into cases of collateral damage. Belfast seems to contemplate slamming your head into the concrete for a moment, before it is finally interrupted by the calm intervention of two diplomatic hands upon her shoulder and yours, belonging to one comically-bespectacled and very amused-looking Bismarck.

‘Come on, now,’ Bismarck speaks up, prompting the loosening of Belfast’s grip around your shirt … although she doesn’t quite release you from it enough for you to put your weight back onto your feet again. ‘Your skin can’t be that thin, Lieutenant.’

Bismarck’s roundabout mark has Belfast releasing your shirt and allowing you to step away, dusting imaginary dirt off yourself, her little spectacle having drawn surprisingly no ounce of attention, proving that the tacky mix of clothes had, at least thus far, proven their fair worth. You adjust the rucksack over your shoulders, throwing Bismarck a thankful look … that she returns with a gaze and creased brow that showcased a warning to not prompt further ire from the Lieutenant and just how much of a fool you were to tack on that joke without regard to Belfast’s sensitivities in that sector.

In your defense, however, you found it too tempting to not make a comment on it.

‘I think we’ve found our next point of interest, then,’ Formidable remarks flippantly, rotating her upright wrist for emphasis, her teeth bared and showing her amusement as she lowers her comically garish sunglasses with her free hands. ‘Shall we make a move and catch the show, Auntie?

You and Bismarck really have to hold Belfast back, then.

Although you’re quite sure that you spent at least twenty seconds of that flailing about as Bismarck tried to soothe the tantrum-throwing Lieutenant (While, predictably, Formidable watches the results of her handiwork with a great big smirk). It’s what you get trying to pit human strength against a being capable leveling a whole city by herself.

In any case, more soothing works from Bismarck and an extremely insincere apology from Formidable later, the four of you find yourselves on your way again, wading through the colorful crowd and nursing your ears from the loudspeaker-enhanced street jockeys vying for victims … of which there were many. It’s not long, however, before you arrive just where you absolutely mean to.

The queue is long and the onlookers are loud and plentiful.
>>
A woman lies on her side, sporting silver hair and bright red lipstick upon her attractive features, clad in a tassel-adorned bikini with curtains of decorations placed along the rim of their bright silver design, throwing coy finger wiggles towards her onlookers. She lays upon a trap door, smiling and blowing kisses in an effort to rile up the crowd, the maid’s headdress and the frills on her bikini straps telling you just who she’s meant to be.

She’d probably pass the eye-test from twenty feet or more. The queue is long, but you find yourself practically shoulder-to-shoulder with the tourists just trying to get a good look of the source of the hubbub.

Twenty bucks for three shots? Really?’

‘It’s for charity, man.’

You look up to see the sign, right above the cartoon picture of what you assume to be the Lieutenant.

The Northern Lights’ Children’s Cancer Foundation: Sink The Belfast!

You’re not sure if the title was in good taste, but your eyes wander to the dunking mechanism, which wasn’t a mere static target, but a rotating mark of seven separate targets, five of which are marked with a smaller, yet visually identical copy, of the cartoon head that floated above the attraction’s sign.

‘It’s twenty bucks, though!’

‘Look at it this way: if you hit one, you get a picture for the fridge with a cute girland if you hit two out of three you get a kiss and a picture. That’s more action than what you’d be getting on a Friday night.’

‘Yeah, if I hit it at all.’

It’s a children’s cancer charity, you tightwad.

You move away from the conversation, unwilling to hear anymore, finding your companions with three and a half easy steps to the right, who were now watching a pre-teen girl try her hand at Sinking The Belfast, her first throw managing to open one latch to the door, but completely missing the mark on her next two, to the disappointment of the onlookers who had expected a splash.

‘Doesn’t this infringe on copyright laws?’ Bismarck mumbles, lowering her glasses and frowning. ‘Should we report this?’

Belfast and Formidable remain silent, watching the girl walk up to the Belfast impersonator to have her picture taken. A man in swimming trunks and a white nose from excessive sunblock walks down from a previously-hidden step ladder behind the dunk tank mechanism and display—who you presume to be the dunk tank’s operator—produces a positively ancient polaroid camera from his side-bag, snapping and handing the young girl her winnings, before the so-called imitator resumes her previous pose, the next participant—a tanned reveler in garish beach shorts—takes his own shot.

He misses the first toss by a mile.
>>
A woman lies on her side, sporting silver hair and bright red lipstick upon her attractive features, clad in a tassel-adorned bikini with curtains of decorations placed along the rim of their bright silver design, throwing coy finger wiggles towards her onlookers. She lays upon a trap door, smiling and blowing kisses in an effort to rile up the crowd, the maid’s headdress and the frills on her bikini straps telling you just who she’s meant to be.

She’d probably pass the eye-test from twenty feet or more. The queue is long, but you find yourself practically shoulder-to-shoulder with the tourists just trying to get a good look of the source of the hubbub.

Twenty bucks for three shots? Really?’

‘It’s for charity, man.’

You look up to see the sign, right above the cartoon picture of what you assume to be the Lieutenant.

The Northern Lights’ Children’s Cancer Foundation: Sink The Belfast!

You’re not sure if the title was in good taste, but your eyes wander to the dunking mechanism, which wasn’t a mere static target, but a rotating mark of seven separate targets, five of which are marked with a smaller, yet visually identical copy, of the cartoon head that floated above the attraction’s sign.

‘It’s twenty bucks, though!’

‘Look at it this way: if you hit one, you get a picture for the fridge with a cute girland if you hit two out of three you get a kiss and a picture. That’s more action than what you’d be getting on a Friday night.’

‘Yeah, if I hit it at all.’

It’s a children’s cancer charity, you tightwad.

You move away from the conversation, unwilling to hear anymore, finding your companions with three and a half easy steps to the right, who were now watching a pre-teen girl try her hand at Sinking The Belfast, her first throw managing to open one latch to the door, but completely missing the mark on her next two, to the disappointment of the onlookers who had expected a splash.

‘Doesn’t this infringe on copyright laws?’ Bismarck mumbles, lowering her glasses and frowning. ‘Do we report this?’

Belfast and Formidable remain silent, watching the girl walk up to the Belfast impersonator to have her picture taken. A man in swimming trunks and a white nose from excessive sunblock walks down from a previously-hidden step ladder behind the dunk tank mechanism and display—who you presume to be the dunk tank’s operator—produces a positively ancient polaroid camera from his side-bag, snapping and handing the young girl her winnings, before the so-called imitator resumes her previous pose, the next participant—some tanned reveler in garish beach shorts—takes his shot.

He misses the first toss by a mile.
>>
>>4934794
>‘Lighten up, Captain.’ (Chastise Bismarck)
>‘It’s for charity, Captain. It’s for children’s cancer, for God’s sake.’ (Appalled)
>‘This isn’t Ironblood. Besides, don’t you have … cosplayers there?’ (Flippant)
>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)
>‘I don’t know, but I think I’m all right with parting ways with twenty bucks in the name of charity.’ (Coy)
>‘I think I’ve seen enough. You girls want to go catch something else?’ (Move to leave)
>Write-In
>>
>>4934799
>>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)
>>
>>4934799
>>Write-In
and the stereotype of the ironblood having no sense of humor is true
>>
>>4934799
>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)
>>
>>4934799
Do you think it’s legit? Looks in good fun but only if it’s actually for charity and not a “belfastscam”…
>>
>>4934799
>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)
>>
>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)

Belfast snorts, but the slight twitch of her lips tells you that she’s at least … neutral to your input regarding her look-alike, who was now blowing kisses and making ineligible (but otherwise blatantly flirtatious) statements towards the tanned man whose throws don’t quite come close to landing him the prizes he likely covets with every thrust and swing of his arm. A mix of boos, cheers and applause arrives as he steps—

‘Come on, man,’ a stranger sounds out—taller, older and sporting a very red face adorned with a beard and a baseball cap—staring down at you with a look of disappointment, his voice low enough to almost count as a hiss. ‘There are kids here, you know? You gonna ruin it for everyone?’

He gestures to the clapping children in the queue with their parents or older siblings, shaking his head at you.

>‘Sorry.’ (Sheepish)
>‘So’s the real deal.’ (Show off Belfast)
>‘I’ve seen amateur cosplayers deal better draws.’ (Snipe)
>‘Everyone really enjoys buying into the illusion that much?’ (Unimpressed)
>Write-In
>>
>>4934867
>>‘Sorry.’ (Sheepish)
>>
>>4934867
>I think I can do the kids and everyone else one better... let me introduce my Aunts... Belfast Formidable and Bismark.
>>
>>4934867
>>‘Everyone really enjoys buying into the illusion that much?’ (Unimpressed)
>>
>>4934867
>"Hey, I'm complimenting her actually, the standard is set really high!"
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>>4934959
Supporting
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>>4934875
we have the disguises for a reason anon -_-