The sun rose up the next morning like it was any other day, and that was exactly how Izzy treated it. When he opened his eyes, the morning light was just able to reach underneath his door. Groggy, he tossed off the blanket and sat up on the side of the bed. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he stretched and began to get dressed. Heading over to the small dresser in the room, he picked out his clothes easily. Then again, how hard could picking clothes be when the only color Izzy owned was black? His fingers quickly fastened the leather waistcoat, which had come to feel like another layer of skin over time. As he pulled a black glove over his right hand, an unfamiliar noise came from the corner. Up until then, Izzy had forgotten the kitten existed.
The small ball of white still had not moved much from where he'd put it yesterday. Near the corner, the hardtack remained from the night before. Not a crumb of it was missing.
Izzy's boots walked over to the corner and kicked it closer to the animal. Still, the cat only stared. He stared right back for a moment or so before turning away. Closing the door, Izzy headed down to the galley to begin the day.
The ship was quiet, which was something he savored. The only noticeable noise was the sound of the waves on the ocean. The rest of the crew wouldn't wake for a while still, just another example of their laziness. Even Ed was a late riser most mornings. Izzy helped himself to a small bowl of oatmeal and watched the water in peace. Of course, all good things must come to an end, and one by one, the rest of the crew came on deck. Eventually, Ed made his appearance. He was dressed in a black undershirt with a purple, silk robe tied around his middle. One of Stede's, no doubt.
Setting his empty bowl down quickly, Izzy straightened and turned towards Ed. "Good morning, boss."
"Mornin', Izzy," the captain said with a yawn.
"What are the plans for today?"
"Hm? Oh, uh, no plan, really. We'll go wherever the wind takes us."
Izzy nodded because that was all he could do. He knew he'd lost some credit with Ed since that duel with Stede. For the moment, he had to do what Ed wanted until he got that credit back. He didn't let the sneer show on his face until the captain walked away.
Wherever the wind takes us, Izzy thought bitterly. A good choice of words, considering that the sea breeze was almost nonexistent that morning. Another day of nothing. Just everyone lying around, doin' absolute jack. His nose wrinkled at the thought. Izzy found himself missing the days where they got up early to raid a Spanish ship before they woke. But that was before Ed learned about things like retirementment, vacations, and lazy days. It was before he knew people like Stede Bonnet existed. Now everything was "where the wind takes us".
Against his better judgment, his eyes followed Ed, just in time to see Stede bring him a cup of morning tea. The bright smile on his face was blinding, forcing him to look away.
. . . Fuck the wind.
There was only so much a man could take, and watching Stede and Ed lollygag about while everyone else did nothing all day was too much. He needed something, anything to keep himself busy. Or else he might just go mad. Rolling up his sleeves, Izzy scanned the ship in search of something to occupy him. Thankfully, due to the fact that no one else seemed to be lifting a finger, work wasn't hard to find.
The mop hit the deck with an audible fwop. Back and forth, back and forth, Izzy maneuvered it across the wooden floor. Though it was a particularly simple task, he couldn't recall the last time he'd swabbed the deck himself. As Blackbeard's first mate, work like this was beneath him and had been for quite some time. This was a job for a cabin boy, not for him. Yet back and forth, back and forth he pushed the mop. In the back of his mind, he wondered if a bit of physical labor might help get him back into Ed's good graces.
By this time, the crew was awake and meandering about the ship. Black Pete, Swede, and Wee John seemed to be playing some kind of card game. Oluwande and Jim were eating a breakfast of fruit and toast nearby. Izzy kept a sharp eye on Lucius, who was sitting in the corner with his sketchbook. The quill in his hand was scratching at the page quickly. Every now and again, he'd catch the boy looking up at him with an arrogant smirk. If he's drawing me, I'm tossing him and his damn book overboard.
He did his best to ignore the crew, but that became a challenge when Frenchie appeared with his lute and began to sing.
"Ooooh, I knew a girl, way back when, whose favorite color was orange. I wanted to, catch her eye, so I bought her a. . . " The lute fell silent. ". . . I bought her a. . . umm. . . porange. . . snoran—"
"There's no rhyme for 'orange'," Izzy snapped.
Frenchie arched his brow. "Really? No, there has to be one."
"There isn't," he told the mop.
"Oh yeah? What about. . . .borange?"
His hands froze for a moment. Sighing, he looked up and glared at Frenchie's dark eyes. "The hell do you think that means?"
"I don't know." He shrugged. "But it rhymes!"
"It's gibberish, you made it up."
"So? All words are made up."
Izzy opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. He regretted saying anything at all. Borange. Idiot.
When he finally finished the deck, he decided to re-rig the sails. The sun rose higher in the sky and he worked until his bare hand was rough from the ropes. He'd managed to kill a fair amount of time thus far. As he tried to think of another task, someone shouted from above him.
"Pardon me, Mr. Hands!" yelled a familiar Scottish voice. Izzy looked up, squinting in the sun. Buttons was staring down at him from the crow's nest. "Ye haven't seen Karl anywhere, have ye?!"
"No!"
"You'll have to speak up!" Buttons bellowed. "I cannah hear ya!"
"I said 'no'!" Izzy yelled.
". . . .What?!"
Oh, for the love of— He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted out, "No! I haven't! Seen! Your fucking! BIRD!"
"I heard ye loud and clear that time!" Buttons told him. "Do you think ye might help me find him?!"
"No, I'm busy!" And before the other man could reply, Izzy marched away and tried to find something to do that didn't involve Buttons or Karl. Or anyone else, for that matter.
Below deck, he found Roach, Ivan, Fang, and Black Pete playing a game of badminton. Or rather, arguing about whether or not Pete's serve was out of bounds or not. Rolling his eyes at Ivan and Fang, he pressed on. After making a full lap of the ship, he still couldn't find a new way to pass the time. Filling the day with more chores felt demeaning. But beyond that he had. . . .nothing. A strange feeling started to consume him as he watched the crew entertain themselves. He felt. . . hollow. Empty.
Eventually, his boots made their way back to his room. Glancing at the dresser, he pulled open a drawer and began to reorganize the clothes inside. It wasn't that messy to begin with, but his hands were itching for some kind of job.
What've I become? he pondered. A few weeks ago, I was gutting an Englishmen with a flick of my wrist. Now look at me. I'm folding stuff.
A sudden sound briefly snapped him out of his self-loathing. He turned to the corner where the cat sat. Arching a brow, he watched as its body jumped with another noise. It was hoarse and followed by some wheezing. It had been making that noise often, now that he thought about it. Setting the shirts back in the drawer, he took a few steps closer. The hardtack, just like the cat, was exactly where he'd put it. Again, the cat shook with the sound. This time, Izzy realized what it reminded him of. He narrowed his eyes and looked closer at the kitten. Is it coughing?
As if to answer his question, it did it once more. This time, it sounded like a sneeze. You've got to be kidding. I've gone and brought a sick animal onboard. Izzy walked closer and dropped to a knee. His glove picked up the kitten and held it up. It squirmed in his grip, which was the most he'd really seen it move. Looking it over again, he noticed a trail of mucus coming from its eyes and nose. The cat coughed in his hand and he felt its body wheeze.
Normally, Izzy would have put the creature back down and gone about his day. But given that he had not a single thing to occupy him, a part of him jumped at the chance to do something. If that something happened to be healing a sick cat, well, so be it.
Setting it back down, he left the room before returning a moment later, a wet rag in hand. Seizing the cat again, he started to clean the gunk off of its face. A pair of paws started to bat and swat the air, clearly not enjoying what he was doing. He wiped the crust and dirt from its eyes before placing it on the floor again. The only thank you he got was a sneeze.
Izzy picked up the piece of untouched hardtack he'd given it the night before. Shit's not even good enough to be cat food, he thought. Grumbling, he left the room once again to get the cat something else to eat. Cleaning it off's pointless if the damn thing just starves.
He made his way down to the galley. Roach was nowhere to be found. He considered that a away the hardtack, he searched around for something else a cat could eat. Spying a banana that was more brown than yellow, he grabbed it before finding a small bowl. It was essentially mush when he peeled it, but he mashed it up a little more in the dish anyhow. He kept an eye out for anyone as he walked back to his room. Walking around with a bowl full of mushy fruit might look a little odd, and sick or not, this cat would remain a secret. He slipped back into his bedroom and placed the bowl in front of the cat. It stared at him like it was confused.
With that taken care of, Izzy went back to organizing the dresser. Every now and again, the cat would cough or sneeze, which was getting increasingly annoying. Once all of his clothes were sorted out again, he glanced back over to the corner. Not a bite of banana was missing. Irritated, Izzy peeled off his glove and tossed it on top of the dresser. Dropping down to his knees, he wrapped his fingers around the kitten and moved it closer to the bowl. Its pink nose was almost touching the food, but its mouth remained closed.
"Come on, you little shit." He grumbled. All the cat did was try to back out of his grip. Letting it go, he stuck a finger in the banana and smelled it, trying to figure out why it wasn't eating it. "There's nothing wrong with this," he said, holding his finger down to the kitten.
Listen to me, he thought. I've threatened men into handing over their ship's supplies in a matter of minutes, and now I'm convincing a damn cat to open its mouth. He looked up to the ceiling in disbelief. Fuck me. This is not the kind of shit I should be putting up w—
He drew his hand back suddenly at the strange sensation. Something like sandpaper had brushed against his finger. Izzy looked back down to the cat, confused. Slowly, he brought his finger up to it again. A tiny, pink tongue popped out of the kitten's mouth. The sandpaper feeling returned as he watched it start to lick the banana mush off of his fingertip. He grimaced slightly, but kept his hand where it was. Once there was nothing left, Izzy dipped his finger into the banana mush and offered it up again. This time, the cat started to eat it without as much hesitation. "Smart decision," he said. "Would've thrown you off the ship if you'd kept that up." After doing that a few times, the cat put its head back down and Izzy decided that was good enough for now. Wiping his hand on his thigh, he rose to his feet.
The rest of the day melted away. Somewhere in there, Buttons found Karl and Frenchie tried to convince everyone that "orange" and "door hinge" rhymed. Izzy disagreed, but he'd learned his lesson from earlier and kept his mouth shut. When they finally turned in for the night, he crept into one of the supply rooms and retrieved a small blanket. It was fairly thin and had a few small holes, but it would work. The kitten was still in the corner when he walked in, but it seemed more awake than it had been. He scooped it up and placed the blanket underneath it.
After getting it to take a little more food from his hand, he changed out of his clothes and got into his bed. For some reason, getting the cat to eat gave him a sense of accomplishment he'd been missing.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who enjoyed the start of this story! I've had OFMD/Izzy brain rot for months, and this story was the product of it, haha! From this chapter on, the plot will pick up more.
Also, a brief explanation, in case you're wondering, about the kitten's illness: It has an upper respiratory infection, which is essential like a cold for cats. So its nose is all stuffy, it has a cough, and it has mucus in it's eyes. Not necessarily fatal in most cases. The main issue with these from what I read is that cats use smell a lot in order to find food. So a stuffy nose means they won't eat much of anything, which obviously could be fatal. A good way to get them to eat when they're like this is hand feeding with small bits of food. Hence, Izzy Hands hand feeding was born!
See you all next Friday!