The journey through the bayou was not at all comparative to a leisurely walk in the park. The trek was arduous and unforgiving, with dangerous local fauna, boggy lands, and all manner of obnoxious, biting insects which swarmed through the oppressively humid air, creating a drone of tiny wing-beats and buzzing whines.
Facilier swatted the air around his face to deter a particularly relentless mosquito, glowering all the while. He hated the bayou, and everything within it. Maybe it was due to it being Mama Odie's residence; maybe it was his abhorrence of wildlife and swamps. He didn't further analyze that, instead pausing in his slog to pull his used-to-be-white shoe-covering from the muck in which it had gotten lodged. This seemed remarkably synonymous to the turn his un-life — as he had started referring to his resurrection — had taken. His scowl deepened. Here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, finding similarities between himself and his stupid shoe-covering, for gods' sake! He shook his head. How he was even going to go about this task was beyond him. Never had he truly contemplated the idea of love, except maybe passively. And that felt like several lifetimes ago, when he was younger, less jaded..
His head shook again. Getting caught in unproductive rumination would not get him out of this gods-forsaken bayou any quicker.
He knew that he had to be close to the city now, no thanks to Mama Odie's directions. She could've at least provided him with some sort of boat. He snorted derisively.
As he continued on, light began filtering through the thinning trees before him, and the ground became progressively more solid. He could hear the raucous cries of the seagulls winging around, and the still-quiet cacophony of the denizens going about their daily business.
He stopped abruptly as a thought struck him. His outfit was far too distinct — his most distinguishing feature from afar. That had to be changed, and quickly. He racked his brain, mapping the outskirts of the city within his head. There was a tailor's shop that wouldn't ask questions not too far away. That would be his first stop.
The bell chimed loudly throughout the small shop as the door opened.
"Coming!" The elderly gentleman called, stepping from the back room to greet his first customer of the morning.
What he saw brought him up short. A tall, lanky man dressed in dark hues of purple, black, and red stood before him. His attention fixed on the man's necklace of two alligator teeth strung on a thick length of cord — that was curious. Even more so was his top hat which was marked with a skull and crossbones. His eyes narrowed as he took it all in. Being a very spiritual man, seeing one with the countenance and trappings of Baron Samedi, the Loa of death, standing within his shop was both a frightening and awe-inspiring event. He had heard rumors of the Shadow Man. Everyone who hadn't been living under a rock had heard of him. But he had also heard that the voodoo practitioner had met his demise many months ago in a frog-related incident. Thoroughly confused and very wary, he straightened up, and offered the stranger a terse nod, and a strained smile.
"Good mornin', sir. What can I do for you?"
Facilier watched as the man eyed him up with total nonchalance. A faint scowl threatened to tug at a corner of his lips, bred from impatience and a desire to get on with his task. Instead, he forced an easy smile and returned the nod.
"Good morning, enchante. I'd like to peruse your various styles. I think a new wardrobe is in order."
The shop owner found himself mirroring the more genuine smile, caught up in the man's charm that he practically oozed, all previous misgivings about him temporarily forgotten.
"I think we can arrange that. Come," he gestured, leading him to the clothing racks.
By the time that Facilier had emerged from the tailor's with many bags on his arms, several bloated, fluffy white clouds had drifted over the mid-afternoon sun, blotting out much of its harsh glare. It was an unseasonably cold day, even for late November. A gust of wind stirred up the fallen leaves littered among the streets, and caused him to shiver. This served as yet another bitter reminder of just how long he had been gone from this world — the inevitable passing of time. Though Mama Odie has not specifically stated that his continued breathing was contingent upon him successfully completing the task, he knew it to be a fact. This instilled within him both a sense of urgency and desperation.
Even with such gloomy thoughts on the mind, Facilier took small comfort from his change of outfit. Though he could not hide his unusually tall stature, dressing in a cream blazer, white undershirt, and black slacks had him looking much more nondescript, even with his old necklace and shoes on. He had forgone his top hat in lieu of a black newsboy's cap, which the tailor - who he had learned was named Donald - had told him was currently en vogue, and very attractive to the fairer sex.
Facilier had his doubts, but had decided to trust the man whose business was outfitting folks.
With the bulk of his purchases weighing on both arms, he made a snappy decision, hailing a taxi to take him to his old residence — the voodoo emporium.