Play@YSDC

Hoping that the light along the beach is not too far for the sound to carry, Florence calls "Marise!"

Laurent also calls out to the figure as he hurries toward it.

Their cries sound flat in the warm night air and the far away light continues to bob slightly in the dark cove of Anse Douce.

They hurry past Pointe Pierre onto the sand of the sheltered cove. The lantern beam picks out lumps of coral of assorted shapes and sizes, magnifying them, creating a fantasy world of shadows. Hovering briefly over clumps of seaweed, crabs scurrying from the light.

The illumination touches a small-bodied, long-legged bird, seemingly asleep on its feet. It springs to life and goes racing down the shore ahead of them with its wings outspread but rigid. Not a pelican. Much smaller than that. But for some reason it causes them to think of pelicans.

Sweating with the exertion, the breeze off the sea is so light it barely cools their faces in the close, humid air. The waves are just silver ripples, touching the shore with less noise than their ragged breathing.

-----

Drawing nearer to the bobbing light they can make out two figures, one taller, the other shorter. Picking their way slowly across the sand.

"Marise!" Florence screams again, continuing to run.

Laurent keeps running too.

The taller figure raises a hand, in greeting or response. The smaller one seems to shrink down and hang back.

OOC,You can roll to see if you recognise them from a distance, 1d6 unless you risk an Insight die

Laurent instantly recognizes the figures.

Even in the dark, and at this distance, Florence couldn't fail to recognise her daughter Marise. Laurent can also tell it is her. Beside Marise the taller figure looks to be a man in uniform, in his shirt sleeves, the bulk of his jacket wrapped around the girl beside him. His outline suggests the Armée de St Joseph, whose khaki-uniformed soldiers are the closest thing St Joe has to a police force.

Something is not right about the way that Marise moves. Intermittently the uniformed figure seems to pull her along. The rest of the time she drags her feet. She seems smaller, even for such a slight girl there is something shrunken about her frame. Florence is sure something has happened. Something bad.

Getting closer, they recognise the young commander of the local army post in Dame Marie, Lieutenant Roger Etienne. His face is friendly but concerned as he strides forward, almost dragging Marise along. His usually stiff and tightly styled moustache sags a little.

She is cloaked in shadows but it is quickly clear that under the jacket she is naked. Laurent averts his gaze in embarrassment. Marise does not look happy, or at least, her expression does not change, does not register recognition or joy at seeing Florence, Fabrice, or Laurent. Her eyes seem empty, her usually dark, rich skin, gold in the sun, now looks dull, flat, almost grey in the anaemic light of the moon.

'Bonsoir' says Lt Etienne. Marise says nothing, her gaze downcast.

The faint hint of night-blooming jasmine has been hanging in the air of Anse Douce. As Marise and the Lieutenant arrive, the jasmine is overwhelmed by a strong smell of salt and the sea. Marise's hair hangs lank and damp. Contrasting with its dull and shadowy appearance, there is something in her hair, a slide or hairclip, reflecting back the pale light with a bright, glistening hue.

Laurent,Marise has changed, changed since he last saw her only a day or so ago. Changed in a fundamental way that he can't articulate. The way the moonlight seems to shy away from her outline, the night gathering around her in shadows. Her usually hazel eyes are a deep green, like seawater and for a moment he has an impression of her submerged underwater, crying out, gasping for air. ----- As Laurent has rolled a 6 he needs to check his Insight - roll 1d6 and if you roll higher than 1 his Insight goes up to 2

Florence skids to her knees in front of her daughter - part of her had been nursing anger, but that emotion is chased off by the horror of seeing Marise in this condition. "Oh, ma petite!" She pulls her shawl off and makes to wrap it round Marise. She burns to ask what happened, but knows that should wait. "Let us take you home now."

Laurent miraculously manages to keep it together. "I think she has been in the sea," he says. "She may have been drowning. Her eyes have changed color too. They're green now."

Florence takes a moment to look into her daughter's face. "My poor girl..." With the impact of Laurent's revelation, she can't stop herself adding, "What has happened to you?"

Lt Etienne shakes his head, 'Non, I do not think she has been in the water, I found her sitting naked on the beach, staring out to sea'. In a meticulous accent, mixing French and Creole, he says 'I came down to Anse Douce looking for les jeunes using drugs, marigwana, and found her on the sand, in the dark. Je suis désolé, I could not find her clothes.' He look a little abashed at the admission.

Florence looks into Marise's face but her daughter doesn't meet her gaze, just stares past her, zombie-like. It is strange but her eyes do seem greener, although they've always been a hazel colour with green notes, probably just the moonlight.

Getting more agitated, Fabrice grabs Marise's hand and pulls her towards him and says harshly, 'Ti fi estipid! What have you been doing?' but Marise says nothing.

Lt Etienne looks uncomfortable at her father manhandling her and mutters, 'All she will say is she wanted to see the sea.'

"I don't think whatever happened was her fault," says Laurent. "We should speak to her gently, and bring her home. Marise? It's Laurent. You're safe now. We're here to help you."

"Come with me, ma petite, I will take you home," Florence says, with a sharp glare at Fabrice. She rises, but keeps an arm around Marise, and tries to guide the girl back toward the town.

The five of them walk back towards Pointe Pierre, Florence with her arm tight around Marise and Lt Etienne lagging slightly behind the rest.

As they approach the pier the drumming is much closer now and they can see a procession of people, lit by many lanterns, moving down towards the shore. Some of them carry things on their shoulders, a wooden basket, and what looks like a white sheep with its feet trussed. The chanting has stopped but the night is filled with a rhythmic thunder as men play great tanbou barrel drums that they haul along with them. Accompanied by single note vaccine trumpets, and crashing bamboo sticks. The noise is hypnotic and disorientating.

OOC,You can roll to figure out what's going on - I'd say it is no one's profession so human die 1d6 unless you risk Insight

Laurent isn't sure what's happening.

OOC,Rolled a 1.

Florence has no idea what's happening, and instinctively maneuvers herself and Marise as if to shield her daughter from the crowd.

Lt Etienne is from a more privileged St Joe mulatto background and seems very uncomfortable with the sights and sounds of the procession.

-----

Both Florence and Laurent recognise that this is a Vodou ceremony. They are unable to catch sight of any priests, male houngans or female mambos. The wooden basket is full of food and drink and along with the sheep will be an offering to whatever loa is being celebrated.

Laurent,Laurent thinks the ceremony looks to be one to Agoué, loa of the sea and a common focus of worship in Dame Marie. The wooden basket is actually a little model of a boat which will be taken out by the fishermen at dawn and set adrift as the sheep is thrown overboard and drowned. While he can't see any houngans or mambos he does notice old Pierre Labas under a sacred malou tree, laughing and playing his guitar with the palm of his hand like a drum. His black and white potcake dog running in circles around his feet. He gives Laurent a big grin. ----- While watching Pierre, Laurent catches sight of something behind him, it looks like a pale figure running down the beach, from the direction of Anse Douce, he's not just pale, Laurent thinks he's naked.

Florence gives the procession a respecful berth, but she's fixated on getting Marise home.