Prologue:
The Devil, The Sun, The World, 11 years ago

Lawrence Nesbitt, the child brimming with innocence, as of yet untainted by the world, smiles and looks up at his father as the turn down an alleyway to take a shortcut getting home.

---

The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago

"Si ce ne était pas plus longtemps, vous pourriez marcher autour nue!"

The words splashed around in Marcelle Marcoux's mind as she herself splashed around in shallow water, a self-conscious voice in the back of her head telling her that the comment made by her sister was merely a jab a the length of her hair, not advice to be taken seriously. Still, there was something about the openness of nudity here that felt natural to her, comforting, in a way she couldn't quite understand.

Perhaps it was also that she knew she was alone? It was barely 6, no tourists would be flocking to the beach anytime soon, that, and the silvery mist protecting her form from being observed by the hungry eyes of any errant passerby's, looking to ogle at the young French heiresses nude form. If she was to be honest with herself (which she wouldn't be), she wasn't sure she cared. She didn't think she cared that she was displaying her spreadeagled naked body for whomever might lurk in the fog, She didn't care if her hair was long enough or not.

Her hair was long enough.

---

The Hermit, The Magician, The Moon, yesterday

The old valise was perhaps a little too full, Max conceded as he strained to close it, the springs of his bed creaking as he pushed down on the lid. Still, he was obstinately determined to make this one suitcase work. He didn't want to bring any more luggage than he had to.

There was a gentle tap at his door, and Max's father poked his head inside. He was a gentle, soft-spoken man with warm eyes and a graying walrus mustache, and yet Max didn't particularly want to see or speak to him. "All packed?" the older man asked quietly.

"Yeah, Dad," Max grunted as he wrestled down the lid a final time and struggled with the straps on the suitcase.

"You sure I can't give you a ride to the airport?"

"Armando's dropping me off. He should be here soon."

"Tell him to be careful driving up there. The I-5 can be a real pain in the keister this time of day." The older man hovered uncertainly in the doorway, unsure of how to say what he wanted to say next.

Max looked at his father curiously as he struggled with the old leather suitcase. "Is there something else?"

The man shrugged. "Look, son, I just wanted to say I'm proud of you and I love you. And- and I think if your mom was here she'd be proud too." He shuffled awkwardly, reaching into his pocket for something. "I've been planning to give this to you for a long time, I was just never sure when. It's hard to know the right time, when you have kids you'll understand that. I thought maybe your thirteenth birthday, but I didn't think you'd be old enough to understand. Then I thought last Hanukkah, but. . ." his voice trailed off.

"You missed last Hanukkah," Max said coldly. "You were down in El Centro with your Dreamer buddies. Looking for- what was it? El Chupacabra? Or was it the ghost lights again?"

"Well, to be fair, Hanukkah isn't even one of the High Holidays," the old man tried to joke. He could see his attempt at humor was not appreciated, and cleared his throat. "Anyways, I've carried this a long time for you, because rightfully you should have it. Do you remember this?" He extended his hand. Within his palm was a smaller palm, made of ornate and carefully polished silver. A Hand of Miriam.

Max looked closely, hardly believing his eyes. "Wasn't that Mom's? She wore it around her neck, right?"

The older man nodded. "She wanted me to give it to you when the time was right. Take it, wear it around your neck, many Sephardim do. They say it protects you from demons and the evil eye."

Max took the talisman, looped the chain around his neck. "Thanks, Dad, I don't know what to say. Something to remember Mom by." His gratitude was genuine. He remembered the trinket vaguely from his childhood, so long ago, but had never really thought to wonder what had happened to it in the years since. "I don't know about the evil eye bit, but I do appreciate this."

The old man shrugged. "The evil eye might be real. I don't know just yet. Just do me one favor, son. Let me know about anything. . . weird on that island, alright? You know how your old dad likes his spooky stories."

Max arched an eyebrow at this. "Dad, is this one of your schemes to prove to me the supernatural exists?" he said, only half-joking.

His father shrugged lightly. "A man's got to believe in something bigger than himself, son." A car horn sounded outside their house. "That must be Armando. You'd better get going, Maximilian. I'd hate for you to miss your flight."

---

The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago

Her coffee brown locks were long enough that any passerby probably thought she was on some weird floatation device, or something. The self conscious part of her mind, the part reminding her that she was naked on the shore of family oriented beach, was soon drowned out by the apathy that had consumed her as of late. Marcelle was anxious. Anxious about having to inherent her father's legacy, having to he lead all those rich connards. Anxious and filled to the brim with drugs. She placed another... thing... onto her tongue. She wasn't sure if it was DMT or MDMA, but it kept her up, it kept her content to no think about what might be the first time she'd ever experienced stress in her life.

Marcelle was raised in the micro-community that was Henry's Estates. To her, and to it's some 4,000 residents, Crescent island was all of the known world, and Puerto Libre was some foreign country, to exploit in some way or another. Her entire life, the gated community was her home, and the foggy and exclusive beaches of PL, her vacation spot, she had been raised so as to have to never experience what it was to suffer... As a result, she has no clue what happiness is.

---

The Chariot, Strength, Judgment, a few months ago

There was a knock on her door. "Come in." What did Jenny have to hide? As far as she was concerned, nothing. The door slowly swung open, and her mother walked in. There was nothing she could complain about, really - Jenny's room was basically as tidy as ever. Her shelf of audio books were maybe collecting a bit of dust, but she had important things to focus on. Research-y things. Her mother had always pushed her to pursue more interests, and she'd gotten her wish. That said, Jenny wasn't surprised to hear her mother sigh, and she tried to ignore it. Most of the topics she was checking now, sadly, were in text-based format, and it was read or suffer though a computer voice. Reading required a little more of her focus.

"Jennifer, why are you wasting your time on this, of all things?" Well, that was unnecessary. Jennifer closed her laptop, lest her mother see exactly what she was reading, and turned to see her mother looking at the newest addition to her room: a cork board, with printed articles and trimmed selections pinned to its surface. All, of course, about the island of Puerto Libre. "For a boy who moved? You could do better."

"It's not about Randolph, Mom." That didn't seem to lift her mother's mood any and, well, admittedly that wasn't entirely true. Yeah, other factors played into this, the reason she was using up a fair amount of ink and paper, but it couldn't be denied that she would have never bothered looking into it if he was still around. "Their school is internationally known for its excellence, and it's not like it'd be more expensive than anywhere else I'd look." Though if she let her mother read into the articles she was currently reading, those reports of excellence would likely be questioned. "Besides, I'm just looking into it. I never said I was going."

"Es un gran esfuerzo por sólo 'interés'." Jennifer was fairly certain her mother had said those words. She understood them. Instead of responding to them, though, she watched her mother take down the board and leave the room with it. If she was lucky, her mother was borrowing it to read the articles closely and perhaps understand that this wasn't one of her typical rash decisions. If not, well, Jenny had moved onto a new topic.

She opened her laptop back up and resumed her reading about the odd fog the western part of Puerto Libre seemed well known for.

---

The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago

Apparently she had taken some downers! Marcelle finds herself able to move less and less in the still orange dawn water eventually giving up the endeavor entirely, deciding the struggle isn't worth ruining whatever high the mystery drug she had taken would give her.

As she stared into the lightly purple sky, she could see her own smiling reflection.

---

The Hanged Man, The Lovers, The Star, a few days ago

"We need to talk, Jess," Dana started as soon as he had walked in the door. Jess was a mixed race girl, a little younger than he was. She was sitting on her small apartment's one and only couch, raising a glass pipe and a lighter to her lips. She glanced up at him as he walked in.

"So talk," she said before putting the pipe back to her lips. Dana strode across the room to her and wrapped his hand around the pipe. She lifted the lighter and clicked it anyway. Dana withdrew his hand with a wince, and Jess raised an eyebrow as if to say "that's what you get."

Dana held his burned hand as he watched her light the pipe. "I got accepted to that school."

Jess finally put the pipe down. "I thought you were joking about that shit..."

"I wasn't, I'm not," he said shortly, "I'm going, it's over."

"What the fuck?" She shouted, standing up as he turned back toward the door. "You think you're too good for me now or something?"

Dana stood with his hand on the door for a moment, and then turned, exploding. "Yes! I am so much more than the smoking, and the drinking! And the bullshit! I tried to get you to quit, but you always find a way to bring me down to your level! I'm sick of it."

He turned back to the door, and she hurled the pipe against the wall, where it shattered. "If you leave, I'll overdose. I'll kill myself!"

Dana held a shaking hand on he door knob for a moment longer, and said over his shoulder, "I'm sick of the emotional abuse too. I'm not responsible for your actions." And he walked out.

---

The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago

Marcelle couldn't react-- she could barely keep her eyes open-- all she could process was the shadowy figure moving over her and a rough hand closing her drooling mouth, tht was all she could process before the darkness came.

---

The High Priestess and Temperance, several months ago

A letter addressed to Emma Fields is sent via overnight express, the first, with an authentic hand signature to prove it. While the name of the academy it is sent from is written clearly on the envelope, there is no return address.

The Present Day, August 2016:

---

"Now! Today's Weather!"

"The report seems to indicate that today we will, in fact, have fog! More fog the more west you are on our little island paradise, with amounts in the east so thin, you'll swear there isn't even any fog!"

"But there is ALWAYS fog, my fellow Puerto Librens. Do NOT believe anyone who says there is no fog-- if you do find an unfortunate soul who believes they've found a place without our lovely fog, please, do them, yourself, and our community a favor and report them to Sheriff Rodriguez or one of his many, many lovely Deputies-- IMMEDIATELY."

"Well, then. In other news-- The News!"

"Speaking of Sheriff Rodriguez and his many unnamed Deputies, we have a new police report, apparently after three weeks of no communication, the Puerto Libren police and Sheriff Rodriguez feel safe in declaring another person missing, this is, of course, the most recent in a string of disappearances occurring the last few months."

"The Deputy Detectives have released a public statement in regards to this, saying that they do believe the disappearances are related, and are being orchestrated by a singular party. Good job boys!"

"If you were wondering how you could help... Well... As with ALL missing persons, the Puerto Libren Police seem adamant on not releasing any information regarding the victims, and no families have come forward... Sooo... Just keep an eye out for someone who looks missing? All we've received are initials, the most recent being 'M. M.'"

"If you have a first and last that start with the letter 'M' you should head over to the Puerto Libre Police Department-- you might be missing!"

"Moving on to something lighter... have some music to go with that morning coffee."

---

Mary Beaulieu mumbled to herself as she walked back and forth, the fresh morning light only now pouring into the lobby of Catalina Academy. Saying she was the first one up would be giving her far too much credit. She hadn't slept a wink. If you knew Mary this wasn't that surprising, she did this every year, every new batch of students, it was almost like she enjoyed getting hopped up on the shitty coffee of the lobby and pacing around.

"Merde... Merde... Merde..."

A young man, early 20's emerged from a boor behind the large oaken front desk that sat across from the entrance of the academy, Mary skirted past his vision as he yawned, the concierge uniform he wore still only partially buttoned up. He simply leaned against the desk with sleep in his eyes and traced her motions with his head, stifling another yawn.

"Won't make 'em get here any faster, y'know." A Spanish accent bleeding though, he lazily rested his head on his arm. Only turning slightly to watch her backside as she she rushed past him again, her heels clacking hard against the marble floor only to be silenced by the carpet of the lounges.

"Oui!"

Her answer was calculated and concise, with no hesitation in her voice. Despite this, her hand was shaking holding onto what must have been her 8th cup of black coffee. The Concierge, meanwhile, lazily fitted the blue cap over his bedhead.

"Okay... And you're just gonna... keep on goin'?"

"Oui!"

He answered immediately with a yawn, "Right then..." He gave in to his desire and let his head collapse onto his folded arms, "More sleep for me then, wake me when the exchange kids get here..."

"...Merde... Merde... Merde..."

---

Max. Jenny. Emma. Dana. Lawrence.

Che looked at each person sitting on the bench across from him, he didn't consider himself the best counselor in the world, not by far. But he prided himself on his ability to face names with faces almost instantly. It was why he usually got assigned to help acclimate the exchange kids to island life, after doing it for a few years, he had gotten petty good at it, and, taking advantage that the ferry hadn't left dock yet, he cleared his throat and began his time tested 'opening speech.'

"Alright, so, early, I know, just deal with this and Mary's briefing and you'll be free to do whatever until Tuesday."

He cleared his throat again before continuing, "So, as you already know, I'm Che Santiago, call me Mr. Santiago, Cherry if you're feeling casual, or preferably, just Che, no relation to Che Guevara," he did his scripted fake laugh at the old joke, "I'm your uhh..." He quickly air-quoted, "'Counselor' for the year. Really that means, anything not directly related to school work, you come to me about it. I like to think I'm pretty good at my job, I'll try to help you out. I'll also be helping you with tangential learning outside of school and all that jazz,"

He feigned thought. He did this every time, to him it kept things light and casual, "Yeah, that's about it unless you have any questions, otherwise you can go back to sleep, or talk amongst yourselves or whatever, these ferrys leave every 15 minutes and take about that long to get across the straight."

Che looked at the group of young adults with a mild interest, half-asleep himself, "How was the flight?"

When one spends enough time practicing sleeping in class, they might get very proficient at actually seeming aware. Unfortunately for Emma, she had no such luck. As the counselor talked she was very brazenly nodding off. She made some effort to stay awake, but it was clear that she was barely struggling against the tide of rest. Her head bobbed down, and her eyes closed momentarily, and then she found herself snapped back into awareness. This visibly happened several times as Che was talking. Che. She at least made an effort to remember the name, feeling that she would soon get familiar with the school faculty. It's nice to at least know their names if you get sent to the office, which was a common occurrence for Emma, naturally. Teachers rarely appreciate her habitual naps as much as she does, and are quick to fluster when they find that she does surprisingly somehow know the class material.

The flight. The question barely registered in her head. Naturally, she was asleep on the flight, so she hardly knew how the flight was. Even if they blew an engine, her sleep was likely to get uninterrupted. If anyone, including her future classmates, attempted conversation she only held it to the point of politeness before returning to sleep. Emma found, that despite her apparent apathy, some odd part of her looked forward to the year. Mystery. A nice change of pace. A nice change of scenery, she thought to herself. Emma mused to herself briefly that the now friendly counselor would likely soon be pushing for her expulsion. Or maybe he would be a rarity and attempt to work with her. Either way, the result would likely be the same: Sleep.

Emma made no attempt to answer his question.

Jenny had considered herself well-acquainted with planes - sometimes, seats were too narrow, the trip a little bumpy, there was someone in the cabin who hadn't bathed for a week, and sometimes it all came together perfectly. She'd traveled by plane enough to be used to such things. Then again, her numerous trips to date had kept her within a single time zone. There was no real need to worry about things such as jet lag. Now though? Despite her valiant efforts to talk to her fellow students and remain as energetic as ever, she showed visible signs of exhaustion.

Though, for her, that just meant not knowing what to talk about and occasionally yawning.

Her attempts at conversation ceased once the counselor started talking. Alright, Mr. Santiago, since 'Cherry' seemed a bit... much for a person she'd just met. The joke made her smile a bit - it wasn't very good, but he had tried at least. So for things not school-related, she doubted she'd be consulting him frequently. No offense to him intended. The fact about the ferries, that made her eyebrows rise a bit. Back home, city buses would arrive at stops every twenty minutes. Fifteen minutes was pretty quick - then again, if a round trip was only half an hour, they'd only need two ferries minimum, maybe three for delays, but they'd probably need a fair amount of upkeep. Was it worth asking how many ferries ran at a time? She considered the question before Mr. Santiago asked about the flight.

"Kinda tiring. Must've crossed four time zones, I think." The time difference seemed about right. As if for emphasis (though entirely unplanned), she covered her mouth to yawn. "Probably going to use more of that extra time than I'd like getting used to it. Besides that, though, can't really complain. Things went pretty smoothly." Then again, who knew if her classmates would agree on that. Maybe she'd just ignored something she considered trivial.

Well, the man seemed friendly enough. Max, in his mind, rehearsed a dozen different wisecracks he could make, but it seemed a bit early in the game to start making enemies- not everyone appreciated his abrasive humor. But hey, like they say, you either laugh or you go crazy. Not that the two were mutually exclusive.

"The flight was like any other I've taken," Max said with a shrug. "Sacramento to O'Hare, then from there to here. Stuck in a narrow metal tube 20,000 feet above the earth and wondering what keeps it from falling, the usual." He didn't laugh. Because it wasn't funny.

Everything about this island just sounded. . .off. Even in the dang brochure. The constant fog, these eerily punctual ferries, even the brief snippets of history he looked up on Wikipedia and whatever. No wonder Dad had been so keen on him attending this school. It appealed to the old man. Thing was, Max didn't even know if he was making a mistake or the greatest decision of his life. It just all seemed so flat and pointless.

"So, Cherry Bomb," he asked the counselor. "Suppose I miss the ferry, or just plain don't want to take it, or whatever. Are there, I don't know, water taxis or something like that?" He was more just trying to make conversation than anything else. Max knew the question was inane. Once again, he wondered what he was doing.

Lawrence grimaced, a bit disappointed in the group he so far had seen. Though he knew it wasn't anything massively prestigious, he had expected this school to bring out the... better of humanity. Perhaps though, it was the obscurity of this school that attracted these people. He wasn't really sure what to think of many of them. One of them appeared as if they could hardly stay awake. Of course, some people can't really handle their planes. It still astounded him that people could go their entire lives without ever taking a plane rides. Though at first the thought of traveling through the air at near-sonic speeds, suspended by a metal tube turned his stomach, but after years of exploiting the convenience had settled his inhibitions.

The first to speak since Che simply commented on the duration of the flight, as well as adding in some insignificant tidbit about the time-zones. He couldn't quite put a name to the face- come to think of it, no names attached themselves to these faces. He tended to have trouble with names, which was a nuisance more than any actual hindrance. He took note of Che's name. He had hoped, for the sake of not embarrassing himself, that he could at least remember this man for later conversation.

He considered following the lead of the other man, making a dumb joke or two, drawing attention to himself. Or, he could simply shy back and pretend that no one noticed his lack of attention. As these thoughts danced through his mind, he strayed to something different- something deeper. Ever since he had looked up this island for the first time, two things had actually interested him. The disappearances were a mystery in their own that entranced him, but something else struck him. This fog so thick, so consistent that there were no reliable satellite images of the place? That's simply murder mystery gold, and certainly interested him enough to even consider this academy a decent use of his time.

Often, Lawrence lay awake, pondering what might've happened if he had ignored this perfect mystery of a school, simply gone on to Harvard. Always he could think of only one answer. "The mystery would go unsolved." It was these thoughts that stayed Lawrence's tongue. Rather, he sat in silence, observing the others, waiting for someone- anyone else to take the initiative, and actually do something worthwhile.

Dana was zoned out hard, sitting on the far left side of the bench and looking off away from the group. He caught the gist, or the end at least. This guy was their counselor, they would arrive soon, and they would have a few days off. Good. Great, in fact, Dana thought he needed to get his head straight. Or maybe he needed to get his mind off of you-know-who and the fact he hadn't had any you-know-what in a while. He turned back to Che and answered the small talk.

"'Was just a flight. Say, why's it always foggy here?" He noticed it getting thicker the further you looked in the direction of the island. It was weird, to say the least. "Bit far south for it, aren't we?"

Silence.

That seemed to be the general consensus amongst the kids- Che caught himself mid-thought, they really weren't much younger than he was- the students. He couldn't blame them, for some of them they had practically traveled half-way around the world just to get to their small little island burg. He hadn't flown half the distance these kids had just to get here in his whole life, but he'd gone far enough to know that jet-lag was a cruel mistress. Jenny was the first to speak up, almost exaggerating her displays of lethargy in the process, pretty much confirming his suspicions, the ones he had every year, they wouldn't be registering anything, not for a good couple hours at least. Mary will still freak out about it, but at least they wouldn't be the types to go get themselves shitfaced right off the plane.

At least, that was his theory until Max spoke up.

He didn't seem upbeat, but he wasn't just content to yawn and stare at the ceiling, either; he said what the rest of them were probably thinking. 'Cherry bomb' made Che chuckle, half-genuine, half-rehearsed. The plump man shifted his position on the bench to face Max, answering the question that was almost certainly only asked to keep away the silence.

"Well, there are the private ones, but you have to pay for those, and," He grunted, "You could always swim..." He turned again to Dana, "As for the fog..." He chuckled, "No one actually knows! Weather science is a huge field here, Puerto Libre pretty much made meteorology what it is today, and our Universities and academic communities put a lot toward its research... but no one actually knows!"

Che raised his hands in a kind of shrug motion, a smile rising on his face, "We have plenty of hypotheses, but not a single accepted theory, everything from magnetic pole interference, to gravity wells pulling more moisture from the atmosphere... I once heard someone say it might just be an underwater volcano's steam..." He gave another tired chuckle, "Put simply, though, most locals seem to think of the fog as the spirits of our ancestors... Maybe they're right too..."

As Che finished the sentence, the loud purr of the old ferry boat consumed the background noise of the world. He checked his watch, more out of habit than anything, he knew exactly what time it was, 6:30, and they'd be there at exactly 6:45, that's how it always was.

"WAAAAIIIITT!!!"

A distant, loud voice started Che out of his seat, he left the cabin for the deck to check on the commotion. Three silver figures ran along the dock to catch up with the ferry, now slowly moving away from the Atoll. One threw a suitcase onto the boat before making a jump for it, Che barely had the time to catch it.

---

James Santiago could feel the fires of hell in his chest as he ran, he knew he could still catch that 6:30.

Behind him, he could practically feel the grip of one of Biez's goons-- he couldn't look behind to check it was only one, too much time. Just call it a hunch, or blind hope, that he had lost them all but one. Ahead of him, was Princess, who, for a drunkard, could run incredibly fast. He figured that was probably the thing she got in exchange for having no ass.

"WAAAAIIIITT!!!"

He knew the ferry wouldn't wait. The ferry never waited. His real hope was that maybe someone on board would help him, as he ran down the old wooden dock he new he was going to have to jump.

Fuck

He tossed his suitcase onto the boat, using that as some sort of measurement of the distance. The fog made it hard to see, but he knew it made it. His chest burned and the end of the dock approached, it was now or never.

Princess jumped.

His run came to a halt as his mouth became agape.

Princess REALLY jumped.

Glancing behind him, he could see the same dumbfounded expression on Biez's lackey. He smirked, and resumed his pace for the last few steps of the slippery wharf and made the jump, hoping to grab the guard rail of the ferry, with all kinds of hope in his burning heart.

---

The fear of the Gods and the Loa could be seen in Che's eyes as Princess, the island famous drunkard, displayed an impossible feat of human strength in her jump to the boat. She wasn't able to land the jump, of course, and face planted against the side of the cabin, and rolled onto deck, only kept on the boat by a guard rail. Che would have rushed over to tend to her, but in the fog he saw another figure preparing to jump.

His brother.

Throwing don the suitcase, Che made his way to the back of the boat, just in time to catch the hand of James, his older brother, who had slightly missed the guardrail he was probably aiming for.

"Gracias, hermano!" Jame answered with a dumb grin on his face, he was panting like a dog, and, in a way that annoyed Che to no end, had an expression that seemed to imply he had planned this all from the start. Che could only reply with a face that looked half-relieved and half-horrified, his grip was strained, it was the only thing holding his brother out of the water. On the dock, the man yelled at the ferry as it bobbed away, something about James being a dead man, Che didn't quite process it.

James noticed this bewilderment, and whistled to get Che's attention, "Hey! Hermano! I can't explain a damn thing dangling like this ship's sack!"

Che shook off his shock and hoisted his brother onto the ferry with a grunt. "Boat." he replied quietly, moving back to the cabin, as if on autopilot, still processing what had just happened.

James, followed, pulling a cigar out of his suitcase. "Que?" he responded, cigar in mouth. He sat in between Dana and Max as he lit it.

"This isn't a... ship... it's a boat... Anyway, bro, what--"

"What happened!?" The man shot up with a new-found energy, as if he hadn't just run half the length of Crescent island, "So there was this meeting in the Estates, right?" He flung the cigar around as he spoke, excitedly pacing back and forth in the cabin. "It was for realtors, and you know, I got my license in that last month, so I was on it like..." Princess moaned as she stumbled into the cabin, the old drunkard slurred something to Che, James and the students, before falling asleep on the bench next to Che. James fished a bottle out of her pocket, "Hey! I was on it like La Princess on wine!"

He gave an obnoxious laugh before continuing, "Anyway, bro! You know Biez... oh, you don't? Well, I was trying to pay attention to whatever ponzi scheme that rich asshole was trying to get us in on, but he's got this wife..." He but the cigar in his mouth and the alcohol on the bench as he simulated groping something with both of his hands, his eyes were starry as he looked through the smoke into the distance, "and these two daughters..." He began to salivate as his hands dropped to his side, "... and they were all willing to do it together..." He slammed his foot on the ground, "Mmmm!" He blew out a ring of smoke and retook Princess' drink.

"That old bastard didn't know what he was missing... so well... when he caught us..." James stood with a cocky smile and gave a chuckle, Che, meanwhile, saw it fit to slam his hand into his face with a groan. "Hey, pequeno!" James declared, his arms outstretched, "We gotta live while we still can, you know!" he threw himself onto the bench, this time next to Jenny, for the first time, he took note of the group of students.

"Hey, these guys are new... you guys tourists or something?" He took a drink of the mystery drink from Princess, approval in his eyes as he swallowed the liquor.

"Exchange kids." Che grunted out.

An even wider smile appeared on James' face, "Heeeyy! These guys prove my point! We gotta give them a whole lifetime of Libre in a year!" Che gave another grunt, more like a groan, in response. James blew out the cigar smoke through his nostrils and continued, handing the alcohol off to the students, "Well, from me personally, I want you to have a hell of a year... if not for you, then for me!"

Princess threw up a little as she slept, James disregarded it as he continued.

"Welcome to Puerto Libre!"

The spectacle now occurring on board the boat was enough to rouse Emma from her eternal state of lethargy. This reminds me a little bit too much of a rich kid house party then it should. Emma thought to herself, remembering her home. Maybe things really aren't so different on this island. Certainly it was clear that the presence of drunken perverts was seemingly ubiquitous. The man, who was evidently their counselors brother, greatly surprised Emma when he attempted to pass the mystery alcohol to the students. He really does have no sense of tact... trying to give us something like that in front of his brother, our counselor. She eyed the drink, but she knew better then to make an attempt for it. That would assuredly get her on the Che's bad side, and she didn't have the courage to try something so brazenly.

Regardless of the drink Che's brother certainly seemed to quite the character. He was very open about his sexual habits to say the least. Emma recognized the type, and was quick to dismiss him from her thoughts. She didn't want to associate with someone like James Santiago, plain and simple. But what he said did catch her attention: A whole lifetime of Libre in a year. It was clear to Emma what he meant, but she wanted something very different out of Puerto Libre then James Santigo did. She wasn't interested in booze and partying, and really never has been. She wanted to lay in the sun, free from parental dogma, she wanted to experience the island. But more then that, here thoughts kept returning to the disappearances. Something Che said piqued her interest: No one knows where the fog comes from. This island wasn't normal.

People don't just disappear, fog isn't some mysterious phenomenon, or at least it shouldn't be. Puerto Libre isn't a regular place, and I will get a lifetime of Puerto Libre, but not in the way James Santigo thinks.

Emma returned to slumber.

Jenny nodded as Mr. Santiago mentioned the private water taxis. Swimming didn't seem like a terrible idea, though, especially if it was actually possible. Maybe she'd give it a go at some point over the school year. Of course, probably would need a spotter of some sort for her first attempt in case it turned out the area had strong currents, but otherwise it sounded like a really neat idea. Well, Mr. Santiago said if they had any concerns outside of school, he'd help. Maybe this counted. She was about to ask that very question when there was a sudden loud noise - a voice - outside and Mr. Santiago got up. Jenny got up as well, though she didn't leave the cabin, instead hanging around the doorframe. What was going on?

Even with her vantage point, she didn't feel like she had gotten any answers. There were some overheard vague comments and it seemed two people had joined them from the dock, but why they didn't wait for the next boat was anyone's guess. As they began heading back to the cabin, Jenny quickly retook her seat. Seemed wiser to stay out of the doorway. The three entered, and Jenny waved - they seemed preoccupied with their conversation. What followed was...

Well, that explained why they couldn't wait. Jenny herself was no pure-hearted virgin, but the story just felt awkward to listen to.

And then he sat next to her and handed off the alcohol.

"Well.... thanks, hope I can do that." She handed off the alcohol to the person next to her. Drinking, maybe, but not when she was this tired. "Well, we know Mr. Santiago, but who are you two?" The idea of crossing the strait would have to wait. All she caught for certain was that the woman was 'La Princess', an odd title unless she was literal royalty (which even on the island seemed less of a rarity than expected) and that this guy was the counselor's brother. Well, actions and temperaments, she was pretty certain, didn't run in the blood. ...no, this seemed wrong. "I'm Jenny, by the way." Better.

James laid his accent on thick as his smile grew impossibly wide, "Well, Jyenny..."

Che groans, muttering to himself, "Ugh, Sirène help me..." knowing what came next, he covered his eyes in anticipation and pre-embarrasement.

James stands, almost instantly unbuttoning his shirt to allow it to resemble a cape, placing a foot on Princess' sleeping head, he struck a Captain Morgan pose. "I!" He winked at the groaning Che, "AM JAMES GARCIA PEDRO ROSARIO SANTIAGO." He leaned in close to Jenny, "I'd offer you a rose, but it'd only wilt in comparison to your staggering beauty..."

Che perked up at this, "Christ, Jim, really?"

"What Chewwy?" James glanced Jenny's features over, "She's not legal?"

"It's not even..." Che gripped the bridge of his nose in frustration, "Look, bro, can we not do this today? They just got here, I just got up, we're all tired..."

After a brief stare down between the brothers, James responded, "BAHH!" he fell back down, sitting on Princess' sleeping body, he crossed his legs and his arms, "Boring as always Chewwy, I was just having a little fun with the new kids..."

Letting out a yawn in response, Che turned to Jenny, "He's not as creepy once he sobers up, I promise." There was a hesitation in his voice, as if even he wasn't sure that was true, "And to answer your question, she's uhh... well, she's Princess." He gestured toward the old and battered woman sleeping beneath James, "She's not actually a Princess... obviously. But it's more than just a clever nickname. She's one of the few direct descendents of island royalty who don't hide away on the atoll... She'd actually be a..." He thought for a second, "Duchess, or like a Countess, or something." Addressing the group as a whole, he finished, "You guys'll find out a ton of weird stuff like that all year. Y'know, if they were a commodity, I think our little island would export secrets."

Dana sat through the spectacle with his eyes wide open and his jaw tightly clenched. A bottle of non-specific booze was passed around like a plague, and when it reached him he eyed it apprehensively, and took it gingerly, as if it might bite. He put it under the bench, behind his feet, and looked between James and his brother. Che seemed like a good guy, and Dana thought he might even need his... counseling at some point. But James, and this "Princess" he would keep a clear distance from if he could help it. They were exactly the sort of people he was trying to get away from in coming here. Dana made a mental note to ask Che to keep his brother away. Che would understand, he was sure, but maybe he wouldn't be able to accommodate, the other man seemed uncontrollable.

"So," Dana cut in, trying to bring conversation back to schooling, "What's the room situation going to be like?"

"So do we get dinner with this show, or is this just a preview of coming attractions?" Max asked with an arched eyebrow. He reached beneath the bench, grabbed the bottle that had been set there. He didn't plan on having a drink, really, he was more curious exactly what the man was drinking that would make him completely lose his mind. Max had expected rum from this part of the world, maybe tequila or pisco. This was. . . well, God only knew what this stuff was, but Max figured that the picture of the bleeding polar bear on the label was probably bad news. He gingerly set it back down where he had found it.

Max ears perked up at the mention of Princess' true heritage. Either it was a bullshit story given to newcomers to make the place seem more interesting, or Puerto Libre was a stranger place than he thought. "This island has a nobility, does it?" He looked down at the unconscious woman, who had clearly been chewed up and spit back out by life. "How the mighty have fallen. You know what, man, I think I might like it here after all. At least I'll never be bored, right?"

Jenny couldn't help but giggle at Mr. Santiago's introduction. Not quite as cool or smooth as he probably thought it was, but it was funny. She considered explaining to him that, well, even if she was considered 'legal' on Puerto Libre, it wasn't her thing. It wasn't from a lack of effort - she'd tried dating a couple of times, and while none of the relationships had ended poorly, she didn't seem to feel the same excitement others felt to the ideas of couples and sex. So probably not the best person to romance, bar jokingly. The consideration hadn't lasted long, though. The world changed.

By the time the feeling faded - well, no. That wasn't right. She still had a headache to remember it by, as well as the confusion and horror that left her fatigued body even further drained trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Her senses couldn't quite focus though she caught the basic gist of the explanation given. Why did Mr. Santiago have to use so many words right now? Princess was technically royalty, that would've sufficed. ...well, that wasn't really fair. It seemed like no one else had heard those strange words (nor did she have any intention of asking. She did not want rumors of her mental health spreading before she even started classes.), so how would they know how it had felt to hear them? The whole event was certain to haunt her dreams. For that very reason, she decided to try digging a bit deeper, get even more energy up to chat. The distraction, if nothing else, would do good.

"Well, even if not, there's a lot to do around here. So I hear, at least." She began raising fingers as she listed off activities. "There's the cinema, the library - the beach, obviously, and all the stores nearby. I'm not so sure about the souvenir shops, but I heard there's a boat rental for parasailing and waterskiing, and even a kite shop, if you're into that kind of thing. Not really good myself, but then again, never really had a good chance to try." And - right, good question. She rested her hands back on her legs. "Oh, yeah, rooms. Is there pairing up,or do we get our own?"

The blood pounded against her skull a little harder.

Che's face lit up at the questions, happy to be talking to anyone other than his brother about literally anything else.

"Right! Dana, right? That's actually a very good question. So, Mary's probably going to give you a bunch of jargon about personal space and generally treat you all like you're half your age, but It'll more or less amount to you all getting the choice yourselves. I mean, all of your stuff has been moved to individual rooms and those will be your own for the year, but, as you all hopefully know, the Academy was converted from an old luxury hotel, so the rooms are kind of large, and staying the night in someone else's room is allowed." Che pauses his monologue to lean in, a more serious look in his eyes, "Look. You're all adults, we know that, you know that. I know you'll all have a trip or two to the bars, that's fine, be responsible, but please..." He seems at a loss for words for a moment, "...look, just...j-just remember that we DO have clinic, and they're obliged to give you contraceptives, no questions asked--"

James, who was trying to hide his laughter finds he can no longer contain it, and busts out in a loud guffaw. Che turns back to him with an embarrassed anger in his eyes, "SHUT UP!"

"Why? Look at these nacos, bro. I say maaaaaaybe..." He points to Max with a drunken finger, "This one gets laid. I bet my left ass check the rest of them probably don't even get buzzed. They'll probably spend most of their time solving the mysteries of the island or some shit."

Che tilted his head, anger leaving his face being replaced by confusion, "What?"

"You know, real Scooby Doo stuff-- Stop talking to me, hermano, Jesus, what kind of counselor are you?"

Che was annoyed, but James was right, he returned his attention to the other questions, "You guys got it, we're pretty small, but I'll be damned if there isn't plenty to do. Touristy or not, you could probably spend a year just trying to go to every arcade, store, and beach. And there are pretty much always some local festivals or something going on, I think the businesses get tax breaks or something for having them... and, uh, there's certainly no shortage of... "interesting" people here." Looking up, he could see the green and fog of Puerto Libre approaching. "So, when we get there, just follow me, the Academy is pretty much right next to, so we'll get you there, Mary will yell at you in french for an hour, we'll get you checked in with the concierge, and then, you'll have the next few days to yourselves to get settled in. Any last minute questions?"