[ The cleansing ritual has been a somewhat welcome return to form for their disjointed little community. Sex, magic, healing -- they know this, they understand this. Armand isn't surprised to see the mortals enjoying themselves, letting themselves relax into the arms of their mysterious benefactors, or whoever happens to be behind this latest bout of mischief. But he finds it more difficult to let go and forget, too recently reminded that his body is no longer his alone to control. The last month or so has been a forceful reminder that although it's been a long time since Marius and Santino ruled him, the threads of their work remain, tied to his wrists and ankles and too easily grasped by those who want to use him.
So he approaches the ritual warily, compelled but unhappy, relying on his scant memories of his life as Arun and Amadeo to help him through it. The bathing afterwards is easier; he goes aside at first, performing ghsul in the moonlit lake, soothed by the ritual of purification of body if not soul. It feels remote, like washing clothing, a piece of furniture. Disconnected. By the time he sees Louis, he's almost calm enough to be playful, wading toward him through the shallows, water rippling around his thighs. No scales or claws this time, just the body that Louis loved and kissed all over, with one new addition -- the scar that circles his throat.
He doesn't reach for him, just lingers within touching distance. Around them, others are bathing, laughing, splashing each other. A tentative, wry smile curves up the corner of Armand's mouth. ]
for Louis - cw: dubcon mentions
So he approaches the ritual warily, compelled but unhappy, relying on his scant memories of his life as Arun and Amadeo to help him through it. The bathing afterwards is easier; he goes aside at first, performing ghsul in the moonlit lake, soothed by the ritual of purification of body if not soul. It feels remote, like washing clothing, a piece of furniture. Disconnected. By the time he sees Louis, he's almost calm enough to be playful, wading toward him through the shallows, water rippling around his thighs. No scales or claws this time, just the body that Louis loved and kissed all over, with one new addition -- the scar that circles his throat.
He doesn't reach for him, just lingers within touching distance. Around them, others are bathing, laughing, splashing each other. A tentative, wry smile curves up the corner of Armand's mouth. ]
Not quite the Seine.