AkumaOuja
Figured it's about time I continued this.
As per usual, comments and criticism are welcomed.
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Lockhart sighed as he'd put the record into place. Regretfully, his many cosmetic talents had never included a singing voice of note. What he gathered seemed to suggest that the song itself had to be carefully chosen. Songs of the ocean, of homecoming, of service and spirit, these all seemed the ideal choices. Thankfully, many sea shanties and the like had been composed over the years that covered precisely those topics. However he was hardly much of a singer himself. To be sure, for a sea shanty or sailor's song, he supposed that it was less tune and clean notes than spirit, however he felt that the best odds were if he made it as direct as he possibly could.
And that would take a more feminine touch, he thought. Thankfully, his adoring fans were
more than willing to show their support for the war effort by singing a few songs. More than one song had been written about a sailor who hadn't come home, after all, and outsourcing like this meant he wouldn't even have to pay for anything
"
I can only hope that this doesn't take too horribly long," He thought as he adjusted the cap of his grandfather's uniform and moved the needle into place. He'd decided to start with a few of the more unlikely ones first and narrow things down a tad.
So, dressed in his grandfather's uniform, surrounded by whatever naval paraphernalia he could gather up discreetly, he set the record playing and struck as fine a salute as he could have managed. His foyer was perhaps not an ideal place for this, but it was the only one with a water feature and he'd hoped the small saltwater fountain would be of some kind of help in this endeavor.
Three hours and several dozen songs later, his arm had started to cramp, he was rather stiff, and starting to rethink this entire enterprise as he set about putting his last record into place.
"
Damn it all, I need someone to answer! I can't be seen sitting on the sidelines! I'll lose everything if people...realize what a fraud I am.." He thought desperately, even as the record began to spin.
Come all you bold seamen
And see what is done~
It began, the voice of a woman floated through the room with almost an operatic tone as she sang the opening to
Britons, Strike Home. Lockhart waited with baited breath. A minute passed....and then another.
My father was a squire,
And I was his heir~
"No, no damn you!" He muttered as his hopes faded and he saw the threads of his career as they slipped away. "
This...this has to work! It just has to work, I can't lose out like this." He thought as he frantically tried to come up with a solution.
However, as the final strains of
Britons, Strike Home came to an end, there was still no shipgirl. He and his career were as doomed as they were when he'd begun. He sighed and slouched into a chair next to the recordplayer.
"I'm
ruined." He said, and placed his head in his hands.
What could he do? He was hardly going to be able to write a book without a story to
write, and if he simply made it up, it'd be obvious he was a fraud. His entire career, ruined because of a missing boat.
He lifted his head and took his grandfather's cap in his hand as he stared forlornly at record player. In the end, he supposed his fame hadn't been able to last forever, not on it's own.
He looked down at the hat in his hands, blue and a touch threadbare, he'd need to have it repaired at some point, it wouldn't do to let it degrade after all.
"
Remember Gilderoy. Just because you've got a way to take it easy, to let someone or something else do the work, doesn't mean you should. I won't say you shouldn't ever, because lord knows I've shirked a touch here and there, but when it comes down to it, the finest work is always done with your own hands. Besides, sometimes, the easy way isn't so easy, when it comes down to it."
His grandfather had said that to him when he was a child. He'd caught him trying to transfigure a few pieces of wood into a new chair after he'd broken one. He'd sat him down and helped him build a new one by hand as he explained it to him.
In that moment knew exactly what to do. He stood up and smoothed back his hair before he placed the cap carefully atop his head. Then he drew in a deep breath and started to
sing.
'"Tis now two months or more,
Since a boat left the shore,
Mann'd by a skipper and his men
It sail'd at night away,
A storm came on next day,
And breaking hearts long
For the boat's return since then~"
He sang with everything he had, pushing every ounce of emotion he could into each word. This was, inessence, his last chance. If this failed, what else could he do?
"The skipper's wife goes down
Ev'ry day from the town,
To watch for tidings on the shore;
She strains her aching eyes,
And through her descries,
The phantom of a form
That will come back no more~"
His eyes were closed as he sang, and so the unearthly glow that appeared infront of him went unnoticed, until a rumbling, like the rushing of water being forced out of the way by something truly massive. He ignores it however, terrified that if he stopped singing for even a moment, it would all be a waste.
"The child she lulls to rest
Lulls to rest on her breast,
Asks, when will father come again?
She dares not give repl-"
"Hello there! HMS
Royal Sovereign, reporting for duty!...Or am I
Arkhangelsk?" A voice said, starting out feminine and slightly welsh, before deepening like a child imitating her father and taking on a Russian accent, and he opened his eyes to see her.
She was tall, with blue eyes and rather silky brunette hair in a long ponytail, and a stereotypically Russian fur hat was seated on her head, a thick fur trimmed coat over a buttoned up waistcoat and a short skirt.
"
I suppose it says something about me that that was the first things I noticed. Though she at the least seems to have similar appreciation for good hair care." Lockhart mused, even as he took in what likely should have been the more immediate concern rather than her fashion sense.
That would be the battleship she was wearing. A pair of twin barreled cannons sat behind and above her shoulders swivelling slightly as if they were testing their range of motion, and her arms held a grip inlaid into the twin halves of a battleship. Studded along the length of her arms were fourteen smaller cannons, and at her elbows sat a more modest pair of guns than most of the others. Above her hands were each two smaller guns, the most meager of the lot. A rather metallic set of heels attached to what seemed to be the bow of a ship, complete with torpedo tubes seemed to complete the ensemble.
Lockhart looked at her expectant face and gave himself a shake, before he put on his best smile and held out a hand. "Well,
Sovereign, My name is Gilderoy Lockhart." He said.
She seemed to regard him and his dazzling smile for a moment, before nodding and taking his hand in a firm grip.
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Ehhhhhhh, not quite satisfied with this. It's messy, but it needed doing. Finding information on summoning was a bitch and a half, so eventually I just had to work off the tiny pieces that got mentioned from time to time.
If anyone actually knows how the fuck it works, I'm open to rewriting this.