Chapter 47

Something that Canon tended to gloss over was travel time, and the fact of the matter was that from Dawn Island in the East Blue to Thalya Island, which was located closer to the South Blue side of the New World, took a long time.

Even with Metanoia's upgrades and ability to sail underwater, even with an Eternal Pose to their destination, even if they did everything right, circumstances beyond their control occasionally necessitated detours, which neither Marshall or his crew were happy about.

Nor, as it turned out, was Mettie.

Watching Ashley trip over the same coil of rope for the fifth time and nearly smash their face into the railing for the sixth time, Marshall decided that enough was enough.

"Look," he told Mettie seriously, "I know you're upset, but Ashley isn't responsible for the flying walrus migration or the mess on your deck so ease up, okay?"

The ship creaked beneath his feet, sounding distinctly petulant.

Marshall frowned, leaning back against the railing and pointedly rapping his knuckles on the wood, painted a light purple to stand out against the blackness of the rest of the ship (because he apparently had a theme), raising an eyebrow as he repeated, "okay?"

...Creak...

"I'm not saying you can't be upset, but it's been four days and the deck was repaired on day one, repaired by Ashley, so what's really going on?"

Creak!

Marshall paused, parsing that, then deadpanned, "seriously? That's why you've been tormenting the chicken?"

...Creak.

"They didn't mean to cut your rigging!" He facepalmed.

It wasn't their fault they were in the gangly phase of a growth spurt!

(Really, it was long overdue - he'd been managing Ashley's diet for years at this point, steadily undoing all the damage from before the snarky Zoan joined the crew; he'd researched this shit, damn it!)

(The gremlin was still sulking about being the shortest person on the crew.)

It took upwards of half an hour before Mettie settled down.

...Apparently his ship took a great deal after the gremlin, he thought, eye twitching.

Creak...creak...

The boards beneath him sounded distinctly apologetic when he was done talking. Lightly tapping his knuckles on the railing again, he smiled as he reassured the ship, "you'll learn."

Mettie's sails rustled louder, the sound unmistakably cheerful.

Ashley's streak of unnatural clumsiness eased up a great deal after that, much to the chicken-person's relief.

The New World-grade storm as they sailed into Paradise was...unpleasant, to say the least.

The rampant whirlpools meant taking Mettie underwater wouldn't be any better than weathering the storm on the surface, and also meant that Topaz was in the most danger.

"Don't worry, Captain!" The fish called, shouting to be heard over the roar of the wind, "this is great training!" The now skiff-sized goldfish jumped up to demonstrate, slapping and shattering a hailstone before it could put a hole in Mettie's sail with an Armament darkened tail.

The sea-beasts, stirred by the storm, just provided extra targets.

Okay then.

"Damn it, gremlin!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

Marshall disagreed.

So did Mettie.

"Cursed rocks, insulting trees, freaky monkeys, that's all fine, but I draw the line at fucking pineapple-addicted magma slugs!"

Wisely, his crew retreated to Mettie's deck to watch the ensuing carnage from a safe distance.

"Okay, now turn a little to the left, check the Log Pose...and we're on course." Marshall smiled.

Dina stepped back from the wheel, shaking with nerves but grinning ecstatically.

(Alright, maybe having her steer through those waterspouts her first time at the wheel was a little much, but she'd done fine! Didn't even scratch Mettie's paint!)

She was shaping up to be quite the helmswoman, if he did say so himself.

Ashley came up to him while they were stopped at a Fall Island to resupply and asked - no, demanded - that he teach them everything he knew about medicine.

Which, he freely admitted, wasn't a lot.

When he got through explaining what he did know, Ashley was giving him a weird look.

What? He was no doctor, not like Olivia.

Shaking their head, the chicken-person muttered, "Not a doctor, right..."

Still, the Zoan paid close attention to his lectures on proper wound care.

The hardest lesson any crew, even those in the New World, learned was that they weren't invincible.

His first crew learned that lesson from Charlotte Compote.

His second crew wasn't so lucky; the Beast Pirates, led by the man who'd be known as Jack the Drought, made sure of that.

The battle was short and brutal.

Ashley was the first to fall, multiple lacerations staining their white feathered coat bright red.

Dina was the second, the sound of bones breaking as loud as her screams as her arms broke.

Topaz gasped for breath, bright gold-orange scales painted crimson from torn fins and internal injuries.

Kyle was barely conscious, bloody foam bubbling from her lips as she wheezed, ribs crushed from the mammoth-man's stomp.

The gremlin was the last to fall, barely recognizable through all the blood by the time Marshall arrived. He didn't escape unscathed, far from it, but his injuries were minor compared to what he did to the Beast Pirates.

(It would be years before he realized he was responsible for the mammoth-man's metal jaw.

Jack never forgot.)

Rushing to get his crew into the infirmary and stabilized, Marshall never noticed Mettie's anchor rising, her sails unfurling and wheel spun by unseen hands as the ship turned, eager to be away from the place that had nearly robbed her of her crew.

With no destination, the Metanoia sailed towards the horizon.

By the time Marshall stumbled out of the infirmary onto Mettie's deck, they were far away from the site of the battle and in sight of another island entirely.

A very familiar island.

Marshall couldn't help laughing, the sound tinged with hysteria.

It was Orango.

(When Annie opened the door and saw Marshall standing there, older and broader and with longer hair but unmistakably Marshall, that familiar sheepish look on his face and several people behind him who looked like they'd seen better days, there was only one thing she could do.

"Hey Annie-" he'd scarcely gotten the words out before she was hugging him, having to jump to do so but considering the fervor with which he returned her embrace? Totally worth it. He graciously bent down so her feet were no longer off the ground, which she appreciated.

"Welcome back," she whispered, feeling his shoulders trembling and wordlessly tightening her arms.

There would be time for talking later, for now she silently let him know that she was there and it would all be alright.)