SUPPORT - Intervention and Sovereign - C-Rank

“Eep!”

With a mouse’s shriek, Sovereign wheeled around, white twintails flying in the ocean breeze! She nearly whacked her sister with a fishing pole in the process. Un-nibbled bait flew up out of dark waters, and flopped up onto the small pier.

“Oh! Good morning, Inty! You snuck up on me.”

Intervention was silent as the dead, a very comforting trait.

“Hello, Sovvy. Out pretending to fish again?”

“I’m not sure I appreciate that implication, holy sister.” Sovereign frowned. “Just because the fish aren’t biting, doesn’t mean I’m not giving it my all out here.”

‘Twas true! Fishing often looked like somebody sitting there doing nothing, but that perception just belied the complex, internal struggle. In a way, fishing was war.

Long stretches of interminable boredom, punctuated by moments of sheer terror.

Intervention didn’t miss a beat, red eyes locked on target. “Do you think you could give it your all inside, with the rest of us? We’re preparing lunch. We’ve gained a few mouths to feed lately, including one that is very particular.”

Sovereign huffed. “Anyone who isn’t picky about the things they put into their body is simply- Wait, that’s not the point. I am helping! I’m catching fish to cook!”

Intervention regarded the empty bucket on the pier.

“You are?”

“That was the intention, anyhow!” Sovereign turned as red as her own ruby eyes. “So it didn’t work out as planned. This damn pole is too short, the line is too long, and the bait is clearly not very appetizing to the little fishies. Perhaps they are particular, as well!”

“Or perhaps the regular passing of military-grade warships, churning up these shallow waters with our turbine blades, diesel motors, and practice gunnery, have rendered these the worst fishing grounds short of an oil rig.” Intervention sighed, and rubbed her forehead. “A bad workman always blames her tools.”

“Excuse me? How dare you-”

“Though I suspect this place’s barren nature is why it suited you so well.”

Sovereign’s eyes narrowed. Even a stunted youth spent putting up with this attitude hadn’t helped her grow any thicker skin towards it. Or rather, while she might put up with insolence from others, to some degree, Inty always knew how to slip right under her skin, like the point of a very sharp little stiletto.

“Enough. I get it, Inty. You’re meaning to imply that I’m out here, fishing in barren waters, to avoid doing ‘real work’ around the base.”

Intervention nodded.

“I cannot believe that you would think that about me, and be so brazen as to say it to my face!” Sovereign exclaimed, tossing down her fishing rod in indignation. “Actually, scratch that, neither of those things are a shock. You're always so quick to see the worst in anyone!”

“I had an excellent teacher in that regard,” Intervention said. “Come, there’s work to be done.”

“Burn in hell, Inty.”

Sovereign picked back up her fishing pole, and cast it out to sea.

She didn’t look back, but the receding of a wicked pressure she felt crawling up her spine surely meant that Intervention had given up, and gone back to making lunch in the mess hall.

And good riddance!

Honestly, asking Sovereign to help out with work, like she was some common destroyer. Or a nekomata workman. Heavy cruisers were cut out for other tasks, assets too valuable to waste on simple manual labor.

If Inty wants to debase herself by doing everyone’s work and babying them, then all the better. Not like this place has many other comforts to rely upon.

I'm starting to wonder if running away was even the right move.