Operation Torch: IC

stewartsage · May 17, 2011, 01:44:50 PM

The few trees remaining swayed gently in the wind across the flat plain of the Rabat-Salé Aerodrome, the occasional dust devil whipping across the paved strip from the piles of dirt created in the airfield's construction. At one end of the field a few Dewoitine 520s and Hawks of the Armée de l'Air's GC I/3 were under the care of the squadron's mechanics beside a neglected pair of RAF Hawker Hardy biplanes. In front of the 'terminal' building a Handley Page Harrow was slowly being loaded with stretchers and walking wounded by Liberian medics from the back of open trucks. A trio of half-tracks rumbled past the end of the runway towards the interior, stirring up a little more dust in the still air. All in all it was shaping up to be a pleasant afternoon for November in Morocco.

Capitaine-commandant Eléonore Petrisse watched over the whole operation from a deck chair in front of a canvass fly erected at the edge of the runway. Along with a canvass wall tent acquired at the Liberian beachhead it was the entire headquarters of the brand new Rabat Air Detachment. None of that seemed to concern the green clad girl lazing under a parasol sipping occasionally from a glass of cloudy liquid in her hand. With the other, Eléonore tugged absently at her collar's red/blue rank tabs as the last stretcher from was levered from the truck bed into the aircraft. The witch took an unhurried look at her wristwatch; it was frozen at ten past two. Nevertheless she seemed to have been stirred from inaction by the movement, swinging her legs off the chair into a waiting pair of boots all without letting go of her glass. Pulling the umbrella out of the sand with her free hand, she looked over at the tent with distant brown eyes, "Joëlle, prends le Ibrik et venir. C'est presque l'heure."

"Comment l'enfer savez-vous quelle heure il est?" emerging from the tent decanter in hand, the blond sailor towered over her commander's sun shade. Somewhat better more completely clothed then the witch in dress and apron with her rank stitched on, QM2 Joëlle Moreau stepped up beside her 'mistress'. Raising an eyebrow at Eléonore, who merely stared out across the runway towards the sea, the sailor sighed in resignation as Elé ignored the question and took her first step towards the runway. Pausing again, she tipped her glass towards the sound of magical propellers slowly growing from the sea. The Belgigan girl smiled with vacant satisfaction, "Venez, venez! Nous avons des invités."

Dr. Kraus · May 17, 2011, 03:24:13 PM

PO Abigail Lee was one of these guests, Fänrik Inga Krig of Baltland and Lieutenant Celia Baumer of Leberion completed the list. Krig and Baumer where flanking Abigail forming a horizontal line across the wide cement runway that was so hot you could cook an egg on it! Much of the runway's dust dispersed and shifted as the three girls made their landing run, making sure they didn't crash into each other. Unlike Krig and Baumer, Abigail was a little trickster whom was always coming up with new ways to irritate or impress her fellow witches. "Hey hey, Krig! Watch this!" Abigail then accelerated and pushed herself strait up, Krig seemed to be unimpressed by this and continued with her landing procedure. Abigail continued to rocket upward with her Hawker hurricane Mk1 striker making sounds resembling a dieing animal "uh-oh" the engine gave out on Abigail's striker and she started spiraling downward, "Start you bloody striker, START" her yelling was just starting to make her go into panic mode.

(What will happen now guys?)

Bella · May 17, 2011, 04:56:27 PM

"Oh for godssake," Lieutenant Baumer grumbled before soaring downward to Abigail's rescue; using her magically-enhanced strength, she caught the substantially larger witch in her arms and steadied her own - or rather, their - descent as they continued forward toward the runway. When it was just underneath she touched down; coming to a stop, she let her 'passenger' down clumsily. "You're welcomed," Celia muttered before moving forward toward the heavily tanned woman she assumed was their commander; who was curiously holding a parasol and flanked by what appeared to be a maid.

Dr. Kraus · May 17, 2011, 06:03:17 PM

"heh, thanks Lieutenant!" Abigail said picking herself up off the ground and following close behind Baumer whom was proceeding toward the tan woman. "My my, what a pretty young woman! though she is a tad short to be our commander, right?" Abigail whispered to Baumer. Baumer gave her a shove indicating "Hey, mind giving me some space?" and causing her to get pushed into Inga. "Vad hälen är ditt problem?" Yelled Inga, her face turning shades of red and purple "Uh..um..I...Uh...Ugn?" Abigail didn't speak Baltlandish (correct me if this is wrong) thus she sputtered the only thing that came to mind at the time. "Ugn...?" Inga was confused at this point as she was calming down, "Why did you say 'Oven'?" Inga asked perplexed. Abigail's face turned a dark shade of red at this point, looking down at the ground she replied "I..um..just said what came to mind..." Looking over to the Lieutenant and tanned woman seemed to just make her more embarrassed as Inga started to laugh. "We best be meeting the commander Inga! No time for laughing!" Abigail said whilst running toward the lieutenant and tanned woman.

stewartsage · May 17, 2011, 08:15:22 PM

OOC: Doc, you might want to give the other character's writers a chance to react on their own.

NejinOniwa · May 17, 2011, 08:28:58 PM

Inga felt slight annoyance rising as Abigail ran off. Bloody Brit, she swore for herself as she shook her head. For a moment she thought of giving the woman a taste of her magic, but she brushed off the childish impulse. After all, she could hardly be following her example of conduct when meeting their new commander for the first time.
Then again... she looked at the runway under their feet - it was very flat and smooth, and newly cleaned, to boot. She grinned widely as she gripped hold of her magic and pulled the temperature of the tarmac, and the air above it, to as cold as she could manage - instantly, a field of thick frost and ice spread beneath their feet. Baumer seemed surprised, but managed to hold her footing - not so much Abigail, running at full speed as she was, who slipped and fell, banging her shoulder into the tarmac. Inga chuckled as she watched the Brit wince in pain. "Nice tackle," she murmured.

Dr. Kraus · May 17, 2011, 09:09:47 PM

Quote from: stewartsage on May 17, 2011, 08:15:22 PM
OOC: Doc, you might want to give the other character's writers a chance to react on their own.

OCC: Roger that, I just went off the feeling so I will retract.

stewartsage · May 17, 2011, 09:24:31 PM

OOC: That's okay! It worked; just in the future try and keep the control of other players characters to a minimum.

Eléonore watched the cavorting of her new subordinates with dispassion, though the sips of her drink increased steadily with each new event. By the time the woman she presumed was the Baltland Lieutenant froze the runway section over the Belgian had finished the glass off. Holding it out towards her servant, Eléonore took another hearty gulp as the Britannian slid to a stop in front of the two women. Looking down at Abigail, Eléonore cleared her throat before murmuring, "Forgive me if I do not clap in appreciation, Pilot Officer, my hands are rather full at the moment."

"Christ, ils sont si nouveaux que vous pouvez ici les grincement," Joëlle whispered aside to the detachment commander, still occupied with staring at the girl laying on the ice. After a moment the brunette seemed to stir from her slumber, clear her throat again, take another sip from her glass, and turn to the others picking their way across the ice. Pointing with her glass hand towards the 'terminal' where a confused Harrow pilot was leaning out of his cockpit window at the ice, Eléonore added, "Sous-lieutenant Krig, would you kindly dispel the ice you have made? This is an active runway ladies, please hurry clear and follow me."

Apparently satisfied with that she turned on here heel with a slight wobble and returned the direction she'd come from.

NejinOniwa · May 17, 2011, 09:30:40 PM

Feeling she had accomplished her objective, Inga reversed the process - the frost and ice quickly turned into small puddles of water. This also had the additional effect of making Abigail soaking wet. "That's not how it works, by the way. I just melt it again." She followed the commander with a slight strut to her walk.

Bella · May 17, 2011, 10:06:19 PM

"Oh, damn," Celia frowned, looking mournfully at the puddles on the ground; she has quite liked the reprieve from the heat. She paused briefly to help Abigail up before continuing forward; passing Inga, she trailed closely behind the commander and contemplated introducing herself.

Dr. Kraus · May 18, 2011, 07:20:16 PM

"Oi! You bloody twit, look what ya've don!" Abigail was doing her best to put on the "Strong Englishmen" accent but was failing due to her voice not possessing a low octave. Abigail noticed Inga look over and shoulder and mouth the word "Fool" causing Abigail to pout and run after the woman. Abigail then realized that she wasn't wearing any shorts (cargo shorts) and her face turned a shade of red doctor's wouldn't believe to be humanly possible "Hey hey! Don't any of you have pants I can have!?!?" Abigail asked embarrassed and panicking.

stewartsage · May 18, 2011, 09:14:13 PM

"I do not," stopping and spinning on her right foot to face the pack of girls following after them, Eléonore directed a slightly more focused glare (complete with pursed lips) at Inga and Abigail. She waited a beat then extended her now empty glass to her maid, "Remplir s'il vous plaît, Joëlle."

Removing the stopper from the decanter and filling the iceless glass with a studiously neutral expression, "Oui madame."

Standing firm, Eléonore stared at the gathered girls with only a little more interest then her servant filling the glass. Twirling her parasol on her shoulder, the Belgian witch brought her full glass to her lips quickly draining it's contents. Handing the empty to Joëlle without taking her eyes off the three, Eléonore opened her mouth to give a thunderous denouncement; just in time for the Harrow to roar past on it's outbound flight. Wincing slightly as the wind blew at her shirt tails and beat dirt against her bare legs she made a dismissive gesture. Just a few yards from her chair, she skipped the remaining distance before sinking back into the comfort of the canvas backed deckchair.

Firmly planting the umbrella back in the sand as her companion returned to the cover of the fly with the decanter and a disdainful look at the officers. The three new pilots milled about, uncertain what to do. Eléonore reopened her eyes before again waving her hand, this time as if calling them together. Looking past the girls she closed her eyes again, "Attention! Form ranks an' report for duty s'il vous plaît, we 'av a busy afternoon ahead."

Bella · May 19, 2011, 12:53:41 PM

Celia stared at Eléonore for a few moments. Did I just see her skip back to the tent...? She pondered, her eyes reflexively squinting in confusion...

Deciding it wasn't the time or place to judge Eléonore's quirks (and that she was probably in no position to question odd behavior herself), Celia gave a brief salute and spoke: "It's Lieutenant Celia Baumer, ma'am, of the United States Navy..." she trailed off and waited for her companions to introduce themselves.

NejinOniwa · May 19, 2011, 01:52:57 PM

Inga had, as was quite common for her, totally forgotten about the fact that she still was in her transformed state - thus, her hastily snapped salute resulted in her tearing a wide gash on the back of her right hand where it struck the points of her antlers. "Ah." She gave a slight hiss, but didn't drop her salute, despite the fact that blood was dripping onto her face. "Fänrik Inga Krig, Baltland Royal Air Force. Ma'am. Though you-" she paused for a moment, as she was licking the blood off her cheek, "already seem to be aware of that. Ma'am." She lowered her hand and started licking the blood off it, with a slight frown settling on her face.

Dr. Kraus · May 19, 2011, 03:40:26 PM

"Pilot Officer Abigail Lee, Brittania Royal Air Force! I serve His Majesty The King and his Air Force, the best in the Sky!" Abigail said with a stern, proud voice and her chest puffed out along with the RAF's salute. Abigail was a little startled by Inga's bleeding but held her attention while Inga gave her a cold stare that indicated "What do you mean 'The best in the sky?'!?". 'I will not break attention, I will not break attention, I will not break attention, I will not break attention!' Abigail said to her self with a cold, mindless stare that seemed to dive into the depths of her heart where nothing but darkness resides. Her stare has been like this during attention since The Battle of Britannia, "I will be like her..." Abigail said under her breath which seemed to catch a little attention from the others.