App Samples
1. Whitebeard's Memorial:
Marco ambled about town at a leisurely pace. No one was going anywhere, so there was no hurry. It was a fine spring day. Lightly breezy, big white puffy clouds drifting lazily by, and flowers everywhere. Had this been a spring island the Whitebeard pirates docked the Moby Dick at back home, the first division commander would have gone flying to drink it all in. He still thought of them that way; Whitebeard pirates, first division commander, not captain. Maybe he'd need to get over it soon, but he was still comfortable with being identified in that way. It wasn't wholly denial about the events that had transpired, but it was definitely an unwillingness to let go. Teach would mock him mercilessly, but Blackbeard could go to hell, sooner rather than later.
The grave was absent from this place, which was understandable, people didn't die here. And Marco had already met some people who were dead and brought back. Still, without his father here, he needed something to hold onto. Some sort of physical reminder that he could sit near and try to feel the calm safety he'd always gotten from the strongest man in the world. If he couldn't rely on getting that from the halberd and jacket hanging in the wind, then Marco would just have to make something. Just how much he needed to thank Shanks sunk in as Marco stared at various flower shops, baskets of overflowing flowers and was at a complete loss on how to do this. In his grief, he'd been unable to put one together for Ace and Whitebeard; Shanks had helped, and it meant everything to him. Here, Marco was floundering again. What kind of flower represented the manliest person he'd ever known?
He gave up on flowers for and decided to check out the bar. The sounds of people drinking and laughing were familiar. Almost as much as sailing and flying to the phoenix pirate. And more importantly, they reminded Marco of his father. The only times he could remember Whitebeard setting down the sake or rum were when Marco's Pops was busy fighting someone. Even with IVs in him and nurses telling him to drink less, Whitebeard never stopped. Marco leaned against the doorway, his head tilted to one side to listen better, which made him look even more bird-like than usual. There wasn't anyone he recognized in there, and he wasn't in the mood for talking anyway. Still, it gave him an idea though and he went around back to see if he could borrow any empty bottles. And if not, then he'd just try to steal them.
A good stack collected, Marco moved on to find a secluded rooftop to put it all. It didn't have the same effect as the jacket and halberd combination, but the bottles instead of flowers were a nice touch that Marco was quite proud of. It was a small thing, having a grave there to talk to. Marco didn't even intend to talk to it. And with the dead still living in Luceti, he held out a small hope he'd see his father again in person. Still, the memorial gave him a small measure of comfort. He sat down cross-legged next to it and leaned his back against the upraised ledge. What would Whitebeard say he should do? It was a troubling question, but with the memorial there, it seemed easier to think on.