Day Two

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Marco left earlier than he usually would for the island, arriving in his clearing some time past midnight. He built up his nest using large trees that grew in abundance on the isle and spent a surplus of time bathing in the fire, contemplating his next actions.

He knew Ace would be on the lookout for him and he knew, thanks to Ace's own words, the exact time frame Ace's eyes would be roving the crests of the waves and the invisible night clouds searching for him. He could stay out on the island until Ace's shift ended and then return without exposing himself to the boy. He kind of liked that Ace hadn't yet discovered his true identity. The deceit made things fun for him, plus he would admit he enjoyed being the subject of Ace's high praise.

Admiring words from Ace warmed him, much like the heat from the fire he was sitting in did.

As he thought more about those words Ace had uttered yesterday he felt an idea begin to take shape in his mind. Granted, it was not a full fledged plan but more like a curious little experiment just to see what might happen.

The idea flourished and before Marco knew what he was doing he'd snuffed out his fire an hour earlier than he'd thought he would and transformed back into a human. He grabbed the sides of his jacket that hung open and zipped it up. With the cloth covering his tattoo he knew that the mark of the Whitebeard pirates wouldn't appear on his chest while in his alternate form.

Cool blue flames licked the ground around him and before Marco could place doubt in himself he took off, sailing up, up, up through the trees and away from the island. He spun and barrelled along higher in the sky, reaching a height where low lying stratus clouds formed. The moisture coated him in a thin sheen of liquid, adding extra shine to his already bright appearance. He couldn't hear the waves below him with the whoosh of air in his ears but he could see the whitecaps dotting the ocean. He saw with his keen eyes, in the darkness of the night, how the waves heaved up against the Moby Dick, sprinkling the side of the great ship with sea spray.

He moved his gaze farther along, up the rigging and past the furled sails to the crow's nests. He had a good idea which one Ace resided in and after coming closer in range he saw a flicker of red to confirm his suspicions. From the distance between Marco and the flame that had emerged on the top of one of the masts it reminded the former of a single candle on a birthday cake, sputtering under someone's breath. The wind was picking up and it pushed Marco to fly over the top of the ship, his tail lurching wildly in a sudden bout of turbulence.

Marco could feel Ace's eyes watching him. In fact, he could see the excitement emanating from the boy just by clueing in to body language alone. Marco careened and curled around, shooting back over the Moby Dick. This time he allowed himself to get a bit closer. His eager eyes showed him that Ace was beaming and running about the crow's nest from one side to another, trying to keep up with Marco's quick movements and get the best view of his blue creature.

Marco circled for several minutes, watching bemused as Ace was beside himself with exhilaration. Daringly he dipped lower, losing altitude to glide over the top of the mast, brushing his long ringed tail over the flag that rippled lightly in the wind. It was, in its own way, a fond show of his pride to be a Whitebeard pirate. Ace, however, wouldn't catch the hidden meaning, not without first knowing that it was Marco who flew so gaily above him.

As Marco rose once more to a safer elevation he noticed Ace's hands glowing a bright vivid red. These hands were raised above his head, crackling with a hot inviting fire. Any bit of flame during the five days his yearly cycle was composed of earned his curiosity. Marco found himself pulled to this fire in much the same way he was to any fire that burned bright and alluring.

'Come here,' the fire beckoned. 'Let me touch you.'

He spooked; Ace's fire was innocently drawing him in. He allowed himself one last swoop over the topgallant mast, felt the tempting heat of the flames below him, then spiralled and headed back towards the island. It took a lot of willpower to ignore the feeling in his gut that was pulling him backwards.

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