Unseekers (Portgas D. Ace X OC)

Chapter 3| Days of Nonchalance

1080 Days ago:

An artist that Isabelle didn't remember the name of once said that art is the line that gives thoughts shape. So it was times like those when she poured over cans of paint, inhaling all the colors and spilling them into canvases that she felt at peace. Her thoughts hung on the walls, on the windows, against the bed and the dresser of her cabin.
Drunk on the smell of paint and paint under her nails, Isabelle got out of her room after the sun was out in the morning. She had given up on taming her red locks a long time ago.

What awaited her in the Kitchen was a surprise. Seated with Teach, Oliva and other former Spade Pirates, was Ace, his yellow shirt abandoned and the White Beard's tattoo proud on his broad back. A four-word tattoo 'ASCE' with the S cut out on his arm was also on display.

"Rookie!" Isabelle threw herself on the empty chair beside him. "Finally joining in the party, are you?"

He said nothing but looked over at her with a non-threatening glare. The dining hall was humming with friendly conversation.

"Know what? That's the second time you have looked like me you don't want to feed me to the dogs," Isabelle nodded. "Progress,"

"There's paint under your nails, Iz," Oliva pointed out as she pushed the scrambled eggs around in her plate. "Wash your hands before Thatch notices,"

"Okay, mom," Isabelle rolled her eyes at the dark-skinned beauty.

"Ships sighted! Three of them!" A pirate from the top of the watchtower shouted. "3'O clock! They're loading their canons,"

"Just watch your senior work," Isabelle pointed a thumb at herself, standing beside Ace and Oliva.

She climbed up on the railing, molding transparent spears of beryl crystals under her. It traveled above the water in grey streaks and reached the nearest ship meters ahead. The confused yells of the enemy could be heard all the way to the Moby Dick when the enemy ship crusted with the crystal and crumbled in on itself within minutes.

"That took more time than it should," Ace spoke.

"Oh?" Isabelle quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

"If you want it to be," Ace shrugged. "You might want to step back,"

"Where did that sudden confidence come from?" Oliva murmured but nevertheless took several steps back along with Isabelle.

"Fire Fist!"

A sudden, scorching heat blew around Ace's extended palm, along with a rush of fire that plowed both the remaining ships ablaze in a matter of seconds.

Isabelle whistled, shielding her face from the heat "Show off,"

Ace grinned for the first time in days.

1079 Days ago:

Just before the butt crack of dawn, Isabelle gathered her sketch-book, bottles of paint and settled down on the gallery's balcony. She was feeling restless so what was better than painting the sunrise? No other crew member would be awake but if they were, they better be ready for a pale ghost on the balcony. Even the seagulls were asleep, so it was just her, the salty breeze and the ocean.

One thousand and seventy-nine days before the devil came for her...she promised herself she wouldn't miss a single sunrise. She always thought she had been a lucky child, in terms of not dying. There was the accident of that burning town, that assassination attempt of the royal family and that shipwreck accident that killed two of her siblings. She escaped it all; a ringing reminder that her days were numbered. Literally.

A sudden thump behind her made her jump enough for her to almost spill orange over her page. She squinted at the barely lit hallway, watching the stumbling silhouette draw closer. A sleep ruffled Thatch walked past her, barely giving her a second glance.

"Yep, just ignore me, sleepwalking old man..." Isabelle grumbled.

"Who's an old man?" Thatch asked, voice heavy with sleep. He leaned against the balcony railing, a lit cigarette hanging off his lips. "Crazy girl..." he yawned, dropping his cigarette in the water "When do you ever sleep?"

"It's already morning, old man," Isabelle said, brush flying over her page. Thatch sauntered off somewhere, grumbling under her breath and returned with a warm glass of milk. He placed it beside her with a sigh.

"Still treating me like a kid?" Isabelle rolled her eyes. Thatch ruffled her already too ruffled hair.

"Milk is a very grown-up drink,"

That day, the Moby Dick anchored on the ports of Irako Island, a fairly large piece of land with a lively market. There was no way the townsfolk wouldn't notice the towering Moby Dick.

"Do your errands and come back," Marco's stern voice rang across the Main deck. "Anyone who doesn't make it back by the afternoon will be left behind,"

"Whatever happened to 'We don't leave Family behind?'" Isabelle asked, cupping her palms over her mouth so that her voice would reach. The Pirates around her chuckled.

"We leave them if they are a pain in the ass," Marco replied.

"Aw, We love you too," Oliva said.

White Beard chuckled, softly from his seat.

The crew scattered temporarily and Isabelle watched Ace and Deuce steer out a small raft with a distinct motor embedded on the back. She waved Oliva goodbye and followed the boys as they carried the raft down the ships' steps. They planted the raft on the water and Deuce started scribbling notes.

"Searching for parts?" Isabelle popped her head out from behind Deuce. "That's an unusual raft. Did you make it?"

Duece puffed his chest proudly. "I made it. It's called Striker. Runs on Ace's fire. Impressive, isn't it?"

"It works just fine, Deuce," Ace prodded the motor.

"I'm pretty sure it received damage after Jinbe's attack. Show me," The bulkier man offered, pen hovering over his small notebook.

"With pleasure," Ace smirked, setting the raft on fire. The motor hummed to life and he shot off the port, gliding the water with smooth, curving strokes.

But, the raft jerked to a stop and Ace, losing balance, hurled off, landing in the water on his back.

Deuce swore under his breath and dove into the water and soon enough dragged out a panting Ace.

"Need to buy parts?" Isabelle asked again, not helping a grin tug at the corners of her lips.

On their hunt to scavenge motor parts, they stopped for lunch. Apparently, Ace had a habit of falling asleep in the middle of eating, dozing off with a piece of meat between his teeth. It gave the restaurant people a good scare.

Isabelle teased him about it halfway back.

The other half, Ace endlessly commented about her new Wanted Poster that he spotted in the newspaper.

As if she didn't know her hair had a will of its own.

Paired with her set of winter grey eyes, pale skin, she liked to call herself a unique specimen.