Chris MacDonald

The flight from Cancun International to Azul was a little over half an hour at cruising speed. Chris had flown it so many times he was reasonably confident he could do it blindfolded and include the water landing at Isla Zafrio just for thrills. Under thirty minutes was possible if he pushed it, but there was never any need and the climb up to thinner air at high altitude was hard on the turbine. No one on the islands was in that big of a hurry. This was an off day though. Normally he flew up every Tuesday and Thursday, loaded the mail run and if passenger service was busy, he might even make two trips. Wednesdays were usually a jaunt over to Belize City where he’d already picked up some survey equipment and dropped it back at Isla Ramilo. Now what would technically be a chartered flight and his third international border for the day was for the same customer, Miguel Cardnas, picking up one passenger and her assortment of luggage and gear that filled out his useful weight limit. In aviation accounting, it was a big score, but the Cardenas paid without reservation. Chris mused a little at the thought, glancing at the instruments in the exact same rhythm he did multiple times, nearly every day: fuel, speed, heading, and so on ending with an eye on the delicate temperature of the internals. Such was his feel on the yoke, the motion of the plane beneath him and the furious hum of the prop that he knew what they would read even before looking.

Decades ago, the Flores set up the MacDonald’s and Era to be Azul’s only aviation service and there was fair partiality there. The Flores would always get priority, but he could feel those days coming to an end even before recent events. The Cardenas could keep the prop turning just as much as anyone else and all the islands could sense their growing momentum in the business of Azul. The equipment he’d picked up earlier was for the winery and it was becoming more common for Miguel to fill out large blocks of the aircraft’s schedule with complex parts for the distilleries or even simple filters for the equipment that worked the land. The ability to get resources to the islands, sometimes on the same day, was indispensable and Chris rather liked the variety over the standard routes his dad worked out with Esteban Flores years prior. He’d been to Panama, the Dominican, Mexico City and once to Havana and these weren’t pickups, they were deliveries, exports. No one else within Azul was involved in this level of commerce outside of tourism. His current passenger wasn’t quite so exotic though, dressed about as casually as anyone else flying out of the US, meaning only a few steps past looking like they just got out of bed. She was easy enough on the eyes though and started off quiet, however she seemed to overcome any anxiety about the time he turned the nose south. There was a little relief when the handoff came from Cancun departure to Merida control and she had to pause so he could talk back to ATC.

The horizon beyond the nose was nothing but blue water and gentle evening-gray cloud for the moment. Isla Ramilo would come into view first and the Mexican coastline was visible to the west with waves churning ashore pushed by an easterly wind that buffeted the plane lightly. Iris was talking up a storm to the point that he was thinking about “accidentally” muting her mic, but that was bad practice. Even chatty or annoying passengers were another set of eyes that could catch something even a veteran flyer might miss, even if only by chance. He nodded and agreed as she rattled away while his eyes, shielded behind sunglasses, seemed to scan the airspeed and GPS position more often. As was often the case, Chris was the first and last person from Azul that many islanders saw in their journeys and there was a regular rhythm to their comings and goings, though he was sure it had been at least a few years since he’d dropped off Iris on this exact route in reverse. A fact that she quickly confirmed, but then dropped altogether preferring to talk more about the weather, dolphins and any number of other rapid-fire topics; vaguely alluding occasionally to the flurry of unintended circumstances that had landed her into his right seat. She was jabbering on about el nino or la nina or some other nonsense while Chris again glanced at the ETA to the next waypoint: the airspace boundary for Azul, at which time Merida would jump back on the radio and release him from their control. At that point he would normally start a slow descent with Isla Ramilo right on the horizon, but he had a better idea.

When control came up he acknowledged casually and began trimming out the secondary controls. Those right in front of Iris that moved before her with all of his inputs. Once he had maxed out all the tabs, making her controls soft enough that he could counter anything she did, he jumped back on the mic before she could continue. “Alright, you ready to fly us the rest of the way?” He said with a feigned tone of sincerity and a smirk, nodding towards the yoke right in front of her.

@Fading Memory

Dr Katrazyna "Katska" Nadezhda Kowalewska

United Kingdom to Main Island

D-18 - United Kingdom

“Dr Kowalewska” called out an unsure looking secretary as she read the name out loud, “Katska, just get in there the boss needs to see you” She said with a small smile to the dark haired woman reading a romance novel on a sofa. Lilly Ortega has been roommates with the Polish now Doctor when they were grad students, though she had chosen to work the office side after finding her boyfriend and now fiance wanting a more stable life, Katrazyna had chosen to remain out and yet to put down solid roots, renting, expeditions and so. She had risen higher but Lilly was honestly in her own mind happier taking choices she made.

“You been able to say it since we got our masters”
Relied the taller dark haired Polish woman who was wearing a normal corporate safe outfit skirt suit with a tailored waistcoat at first glance, except for more chunky leather boots, the little bats in pale grey on her white blouse closer up and a long dark deep red coat that rested next to her, it was still England…even in a meant to be warm day it was raining. She could express her style and still fit the dress code. “Meet you at lunch, down by the Poseidon statue? Old Jims?”

“True enough, sure, but I have to call my florist to make sure they got the right shade of yellow. Marcus thinks they're all the same… Closed for redo, The Huntsman does a good meal.” She said with fake sigh and gestured to the office door as was sitting in for a secretary with an emergency vet appointment and had a quiet morning of paperwork despite her higher job title.

“Dr Kowalewska thank you for coming in, We have to explain a change of plans. What do you know about Azul or the SS Vika”...

D-11 - Flight to Azul

Azul, her first sights was a small island nation in distance, bright blue sees, the main Island she guessed by the larger buildings though the pilot had taken her on a little bit a of a diversion saying that there was an bad current, a side wind today and needed to swing about to land on a new approach after a short radio call. A distant island looked far more green, less concrete and so anyway as she looked out windows of a sea plane that was slowly turning and banking to come into land in maybe 5 minutes once the ferry was clear as wake dissipated safely. Everyone seemed not to mind and her bags were packed down in the hold under a cargo net. She was not the only passenger but it only sat 6 and you were pushed up against someone or something. It rattled a little but the Pilot said that was normal mechanical controls and aircraft being a character all of their own.

Kat had already waited, the flight had taken off at…”Island time” after a last minute parcel of mail was loaded, something about the mayor dying, and something about people sending more mail to relatives. She just wanted to take a cold shower that afternoon, flying from the arctic to the UK and then the Gulf of Mexico was certainly a change of climates. She would enjoy an iceberg right then.

“We will be landing soon, make sure your passports are ready. Customs will meet you at the dock, you can collect your bags after. Please remain strapped in till we are safely tied up at the dock. Thankyou for flying with us today.” A cool male voice came over the head sets as they dropped lower and faster to the bright blue ocean. The flight was hardly luxurious but the plane was clean, and the pilot quietly confident as any pilot she had flown with.

D-0 - Early Morning.

Island life took some getting used to, a lot in fact for the woman used to working long hours, ship based rotations and shifts. No one was in a hurry and that she had to accept though it was not natural to Katrazyna to just… be well, alone with her thoughts. Pink trainers sounded softly beneath her feet as she ran along the beach boards, dressed down to a Skort and a sports bra. It was too warm even at this time for her to keep pace in more having found a good route a few days ago to exercise. It was otherwise Yoga on the deck of her “home” , a chartered boat in the Marina. Sunscreen she had by the bucket load though. Maybe beach Yoga tomorrow for some variety.

The paler woman slowed as she hit sand, long back hair was tied back and her prescription sunglasses reflected the light. Upon landing she had found out the Mayor had died, it was a strange mood and people seemed to have stopped entirely across the island or at least paused. Just finding the person to talk to at “city hall” was slower, it took a week to locate the 1944 records she requested as old enough to forget and one assumed she was after the far older and more famous wreck to begin with and brought wrong information. The Mayor's death however meant she could only access the public archive and her application for other information was stuck with heads of department and others who seemed to be less willing to make decisions right now. From what she gathered the man had been Mayor for a long time and this was a massive potential shift in local politics. Major decisions were on hold and people waited. There was little gossip and most were content to wait for people to announce more.

Kat had made more progress on her fitness routine than her mystery and suspected that was by design. They had badgered her to take time off, easy jobs or spend a year or more on a “home” assignment and she had stayed on expeditions. So, they had…sent her to Azul!

She did feel better running in the sunshine of a morning with a sea breeze on her skin was an amazing way to start her day she had to admit. Azul might not be the worst enforced holiday for the now local independent researcher.

Waving to a passing person as she made her way on her lap, the loop earbuds she wore pumped out a mix of 90's dance, rock and Tatu today. The fact they were bright hot pink was a joke of her brother to his well known goth sister, she wore them anyway just to prove him wrong and he had got her some really good ones too that made up entirely for the colour. She had a matching set of headphones with light up cat ears, regular Earbuds courtesy of others. They knew what to get her but gave shit as good as they got like siblings tended to do.

The lack of large cars on the island was nice for her runs, yeah she had a E bike with panniers on boat if needed like shopping but it was safe to go for a run and not be choked by exhaust like London was. Passing preparations for some kind of event Kat took her turn past a beach side cafe that was yet to open and headed back to the Marina for a shower and breakfast. The fruit was really good here with some local yoghurt and bits n bobs she had found at the shops.

D0 - Evening.

As evening rolled round Kat rubbed her eyes and adjusted her glasses, putting the large reference book entitled “American Convoys, 1st June 1944 to December 31st. down on a large map of the area, US Military weather charts from 1944 and more scattered all over the table along with several pages of notes, notepads etc. only confirming what she knew and what they expected to be there. It was a start that the SS Vika could be out in the blue. Closing down the laptop as her music still played over the boats internal speakers pumping out Romanian pop music she had randomly found on Spotify.

Deciding she did not want to be on her own tonight, too much thinking and thoughts that she did not want to face. Kat got up stretched as much as the boat allowed. It took some getting used to sleeping and living on the boat, waves lapped gently against the Hull and it rocked softly all the time, never still. You could tell just by watching the top of your mug of coffee.

Remembering she purchased a dress the week before, the island was more traditional than some places but did not entirely lack modernity either. Her mobile phone worked and she got netflix on the Internet even if it was a little slower and lower definition than used to. Dark blue with lemon pattern, it was cute and she had got it on a whim from a shop run by an old lady who made them. Even better it was technically expenses due to cost and fact she needed to acclimatise to the local climate. The woman had even for a small sum had her stand up on a raised platform and picked it up the next day when she tucked the waist in a little and adjusted the hem and straps a little to suit.

The old woman had commented on her tattoos but she had replied they carried a meaning, an achievement, an aspect of herself and her heritage than just mere ink on skin like some. That had been least taken without further comment.



Her bracelet was a little less traditional as a darker goth skull on a paracord bracelet, her red traditional necklace and a silver Pandora charm bracelet that had been a gift from her former partner and she had added to it over the years after. Flats added she dropped down off the boat only bothering with light makeup, it was still warm to go out bare armed even if a little cool later on, she was far more used to that than the heat.

Heading out into the wider town, Kat looked around and wondered what to do. She recalled having spent a night or two at a small ad hoc bar of foreigners that had told her about events locally though as they said she chose a hell of a time to arrive. Deaths, future elections, she just wanted to find a shipwreck and avoided getting stuck into the theories, though she did say it felt a strange kind of tense at times and they tried to hide it but it was notable regardless.

An older hotel manager who had been on the island for a decade did say however quietly and without gossip that tensions seemed higher than they had been between major families since he arrived. Like the tingling feeling before a storm broke. it might miss them entirely or slam home if one could predict it.

adventure awaited however as she left the Marina feeling better for the fresh air after being cooped up confirming research.

@Pilatus

Iris was nervous, and try as she might to cover up the sensation it itched beneath her skin incessantly. Words flowed forth from her lips with a natural cadence, but the truth of the matter is that she herself was hardly listening to them as they bubbled organically from within. The initial noise of the flight and the vibrations of the propellors had done well at soothing her, but as their trip increased in altitude and shortened the distance between Iris and her father, the words began.

"...And so, it's about the dolphins, you see. Professor El-Rehman has been funded to study them, particularly since they seem drawn to Azul..."

She shifted in the seat of the Cessna, her legs shifting and stretching in what space they could claim. She constantly looked over at Chris as the words meandered from her lips. With all the equipment packed in there was only one natural place for Iris herself to sit; up front, up close. Her nose wriggled every so often, the smells of the plane, and of Chris and herself, assaulting her senses. She drummed a hand upon the thigh of her sweatpants and shifted again, scratching at her calf with the heel of her sneakers. Another shift in the tributary of her one sided conversation.

"...And yeah, Miami, it was nice. But you've probably been everywhere, right? God knows I'd have flown farther than just to the edge of this horizon if I were you. Anyway, the beaches there were nice. Scenery was good. This past spring was absolutely killer, this friend of mine had just bought a drone, so we were laying out on the beach and..."

She fidgeted again, her anxiety now wriggling up her spine. Her hands moved with it, tugging at the collar of a baggy shirt that couldn't quite stay on her shoulders. She looked out the window and down at the sea, scanning the distance as she filled the conversational space with verbal white noise. Isla Ramilo was nearly visible in the distance. She squinted, and felt the tingle of dread finally creep all the way up her neck and into her scalp. She shifted the headset on her head, scratching a hand through loose and wild hair to tug it back from her face and use the headset as a hairband, keeping the bangs out of her eyes. Before she could continue speaking she had to pause for a moment. Chris had spoken and she wasn't really expecting that. Nor was she really listening.

"--What-- oh, me? Really?"

She looked back over to him, staring for a few moments into his sunglasses. She met his smirk with a grin.

"Mm, brave man." Her hands slowly reached out and braced on the yoke, tentatively wiggling them slightly to test for any dead zone in the steering. She makes a breathy noise of indeterminate emotional origin at the negligible rolling of the plane at her own action. "--Alright, talk me through this, big guy. As much as I wish I was flying the opposite direction, I'd still rather land than explode in the ocean. I'm all ears."

Her smile reached her eyes, a genuine and not-so-feigned smile of mild thrill relaxing onto her features. She didn't quite seem to realize that her efforts of trying to hold still were already causing the plane to roll ever so slowly to the right.

She overheard it a few times. the old-timers, Americans of course, remarked amidst chuckles that the image of Taryn being chauffeured around Isla Zafrio whether on the water by dinghy or on land by cart, sitting with her usual proper posture was reminiscent of some boomer flick, Driving Miss Daisy. She had never seen the movie and was only vaguely familiar. It was true, she did prefer not to drive around the islands, however that was simply being practical, particularly when she had no other crew onboard. Apparently though, something to do with her favorite straw hat and her rich accent really set it off and this was a regular point of comedy at her expense. In response, she bought an even bigger hat, bordering on ridiculous, though still not anything she didn’t believe she could pull off and today her genteel countenance was even more upright; more striking than usual. Today she had a plan. Some might even call it a scheme. She smirked a little bit at the thought and held the brim of the hat over the angle of the evening sun as the dinghy angled happily over the calm waters of the lagoon. They might think her Miss Daisy, but she could give them Scarlett O’Hara. The small craft slid up easily on the soft beach and she daintily hopped over the side, thanking her driver in English. Fiddly-dee. She thought to herself and strode up the beach.

The sand was still hot underfoot, but it was a short walk into the canopy of palm trees that shaded Pat’s Bar. She stepped past a few sparse remnants from another lazy day: blankets, coolers and a couple deck chairs, most occupied by Pat’s regulars that were easily twice her age, minimum. The urge to scoff was right beneath the unamused glance she wore behind large-framed sunglasses and was her usual expression whenever she had anything to do with the bar. Still being an American citizen, Pat’s made her presence something of an enigma. On paper, she was more American than anyone in there and it was a matter of fact that she liked to remind them; making her feel superior to mock those that had, as she called it, “pulled the ripcord” on America. She had about a dozen or so pointed jabs that they found about as amusing as she did being called, “Miss Daisy”. As she stepped through the corridor, music played softly from weathered speakers and the scent of American-styled grilled food truly did smell fantastic. They could at least cook, though her lip curled a bit at the sound of Stevie Nicks' raspy voice. These people would listen to the same fifty songs until they croaked. She found the bar unattended, which wasn’t unusual. No one really “worked” at Pat’s.

“Oh, hi Taryn…” A voice welcomed, stepping from behind a bamboo partition.

“Hello,” Taryn replied, cordially enough and somewhat disarmed. She recognized the calm and cheerful voice of Dana MacDonald as she slid her sunglasses away. Like Taryn, she was only wearing a tank top and shorts. Everyone’s clothing was in some way beaten or faded by the ever-present blast of the sun.

“Nice hat.” Dana said with a smile somewhere between knowing the joke on both sides and being welcoming all at once. The woman was genuinely too nice and Taryn felt herself having to relax. She wished she had a mother with as much simple class.

“Thank you… is Cori here?” Taryn asked, getting to the point. She could see the slight look of surprise come across the other woman. Cordelia “Cori” Flores was one of the few dual citizens, but a Flores first and not exactly a regular patron for any reason.

“Haven’t seen her,” Dana replied with a shrug. “Can I get you something?”

“Just cerveza,” Taryn said, looking around. “I’ll sit out back and wait for her.”

Dana pulled a bottle of Sol from an icebox behind the counter. “Are you gonna come sing with the band this weekend?” She asked casually. The bottle top came away with a quick hiss and she slid it across the worn hardwood.

“I don’t think so.” Taryn snorted, taking a sip and pretending to be unfazed by the question. It was often asked.

“It would be more fun if you’re there,” Dana added with a hopeful smile. “The men will appreciate it a lot.” She pulled a bottle out for herself, shaking her head at the thought of the yet unnamed assemblage they called a band.“God knows, they really need a good alto…”

“I’m not singin’ in your hootenanny, Dana.” It was the nicest tone she could manage, like someone turning down a religious tract.

“It makes them feel young again…” The older woman added gently.

“I bet it does.”

“You’ll understand one day…” Dana said with an easy confidence, but let the words trail off, sensing there was no more ground to be gained this time. She did seem to truly care and wanted everyone to get along. Taryn thought she had designs for her son, the pilot, but the chances of that happening were about the same as pigs flying alongside their precious airplane. Taryn gave a polite smile with a shrug and moved back outside to a table in the shade.

@Almalthia

Jewel Cardenas

Jewel's morning couldn't begin without two essential rituals: a long session in the family home's dance studio, followed by a refreshing dip in the ocean that seemed to wash away all the soreness and tension from her fatigued body. She had just completed the former with more vigor and intensity than usual. A heavy cloud loomed over her mind—not close enough to start shuttering windows and doors, but menacing enough to signal that uncertainty and trouble might be near. The stress within her unfurled with each leap into the air, each stretch of a relevé, and an endless series of pirouettes that would send even the toughest of men to the nearest trash bin.

It had been a week since she’d returned to the island to attend the mayor’s funeral and reunite with her community for Azul Days. Her last visit was nearly eight months ago, at Christmas, which she knew was far too long to go without seeing her family. She missed them, especially after noticing how her father’s hair had gone from salt-and-pepper to mostly just salt since she’d last seen him—a testament to the long, hard hours he’d been putting into the business. The very business she was supposed to have taken over by now, so he could enjoy at least some semblance of retirement. Guilt gnawed at her every minute since she’d been home, but the release she experienced with her morning rituals was just enough to take the edge off.

The familiar scent of the ocean breeze drifted through the open windows, mingling with the faint aroma of aged wood and old stone that always lingered in the dance studio. Jewel paused for a moment, letting the cool air kiss her skin, her thoughts drifting like the waves outside. The island was home, but it also held the weight of expectations she wasn't sure she could ever meet. The looming festival of Azul Days, usually a time of celebration, felt different this year—more like a crossroads she wasn’t ready to face.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, startling her out of her thoughts. She looked up from where she sat on the floor, sipping from a water bottle and letting a breeze from the open window cool her off. It was her brother Rafael, to whom she raised an eyebrow. “¿Qué pasó?” she responded.

“Don’t forget we’re picking Iris up from her flight later today. Don’t forget,” he said, pointing a finger at her, then tapping the side of his head. His tone was casual, but the reminder was laced with the unspoken expectation that she would be there, just as she was expected to be everywhere else these days. She barely had a chance to grunt in acknowledgment before he was gone. Jewel sighed, taking a moment to process his words. Iris was coming home, another reminder that things were shifting, that change was in the air. The thought made her stomach tighten, but she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the tasks ahead. She took his absence as an opportunity to get up and change into her swimsuit while she contemplated the day ahead. Yes, they needed to pick up Iris this afternoon, and she also needed to make a trip to the grocery store with her mother to prepare for the upcoming celebrations.

Azul Days was fast approaching, and while it wasn't spoken out loud, there was always a silent competition to see which prominent family on the island could throw the best party. Jewel's mom really, really didn’t like to disappoint. Though the start of the festival was still days away, the sheer amount of food they needed to order would require a few extra shipments from the mainland. There was no denying it was extravagant, but Miguel made sure all the money spent on the parties was spent at local businesses to help bolster the economy. Supporting their community was top of mind for the Cardenas family, and sustaining and growing their neighbors would always be a priority.

Jewel had changed into her white bikini and could see the sparkling water from the window, enticing her to relish in its blue delight. She grabbed a towel from her bag and made the short journey from the main house to their private beach on the northwestern side of Isla Ramilo. Wasting no time, she pulled her hair down from its claw clip and dropped it on the white sandy beach, along with her light blue towel. A graceful swan dive into the lapping waves sent her submerged into the water, resurfacing several feet away from where she entered, wading deeper and deeper into the sea. Today’s cleansing took a little longer than usual, but as she arrived back at the beach, she felt a renewed sense of purpose, letting the hope that she would know what to do when the time was right guide her into the rest of her day.

Dr Katrazyna "Katska" Nadezhda Kowalewska

Kat had been walking for a while longer than she should and began to realise she took a wrong turn somewhere. She did think about turning back but the Island was so that she was bound to recognise a landmark, the main Island was big but not that big one could get hopelessly lost on the “main town” area at least. In London,, she would have turned back but this was Azul and curiosity got a little better of her sense and caution.

Her mind had drifted on her walk as it often did much to her discomfort on Azul, she had been walking down a far cooler beach in Scotland with a bench overlooking the North Sea when her 2 year relationship ended as her plans and theirs did not match up, she could not settle down and it caused a make or break…kat chose to join Olympus and with future prospects of heading out far afield. That caused one last kiss and one last look before they took separate paths back both physically and choice. Did she regret it? She had made that choice and stuck with it since she was 22, 7 years later she was now 29, a doctorate to her name, known in her own circles. What would her life have been if she made the other choice?

Shaking her head as she saw all things. Two paths, two routes and a choice. of all the places and things this was just the fates being cruel. “kurwa” she cursed as she hobbled slightly to a larger rock, the nibbling probbly of a smaller one that hurt her foot while not looking properly. Running though several curses in Ukrainian, Spanish and German she checked that there was no blood or so, just pain.

Drifting again she remembered working on a more humorous moment when she did pass her seamanship courses and Kat was fully qualified to pilot the boat at Marina in day and night. However that lesson she had executed every manoeuvre perfectly…but for getting Port and Starboard wrong so she did every move in reverse effectively.

Fate was kinder to her it seemed as she saw a sign for a B&B with cafe, a smaller slot saying open late. That was curious and she hopped up, felt her foot then stood more cautiously and followed the sign that led to a pretty typical older traditional island building, white painted timber overlooking the sea with soft sands and local vegetation sprouting up around it in a controlled but not strangled wildness. She would have to draw this place another day and snap a photo to remind her.

Places like this made her feelings of being forced to take on the job so far from the action entirely moot, this was like a painting more than a place.

Deciding to see as she had come this far and it did not give her any red flags, her gut was calm and seemed to not throw any warnings at her. She trusted that so headed up the weather beaten old stairs that met the sand, maintained but with a little creek as she climbed. pushing a wood and glass door open into a small what might be a … cafe? Maybe, it was pretty homely and hoped she chose the correct door but this seemed only one.

“Hola estas abierta” Kat asked, “Hello, are you open?” in Spanish, not her best Language but passable and English. The Spanish was improving slowly with regular use though even though she spoke more traditional vs the local dialect. Her accent made Spanish with her accent that remained still fairly Polish with a small slice of western Ukrainian a intresting combination. Kat waited and found herself a seat near what was looking to be a coffee machine and a counter to rest her foot. It was not hurting, just sore and hoped she did not have to walk the way she came straight away.

“Mi español todavía está un poco oxidado” She said apologising as her Spanish was still a little rusty and this was the most use it had in years since her move to Azul. The taller woman sighed contently as she rested her foot and waited. One thing she had learned, everyone just worked at their own pace here and a worker might have heard her and choose to spend 5 minutes reading or finishing a cigarette before coming out.

Mention
@Sadie

Chris MacDonald

Chris gave a nod of confidence seeing Iris take the controls. Her broad smile was infectious and was the kind of reaction that was most satisfying. There was nothing he would let her do that could cause any harm. Just to share a little bit of the art of flight with someone willing to put apprehension aside was one of the best parts of being a pilot. The joy of flying was natural and something so few got to experience apart from the sterile repetition of loading themselves into a bus in the sky. It was tragic. He often considered his belonging in a time and place like Azul where the mystique of man and machine together still existed. “So what we’re gonna do is go ahead and start our descent.” He said, a little instructional in his tone, but relaxed all the same. Smoothly he countered her eastward drift with the rudder and eased the throttle back, the action putting Isla Ramilo back on the nose as the engine’s monstrous torque subsided. The plane’s attitude still wasn’t level, but he continued unbothered: “From where we are now it’s actually pretty easy, but let’s level the wings first.” He wiggled the yoke in his hand gently to get her attention and guide her hands to mimic his instructions.

Giving a passenger a chance at the controls was about the oldest pilot trick in the book, but it worked almost every single time and interestingly he found women tended to take to it more naturally whereas men would grab the column and suddenly feel like they had to be John Glenn. With the ladies there was more appropriate caution and he could see the balance forming in Iris’ glance. A mix of challenge, fear and determination. It was a good look for her and seeing her settle down and not hold a deathgrip, he reached over next to her leg and trimmed the controls again to give her more response. “Doing fine,” He said, watching the horizon of blue water settle evenly. ”Don’t worry about the rudder pedals or the throttle, I’ll handle those.” He pointed to the vertical speed indicator, not expecting her to follow, but more as a reassurance he was paying close attention. “We’re already descending at a steady rate,” He continued. “All you need to do is keep the island inside the prop disc and we’ll be right where we need to be, so keep your wings level and aim the nose towards the island. Once we get around five-hundred feet, I’ll take over.”

They came in over Playa Diamante just before the altimeter ticked under five-hundred ASL. Chris watched Iris’ wrapt expression and the odd twitch of her nose that seemed to follow intense concentration before he broke the trance and took the controls back. She looked both disappointed and relieved. “Not bad.” He said, looking over the nose as Isla Ramilo now moved underneath them. The shape of the island curved away and they were over the natural lagoon. A few boats sat calmly at anchor and he caught a glimpse of their shadow passing over the neatly rowed fields of the Cardenas Winery. From there his eyes looked up for three flags atop the main house of the hacienda he used to judge the wind before glancing back down at the boathouse coming up on his left. They came by low and leveled off again. Chris craned his neck a bit, seeing no one. Miguel’s marina staff were likely still on siesta he thought, turning his wrist to check the time, however he knew the sound of his prop would quickly rouse them. “ We’ll do a quick circuit and make sure the lane is clear, we don’t wanna run over a swimmer.” He joked.

Gentle waves were visible rippling under the evening sun and the clear water was no more disturbed than a bathtub. Chris glanced at his watch again and pointed over the engine to a regal looking estate, just on the edge of waterfront Puro Parque. “There’s an old lady that lives in that house right there past the jetty,” He said with a smirk. “And she absolutely hates this airplane.”

Azul had no ATC of any kind and other aircraft were rare, but he still scanned the area as they zipped by the house close enough it was easy to make out the irate resident down below shaking her fist next to a swimming pool before the portside float came up and he banked into a lazy upward turn that trimmed off the excess speed. As they ascended there was enough attitude in the wing to feel the pull of gravity and look down Iris’ window to see nothing but varying shades of candy blue water across the lagoon. They climbed and cut a sharp picture as the plane stood smartly on its side, gently carrying through the arc of the turn. As the nose came down they were pointed back parallel to the dock and Chris’ movements became more purposeful as he lined up just past a single buoy that denoted his “runway” for Isla Ramilo. It was clear. He permitted himself a tiny grin of satisfaction at his handiwork. Hemingway wrote books, Michael Jordan played basketball and Chris MacDonald flew airplanes. It was that simple. One hand reached down again to drop the flaps and turn on the hazard lights. A gentle flair and the floats kissed the water, skimming over the top like a skier as they crossed back in front of the marina.

@Fading Memory

The Grey and blue boat sliced through the water. Behind them the array of the Islands Azule. At the helm the linen dressed captain of The Cheer. As he turned the helm of the ship it skipped across the waves of the open water. Causing the five people in the front of the boat to grab any handhold they could as a spray of water came up over them. Laughter came up. The tourists here in Azule to take part in the beauty of the land, as they have booked a hiking trip for the next day. But the first thing they wanted to do was go fishing. A specific type of fishing actually.

See Bell Natural Tour Experiences offers many different experiences. Boat rides along the coasts. Races out into the open gulf. Nothing but open water, deep and unknowable around. Fishing, both coastal and deep water. Hiking tours on the mainland, and on the islands. It's a very wide ranging thing, and he does it all by himself!

As the boat cuts and skips across the water, Jericho suddenly bursts out in song!

Well a night on shore wouldn't do us any harm
Well a night on shore wouldn't do us any harm
Well a night on shore wouldn't do us any harm
And we'll all hang on behind!

His clients all looked up at him as if he's just grown two extra heads, horns and a tail. With a cackle he turns the helm abit. And continues.

And we'll roll the old chariot along
And we'll roll the old chariot along
And we'll roll the old chariot along
And we'll all hang on behind!

By the time he'd finished the chorus, two of his clients had clued in and joined in. And because of the prevalence of sea shanties coming back into vogue. They actually knew how to sing it, not trying to sing over him as the Shantyman. So as they sped along he called another verse. While another of the clients started to drum a beat onto the table that the clients all sat at in the bow of the boat.

Well a big pot of gold wouldn't do us any harm
Well a big pot of gold wouldn't do us any harm
Well a big pot of gold wouldn't do us any harm
And we'll all hang on behind!

Jericho grinned, pointing ahead between verses, "Hey deh frens, wi destination a come up yuh see." He slowed the engines, so they glided rather then jumped on the waves. He nodded and slowly brought the boat to a stop, "Now mi waan show yuh weh wi a fish fa today, jus di bes fi mi fren dem it is." The clients stepped to the gunwale of the ship and looked into the water. Jericho tossing some bait he had prepped into the deep blue water. It began to sink, when a silver-blue shape flashed up. Two feet tall from dorsal to ventral, 5 feet long atleast, golden yellow bone spikes, silver tail. That sir, was an example of a great and mighty Tuna.

The silver blue shape lanced off back into the dark blue water, and Jericho could only smile, "Mek wi get unu all casting yeah? Si if wi can bring yuh in each a fish. Mi fishing charter seh we can get two a piece fi unu all. Get ready!" And his clients smiled, looking forward to the fights that were going to come up soon. Jericho stepping down off the helm tower and bringing out the fishing rods, lures already attached, high grade lines spooled up.

Eloy squinted ever so slightly, moving his head from left to right to be able to see the results of his detailed yet rigorous work. The man's fingers were curled around a sanding block, working on the wood trim of the windowsill at the back of the Whispering Waves, the sound of the waves mixing with the grit on wood. Truthfully, the windows were long overdue for their paint job, and the difference between those he had finished and those he hadn't was striking. But he wouldn't be done today. In the orange of the evening falling over the Azul islands he wouldn't be able to properly see the strokes of his brush, which would result in an awful job done on the bed and breakfast's lovely windows.

And a beating from Izabel.

At the very least, he could finish up the sanding to make his job easier when he came back to finish up. It was evening, and in August, Azul was still more than warm after sundown, allowing the man to stand in his work boots under grey cargo shorts. His shirt was off and draped over the back of a lounge chair beside him on the deck. Beside it, his toolbox stood open. Below the porch, with their chairs lodged and half sunk into the beach, two guests of the bed and breakfast were a couple of self-made cocktails in, two bottles stuck haphazardly into the sand as the girls giggled and talked, loudly at that. Every so often, they'd make comments about Eloy being a rigorous worker, working himself into a sweat and how much they'd love to cool him off with their cocktails or a skinny dip into the ocean. He had politely declined. Even so, he couldn't help but grin a little to himself as the girls thought that they were being silent when talking about him amongst the two of them.

A little bell at his feet caught the handyman's attention, and he glanced down at the black fluffy cat circling around his legs, making the shape of an eight as if the trick would get her a reward. He had learned to always watch where he walked while he was working at the home because the cat had an uncanny ability to be in the way, always asking to be scratched atop her head. The lack thereof today had the feline confused, as Eloy didn't touch her with his paint-stained and dusty hands. "You just wait, Saph. When I wash my hands you'll get the best scratches ever, I promise." She let out a loud meow as if she was holding him to the promise. A forceful bunt against his legs returned a promise of violence if he didn't comply.

When he felt content about his sanding work, he transferred the block to his other hand before stretching out his fingers that were half-locked into a grabbing position. He made a fist before flexing the digits, his mind carrying off with the wind. These were busy days for Eloy, and the man couldn't deny he was stretching himself just a little bit thin. July and August and a bit of September were always prime time months for his surfing school, with many tourists signing up for a class or a longer course. Some were serious, some were just there for the novelty, the experience or the social media picture. Not that Eloy minded, and he frequently posed for a picture or two if that was what would get him more customers. It was needed income, and he adored spreading his love for the waves, even though some people had the motoric skills of a walnut. The money would boost his businesses and sustain him for the rest of the year, when he had a bit fewer tourists to teach and instead had a fixed group of mostly local kids, from little ones to teens.

Some of them were shaping up to be incredibly talented, making Eloy feel an odd sense of pride whenever he helped them sign up for competitions, navigate offers from sponsors or to join more prominent teams than his own. Most of his students stayed loyal to the Wave Makers, though. The season brought many competitions Eloy coached his students at, and many classes to teach while still being in demand for his repairman services. As the tourists were still traversing the boardwalks, the locals prepared themselves for the Azul Native Days, which made a lot of business owners suddenly aware of issues they needed fixing within their establishments, stores and tour boats.

All in all, August was usually a chaotic non-stop whirlwind, and he'd love to be sleeping all through September to catch up. Fixing up the Whispering Waves, however, was a task in itself that spanned over a longer time, and he didn't mind. The house itself had good memories for him, too. Stepping over the cat and to his toolbox, Eloy ensured that all his tools were back in their place before he latched it shut.

Above, the familiar sound of a small plane filled the sky, and Eloy glanced upward. Ah, Chris was returning. He too, was busy. Grabbing his used paintbrushes, Eloy held them in his fist as he walked to the backdoor. He'd wash his brushes, scratch the cat, say bye to Izabel and head out. As he stomped his feet on the mat outside the door, he heard a voice inside, unfamiliar and with an accent he couldn't place. Definitely not a native Spanish speaker, though, not only clear from the apology.

He was in the door before he thought better of it, hopeful he wouldn't get swatted by Izabel and her handtowel of doom for walking around shirtless among her guests, he just hadn't expected someone to be in the main area of the house. Making his way further, he noticed a woman gingerly sitting down, seemingly favouring one foot. She was wearing a summery dress, and Eloy immediately recognised where it came from. A local woman who made dresses like no other. This woman had shopped locally, and Eloy could appreciate that. As he walked up behind her, paintbrushes in hand, he spoke up. "Buenas noches, Señorita, your Spanish is fine."

The cat slid between his legs as she trudged up to the woman, likely looking for cuddles, the little bell around her neck tinkling softly. "The cat's harmless. Let me get the owner for you." As he passed her, he flashed the woman a friendly smile as he studied her face for a brief moment. Glasses on her nose, light eyes peering through them, and pale skin. Shortly, Eloy hoped that the woman would use a lot of sunscreen because skin like hers would turn her into a lobster at the soonest opportunity. She did seem slightly overheated, too, but hospitality was not his thing, so instead he passed the counter and walked into the little hallway that led to the small office Izabel usually worked at.

The man leaned his forearm on the doorpost, paintbrushes still clutched as he briefly watched his best friend concentrate on whatever she was doing, not noticing him at all. Like himself, he found her to be hardworking, not taking what she had now for granted. She had worked tirelessly for him as an instructor, being especially good with the little ones. Sometimes, he missed having her on his team, but he acknowledged her desire for more. To be in charge of something for herself. Eloy would always support his best friend in that. Now, he works for her sometimes, which was a welcome twist. For a brief moment, he looked fondly upon her, her face etched in concentration before clearing his throat and raising an amused brow. "Bells, there's a customer up front, tourist I believe."

The surfer pushed himself off the post and rolled his shoulder, a little sour from the sanding movements. Holding up the brushes, he waved them with a big grin. "Gonna wash my brushes. Not done yet with all of the windows, though, but getting there." He winked before turning.

After informing Izabel of his progress, he walked back toward the main room where the woman waited. At the counter, he dumped his brushes into the deep, large sink before turning on the water. He carefully started washing out the paint, as he knew better than to splatter water and paint around Izabel's neat establishment. He looked at the tourist with a curious brow raised, a kind expression on his face. "Did you hurt yourself?" The man jutted his chin into the direction of the foot he saw her favouring.

Jewel Cardenas

Jewel had settled comfortably back inside the main house after showering and changing into her outfit for the day. She wore an off-the-shoulder top, a flowy white skirt, and espadrilles that laced up her ankles in a neat bow. She kept her makeup minimal, adding just a cherry-extract oil to her lips for moisture and a touch of blush for a slightly flushed effect. The house was quiet, filled with the kind of stillness that only comes when everyone else is out and the day’s activities haven’t yet begun in full. She busied herself in the kitchen, preparing a light snack, savoring the calm before the inevitable bustle of the upcoming festivities.

Time seemed to drift by, and Jewel found herself lost in thought. She tried reading a novel in the garden under the shade of the citrus trees, but her mind wandered. Just as she was about to give up, a familiar hum broke through her reverie—the distant, low drone of a plane. She paused, listening intently as the sound grew closer, signaling Iris’s arrival. Taking a deep breath, Jewel brushed her fingers through her hair and put on her sunhat, preparing herself for the reunion.

She walked out toward the marina, the warm sea breeze greeting her as she made her way down. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden hue across the island. By the time Jewel reached the marina, the plane had already docked, its passengers disembarking. The air was filled with laughter and greetings as the Cardenas family reunited with Iris. Jewel spotted her cousin immediately. Iris had always been the spark of the family, her energy infectious and her presence a welcome contrast to the island’s more tranquil pace. Jewel smiled, genuinely happy to see her after so much time apart, and embraced her warmly. “I’ve missed you,” she said, her voice full of affection.

As she approached the rest of the group, Jewel’s eyes were drawn to another figure standing near the plane. Chris. Her heart quickened at the sight of him, and a brief flash of memories played through her mind. He was leaning casually against the plane, his aviator sunglasses perched on top of his head, revealing the blue eyes that had once captivated her. It had been a while since they’d last seen each other, and seeing him now stirred up a whirlwind of emotions she thought she had long since buried.

As the family gathered around, the marina buzzed with conversation and laughter, everyone catching up and sharing stories. Jewel found herself slipping into the familiar rhythm of family life, but her eyes kept straying to Chris. He was talking with her father, Miguel, their conversation appearing casual, but she knew better. There was always more beneath the surface with Chris—unspoken words and lingering tension that neither of them had ever fully addressed.

“The Cessna’s been busy today, eh?” Miguel teased Chris, his tone relaxed but with an undertone of smug satisfaction. Business had been booming lately, and Chris had definitely been reaping the benefits. Miguel also knew that Chris had been mostly loyal to the Flores family, but with their power and influence waning, most of his business was now coming from the Cardenas.

Elena, Jewel’s mother, called out, summoning everyone to help with the bags. “Iris, Mr. MacDonald, come inside for a cafecito and some treats, hmm? I’m sure it’s been a long day of travel for you both. We’ll get you home soon enough,” Elena said, adding a wink at the end. It was the way of the island to embrace the slowness of it all, to sit down and enjoy each other’s company before returning to their busy lives. It was less of an invitation, and more of a given.

As they all started toward the house, Jewel found herself walking next to Chris, their arms brushing slightly as they moved.

“Long time, no see,” she said, her voice warm and familiar.

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Jewel knew this was just the beginning of whatever lay ahead. The island had a way of pulling people back together, forcing them to confront the past they had tried to escape. As the group moved toward the house, with the sun dipping lower in the sky, Jewel couldn’t shake the feeling that the next few days would bring more than just a family reunion.

@Fading Memory@Pilatus

Even doing something as mundane as driving through the main thoroughfare of Isla Zafrio, doña Cordelia Flores cast a natural image of elegance. Waves of red tied back simply under a sun bleached military style cap clearly marked her as a foreigner, however to the residents of Azul, she was like a rare flower plucked from a foreign land by her late husband, the don José Ramón León Flores. Everywhere she went there was a constant stream of smiles and adoration from passersby. Tourists looked about dumbfounded as she waved and tapped the horn like a celebrity. Within Azul, the Flores were the closest thing to royalty that anyone had ever known, some for their whole lives, even though they were elected to office. Cordelia had been a part of that at its height, as the islands opened themselves to the world under the leadership of Papa Flores. Now, with the Festival days just ahead, she could sense the unease within many, though for her it was a pain of emptiness and even further isolation. She drove on with a bright smile and a quick word, hiding it all.

To the common people, it would appear that the Flores family had naturally closed ranks to grieve privately for a time and that was true, almost. They had closed ranks, just not with Cordelia. This was not wholly unexpected, though. Ever since Jose’s death there was a slowly falling veil that settled between her and the other two Flores brothers. Alejandro, Esteban’s oldest son, had been kind enough then and Cesar and his wife were still dating, but without Jose she became an outcast and with no children, nothing more than a leafless branch. Now she had finally been pruned, sheltered out of the entire affair, as her brother in law described, to protect her. Her grip on the wheel tightened and her head tilted only slightly as the only outward sign of the explosive anger contained. The memory of this encounter began another replay in the back of her mind, but she stopped it as it always led ultimately to the same conclusion: This was Azul. The Flores were the final word. There was no appeal to any higher court or investigation. If anything were to come of this, she would have to make it on her own and endure whatever the cost.

The simple 4x6 cart trundled beneath her only laden with a few miscellaneous supplies for the marina that jostled along with the numerous divots in the old street. She had one more stop to make on an afternoon of errands and that was to pick up some feed for Imp, her horse, a wedding gift from those very same in-laws. Before that though, she was going to make one more stop.

Pat’s Bar didn’t have a sign or was even that recognizable apart from anything else along the back alleys next to the lagoon. It was simply one of those places you had to know about and that was by design. It had been several years since she had been inside and though she was still an American with dual citizenship, her last name was considered as something of an invasion of space and like the other natives of the island, she respected the regular patrons desire for privacy, however it felt a lot different now. The fact that Taryn Rogers, not even really someone she associated with at all and certainly no friend of her island “family”, wanted a meeting in this place meant she was trying to keep something from ears of the Flores and in her current state of mind, Cordelia found that was intriguing enough for her to entertain the girl, if only for a few minutes, assuming It would probably be nothing. The younger girl was constantly into some mischief. She parked outside next to the other carts and made her way through the shaded corridor that was the “main” entrance.

Inside Dana MacDonald sat quietly at the bar reading a book. Music played in the background. She looked up unsurprised which meant Taryn already arrived. “Hi Cori, Taryn is out back. She said she would wait for you…” Her glance shifted with unmistakable motherly concern. “Are you doing alright?”

Cori allowed her shoulders to relax a bit, enjoying the warmth of the other woman’s genuine concern and let out a small sigh. “Yes… it’s really been an…” Her voice trailed and for a moment she thought she could just unload everything and it would be received without judgment, but she held back. “A difficult few days… but I’m doing better. Thank you for asking.” She nodded.

“There’s no need to be a stranger.” Dana said quietly and went back to her book. To Cori it felt like she had read the words right out of her thoughts. Smiling at the thoughts that tumbled around her head about how she may just take Dana up on that offer. Her own parents didn't understand why she was still here. No, that wasn't fair. Daddy understood it was Mother that didn't. 

Moving to the back where Miss Rogers was at Cori collected herself as she walked on. She brushed a stray piece of alfalfa off her flowing skirt. Her clothes screamed boho beach but when looking closer one could tell the items were tailor made for her. The fabrics were the finest quality and the simplicity of the outfit, upon closer inspection screamed money. Cori prided herself on being approachable but with the ability to create distance as needed.

Opening the door Cori saw the dark haired woman already seated. Taryn was kicked back with a laissez-faire sort of way. The way a cat would before it decided that it was truly interested in a bird. Cori's lips pulled up at the corners and a small smile settled on her features. She might be a bird but kestrels were birds. Powerful falcons that were beautiful and just as deadly to small vermin as a cat.

“Hello Miss Rogers.”

@Pilatus

It feels so weird to be home after so long. Andrés thought as he was in his room, sitting at a desk while working on his laptop. An unexpected feeling since coming home and readjusting to island life. He would realize that he missed some aspects of island life, such as the cool ocean air, beautiful nature, and, more importantly, no traffic.

Still, things have changed since leaving for the mainland, and Andrés is just glad that he has a place to stay and can still do his job while he is here. The perks of being a comic book artist. He just needs a laptop and his drawing tools, and he is good. Though Andrés has yet to show his family, the comics he is working on and have helped to earn him a living. He knows his family is not keen on comic books like he is and is not sure how they would view it. Andrés knows how his father would feel, however.

But, after some time at work, Andrés saved his work and closed his laptop. He did a long stretch as he finished his work for the day and now thought of what to do next. Both his mother and sister were out of the house at the moment, and that left him with the house to himself. He looked at his room, which was spacious, and he had to share it with his sister. Andrés did not have a problem with that, but it reminded him of the state of the family.

Then he thought about it and remembered how, despite being on the island for some time. He had not really explored it since coming back and see what was new and what was still around. The day was still young, and he might as well have seen the Isles while he was staying here. Maybe he will see if the Hidden Retreat Cafe is still as good as he remembered, given how much his mother cared for it.

So Andrés decided that he had enough of the house for today, and it was time to see the island. He would depart the house and venture out. Maybe he will see an old face or some old friends that are still on the Isles, who knows? But it is time to get reacquainted.

@QueenBea@Pilatus

Her hands lifted away from the controls swiftly as Chris took control back. A slow breath eased out of her lips, only lightly registering through the headset. She waved her hands lightly before her, the phantom vibrations of the engine still tingling in her grasp. With the slow exhalation completed, she sniffed once to regain her breath and relaxed back against her seat with a groan. She rotated her neck from side to side, seeming to have developed some crick from her unintentional movements while focusing.

"Not a thing to run into, nothin' but empty air, and I lean into it like it's a bike. What the hell is my problem?" She laughed and shifted, now focusing on looking out over the scenery. Her forehead rested against the window. She lifted her right hand and brushed over her bare left shoulder, almost hugging herself as a giddiness manifested-- but it did not survive the sight of the winery passing below. She sighed again, mood not entirely soured but certainly brought back into a moderation.

"Hey, take as many circuits as you need; papa's footing the gas bill right?" She snorts, her nose wriggling. Her comment did not intend for him to alter his flight path whatsoever, but even she seemed to grow tired of her self pity after it left her lips. She adjusted her posture again, eyes leaving one particularly irate woman to her fury below. As the Cessna lilted and slowed, Iris looked upwards rather than down. Wild hair splayed around the headset, brushing over her eyes and away from her shoulders and neck as she looked upwards at the sky. Then, as her eyes swiveled and looked at Chris instead she smiled. The casual concentration and talent he wielded was an infectious comfort.

"Well, if it's any consolation, there's a young lady in your passenger seat..." The plane levelled out, her bangs shifted loose of the headset to fall back over her eyes, and she licked her lips. "...who has a certain adoration for this thing. Noise be damned."

The finer points and elegance of their landing were lost on Iris, who only experienced Chris' mastery through the ignorant satisfaction of a smooth landing. The aircraft glided along and met the dock seamlessly. Iris did not move until Chris killed the engine. Slowly she pulled the headset off and chewed on her lip, gazing at it between her two hands. She bounced it lightly in her palms then paused, and plucked a stray hair of hers out of a seam in the plastic.

"Almost left you a souvenir." She chuckled and let the hair slip between her fingers into the breeze as she opened the Cessna door. The sunlight hit her dark complexion as she leapt out onto the dock and stretched in the familiar warmth and smells of...home. She turned and looked out over the waters, so lost in her sudden dive back into real life that Jewel's arms wrapping around her came as surprise.

"Oh, shit, it's you." The words fell from Iris' lips with the full force of her years spent in Miami; crude, affectionate, and with strong affectation. A level of adoration rose in the words and she shifted to hug Jewel back with a full bodied squeeze. Iris pulled back, gazing at Jewel even as Jewel's eyes found Chris. When she spoke next, it was as if Jewel's presence had revived Iris' natural accent in full force. Rather than the Americanized tones she had acclimated to, the Azulean dialect arose;

"It's good to see you." The words fell with sincerity, though Iris stepped back a few paces as Miguel approached as well and nodded deferentially to the patriarch. Her presence seemed to diminish for a moment, discussion taking place around and over her rather than at or with. She swept a hand through her hair, basking in the familiarity of it all even as the embers of something fierce stoked within her. There was a natural groove set before her, an easy mental path, to fall back into the shadows she had hid in before her exodus. Gravity pulled her towards those dreary mental pathways with an allure of inevitability. Her reverie placed her a pace behind Jewel and Chris as they made their way towards the invitation. Jewel's words floated to her ears, and Iris raised an eyebrow at the subtle contact her cousin had initiated.

"That's an understatement." She laughed loudly, striding forth to match pace with the two and hijacking the conversational direction in one fell swoop. She took up position on Jewel's opposite side from Chris, stretching her arms above her head with a deeply satisfied groan. "We've got a lot of catching up to do, and I need to get out of these pants as fast as humanly possible."

She chose to fight the looming inevitability in her mind for now; things would be better this time.

Another month gone meant more paperwork to catch up on. While Izabel absolutely adored running Whispering Waves, she loathed having to do the financial aspects of it. The young woman always found herself wishing to hire a manager to take care of it all for her. But, along with the small bed and breakfast's budget not being able to handle another employee, she knew she would never be able to hand the reigns of her business over to someone else. This place had once been, and still was, her home. She lived and breathed for it. She would just have to get over her dislike of math. Eventually.

Yet as the hours dwindled by, her eyes would occasionally catch sight of a wave outside of her office's window. The sea called to her in so many different languages and emotions. She would catch herself remembering her childhood days of living on her surfboard, or her late teenage years of teaching younger children to embrace the beauty in each crest. Izzy would sometimes wish to be back to those years but knew she was living the best time now. Not only did she run her own establishment, which had always been a dream of hers, but she was in the prime of her life and had everything to look forward to. Nothing would be able to take this away from her.

At random times her ears would catch the sound of her handyman and best friend working against the wood of her house. She was so eternally grateful for that man. Not only did he run his own handyman business, but he was always able to find time in his schedule to help her with anything she needed around the home. Izzy didn't know what she would ever do without him. Hopefully she would never have to find out. The two had been constant companions since the first day they had met and their friendship only grew stronger as they aged. She had been sad when she decided to stop teaching at his school, but knew her best friend would only be happy for her living out her own dream. To her, there was no better man than Eloy Kan.

Huffing out a breath, she regrettably pulled her attention away from the sea and back to the calculator in front of her. She had to get this budgeting done or else she wouldn't be able to work on the inventory until much later, during a time when she desperately wanted to dip her toes into the ocean. With a groan she put her elbow onto the small desk and propped her chin on the inside of her palm as she stared down at the figures. During the summer months the profits had increased somewhat slightly, but not exactly where she had hoped they would be. The competition from the much more luxurious and larger hotels towards the center part of the island always drove away any prospective guests. Thankfully the guests that she was able to bring in managed to keep her business afloat. At least for now.

Izzy had been so lost in the paperwork that she didn't hear the man until he had cleared his throat. Jumping only slightly in surprise, she quickly looked up at him and exhaled out a quick, short breath from her nostrils. Her eyes immediately took in the sight of him shirtless and her throat dried. She then was able to process what he had said to her. Eyes widening slightly, she raised a brow in question. "A tourist?" She pushed away from the desk and rose to her feet before moving towards the front of the room. Bringing her hands down, she pulled at the hem of her denim shorts until they stopped mid-thigh and made sure her tan button-up shirt was fully closed. "Get a dang shirt on, Loy. Trying to run a business here. And don't you dare get any paint on anything it doesn't belong."

She would just have to ignore the part of her that hoped he wouldn't redress. Izzy was a woman after all, and she definitely had eyes. Though she inwardly bashed at the blush that threatened to flair across the tops of her cheeks and nose at that wink of his. She shouldn't be having those types of thoughts about her best friend. Couldn't. Could she? Shaking her head at herself, she followed after him into the main area of the house. She pushed the stray strands of her brown hair away from her face as a large smile pulled at both corners of her mouth when she noticed the woman.

"Hi, welcome! I'm Izabel. Are you looking for a room?" Hearing Eloy's words to the tourist, she blinked and raised a brow in concern. "Are you alright? I can call the local doctor to check you out. You wouldn't have to move a muscle."

Dr Katrazyna "Katska" Nadezhda Kowalewska

Kat looked over hearing Fluent Spanish with a local accent. He had a deeper male tone and an easy casual confidence that she could tell even if she could not see him. People's voices were pretty clear to tell you what kind of character they were. she turned her head and blinked, a shirtless rather handsome man, they sure made them good on these islands and this was a prime specimen of the male Homo Saipan if she said so herself. His compliment seemed to come easily and he seemed to regularly use Spanish for him to sound so natural.

“Muchas Gracias, She's quite a cute kitty, and you know it's a little one.” Kat carefully leaned over slightly but held her balance and dignity as she gave the cat a stroke and a scratch behind the bar in greeting. The dark cat had bright eyes and seemed to love a fuss. “You're cute, oh little one. I bet you get all the fuss.” She said softly to the cat, her accent falling more into her native Polish accent heavily and more intensified.

A tourist was close enough especially as she had been sent here to slow her down, there still was a job to do but this job was one that was on island time. Just getting access to archives took a week, nothing was digitised so everything was still on paper etc and while organised it still was sorted all on cards and lists rather than the more advanced systems she had got used to. She was working like when she first started her job as an intern and somehow she did not mind the tactile and physical nature of the information and her job. It was… satisfying.

Kat had adapted quickly to the materials though the organisation was less so, people tended to walk files and things got misplaced over time and there had been plenty of time. It would take Kat… Kat did not know how long she would need but no one at Olympus was seemingly worried yet, they seemed happy to have her as an asset on the island and wait until they needed her. That was hard for Kat but she forced herself to remember finding wrecks was not a short term project, months, years was normal. Not a matter of weeks in this endeavour.

Bells, Bella? maybe…must be the owner or the one who ran the BNB, this place seemed quiet and slow paced as seemed to be the nature of the life here. Female? Pebbly anyway, this place looked very much homely and seemed to have a female touch, or least help.

They must have been having their own thing going on at the same time as she looked about the room, took in the view from the windows and looked at the bright blue sea reaching far out into the blue skies that ran on as far as could be seen. It was an alien place compared to the arctic, the wet and cool days in London. it still took a little time for her brain to catch up with everything.

She released her ankle and the fact she favoured one side blushing slightly at how it was a self caused injury, and a man who could have been the front page model of an paperback romance novel asking after her injury. “The Stone won” She said lightly and hoped it down played things abit. “Nothing that a rest cannot heal and take it easy in morning Yoga I think. I'm too used to wearing boots aboard ship for the last 3 months.” Kat explained as it did no harm and hopefully no one caused a huge drama calling an ambulance for a sore foot. It tinged for sure and she definitely was tentative and ginger to place too much weight on it but it was not like it was dislocated, bruised probably but not broken.

A shorter than Kat, dark haired woman dressed more casually entered into the room wearing shorts and a buttoned blouse, comfortable for the climate and wearing what would be likely a normal dress. Honestly she had the right idea but Kat wanted to wear this dress and likely would see what else the woman had, the fabric was more comfortable in the climate than some of her other items she had. Maybe a nice top, skirt, and whatever else she had. “Well. More accurately, I'm trying to locate an environmentally hazardous wreck so we can clean it up, but right now I'm off the clock so I'm a tourist.” Kat said cheerfully with a smile.

“The view is good is it not, like a painting or Book more than reality. Shame to hide it and ruin the scenery.” Kat said but had a double interpretation to the statement and a little playfulness. A memory returned when she was waiting for library access, archives and so, she had nothing to do bar wander, visit the markets, shops, the boat supply store to pick up and stock her boat up. It was stocked but had been missing a few things used by the prior owner. She guessed it was the term, captain? Those things she had replaced and sent off the expense report, naturally.

Her mother, Kat had been down and lost in the islands, lost in what to do and what to look for. This was a new thing and she had been so stuck in her routines. “Mamusia. You have some time to talk…” Kat had asked as she did the time translation, it worked but she was up at a crazy early hour and was laid out on the soft pad on the front of the boat as the sunrise had only even begun to show its light. It was quiet and dark so she just had been in underwear and a Morticia Addams family tank top still, reclined against the soft cushions of the sun bathing prow.

“I'm lost, I'm alone, and right now I'm unsure what to do. Everything I'm used to…is. Different. Thinking…Alex, memories.” Kat said and rambled to her mother as she spoke in the cool barely morning. It had taken a few years for them to reconnect between an independent and driven daughter and mother who wanted her to take over the family business but they had bridged the gap after a few rough attempts. It was not easy and both had a lot to think about first.

“My dearest Katrazyna. You have been hiding out too long, let me speak. You are not bad, just.. a little lost.” Came her mothers warm tones over the slight crackle and distortion, the islands infrastructure was not up to the same standards as Europe yet or the advanced systems aboard ship's she worked on. “I say this with all the love, go out, dance, buy a new dress, put your nicest shoes on and go have fun. I saw the pictures on your snap chat. Alex was a long time ago. Stop beating yourself up my daughter, I know that hurt you alot.”

“Make new ones. Your grandmother would have said the same, go out, Katrazyna. You're free, no one knows you, your past. Go do something you never do. Dance into the morning or what else catches your fancy and forget about over-thinking. I raised you three, I know all of you. your sister is jealous of Yoga in the sunrise by the way.” She tried to guide her daughter and remained talking till the call ended when her mother had an appointment to attend to the doctors.

Yoga had been a particularly thoughtful routine as she mulled over her mothers words, goring through the movements almost automatically as she barely noticed she had changed into yoga gear, started and was barely listening to the instructor in her ear buds just copying the motions. The online class was on youtube but a good one and she had not found a local class yet, Yoga for Kat had been mostly a solo event for a few like minded people aboard ship.

Kats mind snapped back and the whole thing seemed to pass over her in a matter of seconds. “My names Katrazyna Kowalewska but most just call me Kat Or some variety of it. Though the woman who hand wrote my full name on the library card has not yet forgiven me it seems. It took 3 attempts.” She took her mothers advice and decided to do something she did not normally do and just go with the flow of island life wholeheartedly. The full Sunday name she pronounced In a mass of Polish and Ukrainian names, not sure why but it was fun and made sense why she mostly went by Kat or Katska.

“Oh, it's Lovely, but no, my Company's arranged all that for me. But stop by another night or morning if I'm running and this is a lovely place to rest if you're open and grab breakfast or a meal if that's ok?.” Kat Apologised quickly not wanting to slight the owner or this Lovely place. “I was restless, went for a walk, got a little lost and found you. Do you serve anything with Mango? My favourite, preferably cold? I'm still getting used to palm trees vs penguins.” She said Good natured and then paused to ask for a doctor. She did really not want that kind of fuss.

“IM..I'm good…if you let me rest, and take some time I'll be good as new in a day or two. Don't cause a fuss on my account.” She said quickly and maybe a little too quickly but did not want to cause a whole drama when she just arrived inside someone's door, sure her foot hurt but no doctor could make it bruise less or change the fact she had to go easy on the morning exercises.

“If you are able to take drop ins” Kat asked and repeated her request, trying to be diplomatic and to soften the blow she was not staying there. She suppressed a random thought to ask the man if he walked out the Water shirtless dripping like Mr Darcey. She did read other than pulp but she favoured trashy more than classic literature much to her former roommates' commentary about her choice of novels. Kat had to find a local bookshop for more cliche and trope filled romance novels, trashy or not. Kat loved them.

“Would you mind doing some drawing here?” Kat found it was more polite to ask for permission, the place was truly out of a novel and she greatly would like to be able to just sit back with her art supplies. That would definitely fill an morning or afternoon in an enjoyable way she did not take enough time to do.

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@Sadie@Days

Chris MacDonald

Chris killed the power and swung the door open as they approached the dock, stepping out onto the float to uncoil a lead of rope no differently than if they arrived by boat. The traditional shape of the plane made it appear small in the air, but as it calmly drifted its surprising size became apparent as the wing slipped overhead and Chris steadied the craft by the spar and began tying it down. He worked at a steady place with the cleat knot, sensing the welcoming party drawing close and glanced up when he felt steps beneath him. The action nearly caused him to do a double-take. There was a brightly colored extra along with the regular Cardenas clan and another quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it was Jewel. He slowly shook his head in surprise to process this information and cinched the knot a little tighter. Hearing Iris rummaging in the cockpit, he finished with the rope and stepped across the front of the plane to help her out, pausing briefly once more to look over the propeller cone, but his eyes, still shielded behind sunglasses, looked back to Jewel first.

Letting Iris fly had relieved nearly all the tension in the air. She was still beaming and it made helping her get unbuckled and daintily step across the floats to the dock slightly comical. A contingent of Miguel’s marina staff were quickly on hand and Chris moved back across to start unloading. To the trained eye of another aviator this would be unusual as a standard 206 cargo doors were on the starboard side, however, ERA’s 206 had the doors reversed, making coming and going from the dock much easier for plane and pilot. Not that this of course mattered to Miguel Cardenas as he stepped away from the reunion and smoothly approached. Chris reckoned he could have landed a Peterbilt truck and got the same reaction. The man had no interest in aircraft other than as tools that moved things and people from A to B. He spoke with eloquence and wore no glasses so out of respect, Chris took his off to chat with his client eye to eye, again catching Jewel’s glance for a moment long enough he had to refocus on the conversation. The smug undertones of the older man not going unnoticed.

“I didn’t get a big greeting party when I dropped off this morning, though.” Chris replied with a smirk, leaning on the wing spar.

Miguel grinned at the jab. “I’m afraid it would be too costly, you land here so much now. I would have to lay off some people to afford it. Perhaps a discount in exchange for more welcome parties each time you land, no?”

They both laughed. Chris was sure the Cardenas patriarch found it particularly delicious that the air service the Flores set up for Azul was now steadily busy in the employ of their biggest rival. This was business though. Miguel played the aircraft’s schedule smartly, rarely losing an appointment to the terms established by the Flores. Even though the man wasn’t a flyer, Chris was pretty sure he had already worked out the math on how long it took for him to fly to various destinations no differently than how quickly laborers could prune grapes in the vineyard. Behind him, the cargo door swung shut affirmatively and Chris turned, watching closely that the latch was secured. One of the unloaders gave him a nod and a thumbs up that the job was done correctly and Chris nodded thanks before Elena’s invitation shifted his attention back. With one quick glance back at the plane, he felt like a rider about to leave his horse tied outside, though there was no way he was going to turn down coffee. He felt Miguel pat him on the back and started walking.

The group made their way and the dock shifted gently in the water just enough for him to feel a brush of skin against his and he looked over at Jewel as she spoke, before he could answer though, Iris piped in and he snickered a bit at her comment before looking away back across the water where evening was just beginning to settle. Somehow he didn’t think it was the first time Iris had ever said those words. “Geez, I don’t even remember the last time I wore pants,” He said, plucking the khaki shorts he was wearing. It was true though, his wardrobe was essentially the same thing every day: a t-shirt or loose fitting rash guard and white soled sneakers for being around the boats. He looked back at Jewel, partly glad at the jovial tone Iris set. “You must have snuck back over here on the ferry, huh? ” He said, more of a statement than a question and figured she must have wanted to surprise her family for Azul Days. “Are you just in for the festival?”

@Fading Memory
@QueenBea

D2BE76
Interactions: Jericho @BigPapaBelial
Location: Sunny Side Cafe/Side Car Bar

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Nate was alone in his empty bar room, meticulously polishing glassware and making sure each glass went where they were supposed to go. The evening staff have not arrived yet, but they should be filtering in shortly to begin their prep work for the night. The room, having only six counter seats and four booths designed to host four patrons each, was designed and appointed with comfort and a certain sense of nostalgia in mind. Sure, there is more room to squeeze in a few more guests here and there. But that's not what Nate wanted.

Moving on from polishing glassware, Nate began wiping off the bottles of liquor that lined the mantle behind the counter. Each bottle showing some use and having been sealed with a specialty cap from the night before. Nate made sure each bottle was clean and presentable, with their labels facing the guests as to make their selection process just that little bit easier. Mr. Ueno always made sure that Nate understood the importance of simplify things for the guest but remaining unbiased in his craft.

The crew for the evening, miraculously, all arrived together and on time. Punctuality was important to Nate, but he was more lax with his colleagues. "Good evening folks. The usual for everyone, please. Thank you." Simple words, said directly but obviously without malice. The team quietly shuffled throughout the small room, setting their belongings away and beginning 'their' tasks prior to opening.

"Business has been slower recently, given the recent events on the island. Folks weren't in a super festive mood. However, with Azul Days coming up, I'd expect tourism to pick up right where it left off and come back strong. I know you guys are all very capable at handling this, but let's continue to be mindful and meticulous in our work as we always have been." Nate continued, utilizing his usual method of conducting a meeting. None of the team members stopped what they were doing to listen to Nate. That is not to say they were not paying attention to him. They heard his words loud and clear. Nate does not expect them to stop what they were doing to listen to him and his ramblings.

One of the workers turned on the music to an agreeable volume and the sound of piano began circulating the small room. Nate nodded softly as he began wiping down the polished wood bar. Azul Days usually means a booming tourism session, and with that comes booming business. Nate idly, but still carefully, wiped down the bar, while his mind wandered over to ordering supplies for both the cafe and the bar. Thinking about what he needs, might need, or want to add, Nate took a small pause as he wrung out the towel he was using and surveyed the room. Each team member diligently working on their task whether it's setting up the chairs at the bar, dusting off the booths and adding little bits of water to the plants in their pots. Nate offered himself a small smile. Mr. Ueno would be happy to see that he is doing so well...

Checking his watch, there is about 30 minutes before the first guests typically arrive. His bar isn't the usual rowdy sort. Yes, he catered to tourists, especially the ones that found their way to his cafe in the morning hours. But this bar offered a different vibe. Not so much the typical island vibe, laid back and free. This is to be an elevated experience, akin to the high class bars one would find tucked away in Ginza, Tokyo.

"Alright folks, 30 minutes to open. Lets finish up and be ready for the guests. Again. Thank you for everything you do, and let's have a great night."

Simple. To the point. Just like the drinks on offer at his bar. As soon as he was finished with his words, he took out his cellphone and sent a message to a friend.

"Walls. What are you up to this evening? Still want to come by and chat? You know you have a permanent tab and family discount here ;) I'll even let your bring your own beer since I don't serve beer here"

Bobby T.

“--few more days, and we'll get negotiations back on track," Bobby said into his iPhone, pacing back and forth around the rooftop pool of La Casa Del Sol Nasciento. “I've told you this, Terry. It's just a hiccup, nothing to get worried about."

The early evening sun was beginning to turn the sky a gorgeous orange, the thin wisps of clouds turning shades of pastel pink and violet. A few stories below, the streets of Isla Zafrio were starting to come alive as people left work to take in the night-life. Salt air came in on a refreshing breeze from the ocean, and the view from the top of the hotel let him see waves lapping at the beach a leisurely stroll from where he was staying.

On the outside, Bob Townsend Jr. was every bit the picture of serene paradise as the view he looked down on. On the inside, he was ready to start screaming.

“Look, you know how these family things can be," he said with a dismissive chuckle. “One person says the wrong thing to the wrong relative, someone takes it the wrong way, then it's all Hatfields and McCoys and Montagues and Capulets. They've all got their dander up, but once things simmer down, I'll pick right back up where we left off. These Azul Days that are coming up? Everyone here goes nuts for them. It'll put them in the right mood to talk. I'll bring you something from the festival. Something with dolphins on it, they love dolphins here. You like dolphins?"

At the far end of the pool, a thirty-something-year-old Japanese woman lounged in one of the poolside deck chairs, busily tapping away at her tablet even as she tried to relax. Behind her sunglasses, Machiko Chigusa rolled her eyes at Bobby's smooth-talk.

“All right, I'll let you go," Bobby said, “And hey, like I said, these Cardenas guys are just a little touchy right now. A few days of partying, a few rounds of drinks, and we'll get the winery deal and more. You know me, Terry, just trust in Bobby T's golden touch, okay? All right, talk to you later, give Linda my love. Bobby T, out!"

Bobby ended the call, and as soon as he saw the disconnect, he shouted “Asshole! You call me up, start questioning me? Try to kick me while I'm down? I've seen what you've been bringing in the last three quarters, and you're not in any position to question shit! You start poking your nose around here, I'll bury your ass alive!"

Machiko looked over the rim of her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow. “Are you done, Bobby?" she said, not a hint of accent in her perfect English.

“Oh, don't you start, Chiko," Bobby snapped at her. “I've been doing all the heavy lifting since we've got here. I was the one who was sweet-talking the Cardenas, I was the one who got us the rights to this hotel. All you've been doing is playing tattle-tale for your cousins back in Osaka."

“I've been keeping track of the funds and spending on this little venture," she said, “making sure you don't blow through all of your family and my family's money."

Bobby had gotten a reputation as a rock-star in his father's business, throwing wild parties and spending lavishly, but making up for it by landing huge real-estate deals. After the merger that turned Townsend Holdings into Townsend-Chigusa Holdings International, his new partners from the other side of the Pacific had become a thorn in his side, sending bean-counters and penny-pinchers along with him to rein him in.

Machiko, one of the younger cousins of the Chigusa family, was basically a machine that always managed to somehow turn fun into work. She had all the warmth and softness of a block of brushed steel, and he was convinced she had at some point replaced her soul with accounting software. Honestly, the fact that she looked incredible in a bikini was the only reason Bobby hadn't found a way to ditch her back on the mainland.

Bobby looked out on the horizon with annoyance. “Is that peckerwood with the airplane still flying around? Some goddamn local yokel, thinking he's hot shit because he can handle a Cessna."

Machiko grinned. It annoyed Bobby to no end that she had begun calculating fuel expenditures for his private helicopter as "entertainment expenses," unless if it was directly related to an upcoming deal. This meant he could only use it to shuttle himself and members of the Cardenas family between the islands, and he had to take the most direct route possible. And because the Cardenas family had put their dealings with him on hold, he was grounded for the foreseeable future.

“I saw them set down while you were talking with Terry," Machiko said with a grin; if there was anything that made her feel any kind of joy, it was seeing Bobby annoyed. “I believe the pilot does tours, if you’d like me to book you for one.”

Bob was about to make some pithy remark dismissing the idea, but he caught himself, and in the seconds he took to find his composure, had a bit of inspiration.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” he said, grinning as the facade of ‘Bobby T’ settled back into place. “Sure, it’s not as nice as my chopper, but flying’s flying, right? And hey, seeing what the locals think passes for a thrill ride will give us some ideas on how to improve on the concept once we buy this hotel and start doing our own airplane tours as part of an ‘island adventure’ package.”

Bobby had already spoken with Ramon Gutierrez, the proprietor of La Casa Del Sol Nasciento, about purchasing the hotel, and while the old man was hesitant about turning over his life’s work, Bobby knew he was less than a week away from flipping him. The hotel was old, and while it was still profitable, it was nowhere near as successful as newer hotels like the Casa de la Contessa. Once La Casa was his (or rather, was Townsend-Chigusa’s), he’d bulldoze the old building and replace it with a brand-new top-of-the-line facility, maybe keep a few bits like the original awning or cornerstone as “historical preservation.” From there, it’d be easy to spin it into an underdog story, the old underperforming establishment given new life and dominating the island. Combined with the developments he was planning with the Cardenas winery, he’d make Townsend-Chigusa a tidy little profit on these islands when all was said and done.

Of course, that was just the opening act. Bobby could’ve bought some land or flipped an old hotel anywhere on the planet and made money off of it. But he’d come to Azul for something much bigger than that…

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Bobby said as he stretched, “but I could use a drink. And not one from the hotel bar– Marta doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of ‘no coconut, por favor.’ Ronaldo, you know anywhere nice to get some refreshments?”

Ronaldo Cortez, a local man that Bobby had hired to be his private security, cleared his throat. While he’d done his best to remain professional, given long enough, his gaze always seemed to wander back to Ms. Chigusa’s legs.

“I, erm, I know a few places,” Ronaldo said, now making an effort to stare straight forward. “Do you want somewhere nice, or a, er, a hole in the wall?”

Bobby gave a shrug, perfectly practiced to show how casual and flippant he was. “Surprise me. Let’s hit the town.”

“Hel-lo” Taryn answered in almost a sing-song tone not yet looking up from scrolling her phone. She gave Cori an appraising glance as the redhead approached and her head tilted just a tiny bit as the other woman sat across from her. “How are the Flores today?”

Crossing her ankles Cori gave a nonchalant wave of her hand. “I would expect the term closing ranks could be said for any family dealing with this is a good enough term.” She was a bit taken aback by the straightforward way that question was tossed in. This just got interesting.

“Hmmmm…” She pretended as if she were giving this answer some consideration. A sea breeze from the lagoon wafted the loose strands of hair under her hat. “Does this ‘closing of the ranks’ include you?”

Cori pinned Taryn with a look that was a bit on the frosty side. “I did not realize this was an interview Miss Rogers. I still hold the name for all that I was only married to José for a few months before he was taken from me.” She pushed aside that minor fit of temper and continued; it wasn't Taryn's fault she was being cosseted. “What are you getting at and please be plain about it. You have my interest but do not push it.”

Taryn’s first reaction was to smirk. She couldn’t believe it’d been so easy to get some snark back, but she had to withhold her satisfaction and be careful, she needed Cori or things would get a lot more complicated. “It’s not, I’m just nosey, but anyone can see that there’s something going on with y’all. You didn’t even sit with them at the funeral.” She sat up and her relaxed posture became more focused and less playful. Her heart beat a little harder. “I know about what happened with your husband… and-” She bit her lip a bit, faltering some. She didn’t think she would get nervous. “Look, I saw some stuff before Mayor Fl- Esteban, just suddenly ended up dead and I haven’t told anyone…” Her eyes widened slightly and she steadied her breath as internally she started to realize what could happen if Cori just decided not to go along with her and tell the other Flores. “You’re the only one of that crew I think I can trust so I’m gonna tell you.”

Pausing Cori digested this information. Blowing out a breath she recalled the hurtful way her brother in law patted her hand prior to the funeral and all but stated she was too fragile to attend. She had not been welcomed by the ladies, both the French tart and her sister in law cut glares at her when she attended. What did she owe them? Nothing. She dropped the frosty glare and responded. “Ranks that don't include me don't need to know. You have my word. I'm listening.”

When Taryn saw Cori’s countenance relax it felt like she robbed a bank and got away with it. In her mind she thought she would go in and talk her way around whatever she needed, just like always, but something about the look on Cori’s face when she mentioned her husband finally made it real. The mayor was dead, her husband was dead and these were real people, not a movie or some high school manipulation. She felt stupid, but Pandora’s box was open now… Fortunately, she thought she could trust Cori; that same forlorn glance told her that her assumptions about the other woman were at least correct. She took in a breath and relaxed back some. Her eyes cut over past the palms to ’Donna visible at anchor in her regular spot within the lagoon and she recounted the story of seeing the mayor’s boat leaving to the south in the middle of the night.

“I know it was his boat, because no one else here has a yacht with that hybrid drive. It doesn’t make a sound and I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t been on deck… but it gets worse than that.”

Listening with a morbid fascination Cori held her breath as the same gut twisting sensation she had years ago when José died took her over. She'd been written off as a grief struck widow looking for someone to blame but it felt like it was all happening again. It was too… convenient. Not that Taryn was lying. Cori actually believed her but the timing was too convenient for Esteban’s death. The lack of follow through with an investigation was the next step. This had happened before and she was damned sure not going to relive it again.

Her resolve firmed. She looked Taryn in the eye as she spoke and focused on the words committing them to memory to turn over later. Led Zeppelin wasn't kidding when they said sometimes words have two meanings; she'd dissect this all later. If there wasn't going to be justice for José there would for Esteban. She owed José that much. “Please continue.” Her voice was pitched low so as not to be heard farther than Taryn's ears. The light in her eyes was reminiscent of what one would call a Penance Stare she was so focused on the injustice replaying itself years later.

“What was really shady, y’know other than having all the lights off, which is really unsafe, even for around here …was that someone on board turned off the AIS.” Taryn looked to see if Cori followed the acronym as she spoke, referring to the Automatic Identification System. Being in charge of the marina, she was reasonably sure Cori understood and continued: “And it wasn’t on passive mode either, because I looked, they had it completely off which meant they were not just invisible, but blind to the other boats around them.” She looked up, contemplating again for a moment, but shook her head. “I guess I could have turned my radar on, but it’s not really made for that.” She looked back at Cori unfazed by the woman’s intense concentration. It was easy, because it was actually the truth and she also wouldn’t deny that she liked hearing herself talk. “They would have been out of my range pretty quick and would have definitely noticed me trying to follow them.‘Donna’s not that fast anyway and I can’t sail her by myself in the dark.”

Being the owner of the Marina Cori was able to afford to not ask for money from her parents or accept any from the Flores family. “Of course you can't drive in the dark. And you're correct unless you dropped a cool half a million then Donna had no hope to catch Esteban’s. No offense. I'd rather not have to worry about your hide as well. That's rather odd he'd be flying blind. Anything else? Even the most innocuous thing could help.”

Taryn smirked. The information on the tip of her tongue was so deliciously obvious, but if no one knew what happened, no one would have known to look or ask questions. “After that no one saw him for days so all I had to do was look online and watch his schedule get canceled every day until someone finally just deleted it altogether.” She leaned in over the table and her glance narrowed and her countenance was of a knowing fire. “Someone knew he was dead way before the announcement and I don’t mean by a couple days. I mean by at least a week.”

This was very serious and proved that it wasn't an accident like the family thought; or said. Somehow this went deeper than Cori knew. But she was ready to play detective. “Ceremony was a closed casket. Give you three guesses as to why.” Taryn was sharing with her why not share with Taryn?

“Oh I can do better than a guess.” Taryn’s eyebrows had a flare whenever she had some particularly juicy piece of gossip, but this was even better. “You get me on board that yacht and we can check the GPS log. Even if they tried to wipe it they would have had to fly somebody from Italy to delete it all the way.” She leaned back in her seat and glanced at her nails, her tone changing as if she were commenting on something no more obvious than gravity, “Somehow I doubt your extended family is that thorough though, ‘no offense’.” She thought about it some more and touched a finger to her lips. “I’ve never seen ’em guard that boat either, be pretty interesting if they suddenly started. Might wanna see if your dock codes still work.”

“If they don't then we have a problem. Otherwise I'll get you on that ship. I know Esteban would have left some mementos of José on it. No one questions a still grieving widow who owns the marina.” Cori was starting to appreciate Taryn being a little nosy. Too bad she wasn't around when José died.

Cori leaned back. “When?” She was all in.

She crossed her arms and thought about it, looking around one more time just to be positive no one heard, but there was only empty plastic furniture, palms, and boats in the lagoon. Her lips twitched a bit, back and forth. She had a feeling this was going to be trespassing whether Cori had access or not and If they got caught she might as well pack her bags back for Florida, permanently. “I don’t think we could pull it off this weekend, there’ll just be too many people looking around, but if we wait until Vida de Exito, then everybody will be on the other side of the island. That’ll give some time to snoop around a little bit more too. What do you think?”

Nodding Cori considered Taryn's plan. It had merit and besides that the Flores family would be busy. Meaning there would be less experienced men left to guard the boat and likely a skeleton crew at that. She said as much to Taryn. “The family will be busy and will have a less experienced skeleton crew to deal with. You could be my ‘moral support’ while I gather a few things. You confident that you can get what you need within ten minutes or so?”

It would be a disaster if Cori couldn't keep suspicion off Taryn. And it wasn’t the cops she was worried about but Alejandro. He'd become cagey since Esteban’s disappearance. And the report that she'd been to the boat was far different than if they caught her and Taryn in the act of investigating the logs.

“Some of Alejandro's more experienced men are definitely not gonna let me near that boat,” Taryn answered, a little proud of her infamy. “But if they're all at the ceremony, then there may not be anyone on board… We'll have to play it by ear. If even one of the younger kids tells them I was there and you let me in then they're gonna flip shit- like nuclear meltdown flip, and then they’re gonna come back on you.” She considered it some more. It was probably for the best to wait. It would give them both some time to think more about it and see what the rest of Cori’s in-laws were up to during Azul Days. “Let’s just see if you still have access and we’ll go from there, I’ve never been on a boat like that so…” She gave a very nervous shrug to the ten minute deadline. “I dunno…” She said with an uneasy grimace.

Tapping her nails on the table Cori considered. Taryn was waffling on her own plan. Cori wanted to reach out and shake the girl but her control held the irritation at bay, for now. So close to a solution and now this. “Wear a wig? But yeah I can see if I still have access. Otherwise the whole thing falls apart. And Alejandro can't do more than yell. It's not his boat. If anything it falls to Connie. Who actually likes me. And if you're unrecognizable…”