"Si," said Starling, a little more sternly than his usual self, "you haven't even been here a day. I mean, there's bound to be someone you like. So don't go blowin' 'em off sight unseen. You did know about this, right?" He raised an eyebrow at her, though his expression was tight and nervous.

"Oh she came home with a pale one she did." The old man shook his head at that. "At that time we were too happy to have her home at all since we had believed her lost that we let it slide, but..." She scratched his greying hair. "She was right. He fathered good daughters. And you have a few weeks, the festival is not until the next full moon."

Sylvie shook her head, looking rather pained, and slipped her hand into Starling's. "Yes, Grandpapa," she said, swallowing. "Um. All right."

Starling made a tiny scowl and shook his hand free of hers, then gave her a tiny shake of the head.

"There there, that is a question for tomorrow. Now, come meet everyone!" And with that the old man led them towards the village, and the growd that was gathering there.

Sylvie just looked at Starling, grey in the face. "I am not getting married," she hissed at him.

"Quick," he said, low and urgent under his breath, "do you have, um, gods? Is there anything that folks here would understand right quick as a bad omen, like a black dog or a stain on the moons?"

"Um..." Sylvie looked around. "There's Orishas...but...I don't know, Star! I haven't learned any of that stuff since I was five! White people coming," she said, sticking her tongue out. "That's a bad omen."

"Damn, that's gonner hack me credibility, ain't it?" He flexed his fingers together and looked thoughtful. "I don't think I can stave 'em off entire, that's gonner look too suspicious. How much time would you need to get up another plan?"

"I don't know!" Sylvie answered. "I'm not good at plans." She gave him a pained look. "Can't you just marry me?" she asked. "And then you can go somewhere and annul it or whatever you want to do..."