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It was from high on the catwalk that Jason looked down on the theater patrons as they slowly shuffled down the aisles, out of the auditorium and into the night. Once upon a time, this had been the perfect time to strike, to slip into the crowd as they took their leave, hands working expertly to extract valuables and money, to vanish before anyone was the wiser. That had been in the time before. Jason's hand now worked in a slow circle on the reflecting dish, wiping it with a polishing cloth, moving steadily to ensure the job got done properly. As he stood on the narrow catwalk, his free hand silently went through the motions of pickpocketing as he watched the people down on the ground. He wouldn't steal from them anymore, but it didn't hurt to keep his hand in practice just in case.

With the mirror dish sufficiently polished, shining and reflective, Jason could see himself clearly in it. Black hair that vanished in the gloom of the upper reaches of the theater, cobalt eyes under dark brows, and a smile of peculiar satisfaction for a job well done. He had an plain look that would be forgettable in a crowd, just the way that he wanted it. Jason felt certain that out of everyone at the theater, he did his job the best, no matter which odd job it was that he was given. It wasn't that he was better at anything than the rest, simply that he put the necessary effort in to do it right every time. There was value in hard work, though it lay more in money and stability than in any existential satisfaction, but Jason was certainly willing to enjoy both. Walking a across the catwalk, Jason felt as at home as he did on the ground. On the opposite end of the walkway, a spotlight pointed at the reflecting dish, and Jason came to a stop in front of it. A sizable chunk of yellow glass was mounted in a cylinder of metal that could be aimed at will during a performance. The glass itself was dark amber, as it usually was after a full length show, which was why Jason was there to clean it. Swift maintenance helped to keep the mechanisms and magic that were the underpinnings of the show in good repair.

The glass in the spotlight served as its own battery, so the spotlight itself didn't need to be wired into electricity to function. Almost nothing in the theater was hooked up to electricity, and it was the same across the entire city. Acadians weren't big on electricity, and there was no power grid designed to supply it. Instead, pieces of glass like the chunk in the spotlight were designed and widely used in place of equivalent technology. They were called Relics, and they were produced and supplied by the church, gifted to the Acadian citizens in good faith. Jason wasn't overly familiar with the specifics of how Relics worked, other than that they were a sort of 'saved magic', a spell held in reserve for later use. In a practical sense, the Relics that gave off light were perfect for the theater, and that was all that mattered.

As Jason polished the Relic, the dark yellow glass began to brighten, as if he were removing impurity from the inside simply by cleaning the outside. Theater patrons were still making their way out of the hall as he worked, and he kept his eyes cast down, scanning them, picking out hypothetical marks that he would have stolen from back in the day. In the midst of the crowd, Jason's eyes locked onto an interesting sight. Not someone he would wanted to steal from, the man was a member of the Faith, not just a faithful (everyone in Acadia attended services) but an Acolyte. The brand of the Indicia, the young gods, marked his neck. If Jason hadn't seen the brand, the man's outfit stood out enough to identify him as an Acolyte, a simple shirt and kilt that was the standard uniform of the Faith.

Jason watched the Acolyte as he made his way through the crowd, stopping to have short conversations with the wealthy members of the audience, no doubt schmoozing to ensure that donations would be up to par. Jason's hands polished the Relic using muscle memory as he focused his attention on the Acolyte, hoping to catch a glimpse of his Indicia. The Indicia were gods, and it wasn't every day that you got to see a new one. Jason squinted at the crowd, trying to see if the Indicia had already materialized and he had somehow missed him.

The Indicia had already materialized, just not down on the ground floor.

“Watching everyone from way up here, aren't you a curious one?" A guttural voice rumbled from nearby Jason, somewhere on the catwalk.

Jason flinched, not enough to put him in danger of falling, but enough to make the idea cross his mind. He held the catwalk railing and turned to look at whoever had spoken. The Indicia was sitting cross-legged on the side of the walkway, tail swishing in the air behind him. The beast was male, all of the Indicia were male, and he was graced with yellow fur, dotted by sets of black spots. A jaguar, if Jason's memory served him.

“I'm doing my job, watching everyone is just a bonus." Jason answered as he got back to work on the Relic. It wasn't that he was uninterested in the jaguar. He was thrilled to have a chance to talk to the Indicia, but that was no excuse to do a poor job.

The jaguar smiled and his bright eyes seemed to flash in the darkness as he blinked. “I guess up here it might be easy to forget that there are those who are watching you back."

“Not much to see." Jason gave a simple shrug.

“From where I'm sitting, there's plenty to see." The cat purred.

As the words floated through the air to Jason, and as he slowly understood their meaning, a flush came over his cheeks. He ignored the warmth and kept polishing. He couldn't argue with the jaguar, that would be questioning the judgment of a god. “I'm just a stagehand."

“A thief turned stagehand, you mean?" The jaguar raised an eyebrow.

The accusation took Jason by surprise, surely the Indicia had no way to see into his mind, to know what he was thinking, to know what he used to do for a living. “How do you know about that?" He cut directly to the point instead of tiptoeing around it.

“The look in your eye, the subtle motions of your hand while you watch people down there. Let's just say that I'm good at reading humans." The jaguar said.

“You were watching me that long?" Jason asked.

“How long are you implying I've been watching you?" The jaguar answered a question with a question.

Jason bristled, eyeing the cat carefully, unsure of how to answer. The feline was shrouded in the darkness, his eyes a flat green gazing from the shadows. Down below, most of the theater patrons had finally taken their leave, but the Acolyte was still standing near the door. “I don't know, since the show ended?" Jason guessed.

“Maybe since the show ended, maybe longer. Who's to say? What matters is why you drew me eye." The jaguar said, swinging his legs around to plant his paws solidly on the catwalk.

Jason couldn't help but shrink back slightly as the stocky jaguar rose to a standing position, equal to him in height but thicker, with shorter legs and a longer body. Standing out between his legs were a plump sheath and furred balls. Indicia didn't have the same qualms about modesty as humans did, and why should they? They were gods. “Why did I draw your eye?"

“Because of what I saw." The jaguar answered cryptically.

“I don't understand." Jason said.

“What is your name?" The jaguar took a step forward.

“Jason." He answered, unable to retreat, his back pressed against the spotlight Relic.

“That Relic there," The Jaguar said, seemingly changing the subject, “call it a 'blessing' from the gods. Our power, which we bring with us from our world to yours, is immense." The beast came to a stop just in front of Jason, trapping him fully against the Relic. “Of course, even as gods, and even as many as we number, we can't be around to fulfill every prayer at any moment. We are young gods, Jason. It is a good thing, then, that we can imbue a tiny bit, the smallest quantity, of our power into crystalline form. This is how a Relic is made, it is one of the many blessings that we Indicia bring with us into your world."

“What's that got to do with me?" Jason asked, staring unblinking at the jaguar, who was so close that he could feel his breath.

“The Relics are designed with a purpose in mind, a function that they can carry out. With that function decided, they are charged with a certain amount of Aer to perform that function. As the Relic is used, Aer is depleted, and when it is fully expended, the Relic is no more magical than a glass bauble." The jaguar rumbled as he spoke. “A regular human may be able to access the power of a Relic, but they couldn't create the effect of the magic themselves. Think of it as a magic machine with a battery that can not be replaced or recharged by normal means."

“And?" Jason wished the jaguar would get to the point.

The feline leaned in closer, so the two were nearly touching. “You are not an Acolyte, you have not formed a pact with an Indicia. So how about your explain to me why, when you polish that Relic, the Aer appears to be recharged by a miniscule amount. I can see it as you work, it is almost negligible, but it is happening. The glass becomes a lighter color when you are finished working. Don't try to tell me that I'm wrong."

“I have got no idea. I had no idea that was happening. I just clean them well, I thought they lasted longer when you took proper care of them." Jason said.

“You don't know?" The jaguar asked, and then his lips spread into a broad smile. He whispered now, still purring as he spoke. “I had kind of hoped that was the case. Jason, you seem to have a talent for using those Relics. Do you want to find out why?"

“What do you mean?" Jason breathed slowly, backed into the corner by the Indicia.

“We Indicia bring many blessings with us to your world. The Relics are only but one. If you have an affinity for those blessings, I believe you'll have an affinity for all of them. It's not all hard work, there's also a lot to enjoy." The jaguar made sure to brush his whiskers against Jason's neck before backing up. “You have what it takes to be an Acolyte, I think."

“An Acolyte." Jason looked down to the Acolyte in the auditorium below, waiting for his Indicia to finish. Becoming an Acolyte may have been a dream of Jason's when he was a boy, but it was a foolish dream, and anyway, he hadn't been recruited by the Faith. He lacked the necessary physical attributes, the emerald green eyes of the chosen. Over the years, as life got tougher, and the world got darker, it was a dream he had let fall away. It was a fantasy, pointless to waste time thinking about. If it hadn't been, he may have been able to change things. He would have been able to save his mother. He hadn't, and the dreams of the boy died along with her.

What boy in Acadia didn't dream of being an Acolyte, the heroic servants to the benevolent gods.

“But you don't have long to think about it." The jaguar reached out a paw and placed his thumb digit on Jason's forehead. There was a short, stinging pain, and then the cat pulled his paw away. “A day is all the time you'll have. Present yourself to the temple in that time, and they will accept you in to be trained as an Acolyte. We'll see how good you really are with magic. Or you can stay here as a stagehand. There is nothing wrong with that."

Jason had more questions, he wanted to know what the training was like, to know if it was even possible to catch up to the boys who had been trained since birth. Instead, with a wink and a growl, the jaguar vanished. Looking down, the Acolyte had gone as well. Jason was left on the catwalk by himself with too many questions and not enough answers. Standing in the dark at the top of the theater, Jason saw his reflection dimly in the mirror dish across from the spotlight Relic. It was the same reflection as before, dark hair and eyes, but there was something else, something new. On his forehead, in the spot where the jaguar had touch him, there was a shimmering mark. He had to get closer to see what it was, brushing his hair out of the way.

There was a brand on his forehead, similar to the mark around the neck of an Acolyte, he assumed. It was in the shape of a pawprint, a jaguar's pawprint most likely. The jaguar had told him he had a day to decide if he wanted to be an Acolyte or not, that the temple would take him in if he went. This brand must have been proof that he was chosen by a god to be an Acolyte. He pressed his fingers against it, but it didn't feel any different from his normal skin. Turning his head to the side, he could see it glimmered iridescently, colors swimming in and out of focus as he looked at it.

“Couldn't have put it somewhere less conspicuous, could you?" He sighed, staring into his reflection's eyes.

He tried to determine into whose eyes he was gazing. A stagehand or an Acolyte.

/////

The most pertinent reason that Jason had given up thieving was because of the stability he was afforded through his job at the theater. It provided a comfortable life with consistent pay and work that he didn't hate doing, all things that he would have thought impossible for him to obtain during the earlier parts of his life. Now that it was something he had, a different impossible opportunity had presented itself. Jason valued his stability, so his heart beat with trepidation as he walked down the main plaza towards the Acolyte temple.

A hat nicked from the costume room at the theater rested atop his head, positioned to partially hide the glowing mark on his forehead, and a hastily packed bag dangled from his shoulder. The plaza was crowded but not congested, and none of the faithful coming and going paid any attention to Jason. He had a view of the temple, a stepped pyramid that jutted proudly above the neighboring buildings. The temple was large enough as it was, but religious services were often held in the courtyard, and during those services, it was possible to catch glimpses of stairways leading down into rooms carved into the stone below the ground.

Once Jason presented himself to the temple guards, if they accepted him in and this wasn't a cruel prank, going back would be difficult to say the least. He didn't know of any specific individuals who had ever pulled out of the Acolyte training, but then again, he didn't know of anyone his age ever admitted to the program, either. Regardless of his ability to leave the temple, his position at the theater would likely be filled by the time he got back, so no matter what, Jason was giving up the stability he had worked hard for in exchange for a gamble.

The temple guards were hard-faced, staring forward with a steel gaze. They both held polearms and wore the same kilt uniform as any Acolyte would. The door to the temple grounds was shut. There wasn't any regular service today, though that didn't mean the temple was inaccessible. One just needed a good enough reason to pass. Jason had a magic brand on his forehead, he hoped that was reason enough to let him through.

“Excuse me." He hailed the guard as he came up to the closed gate.

“How can I help you?" The guard asked, though he kept his eyes locked forward.

Jason took a deep breath and then dove straight to the point. “Earlier this evening, I was visited by one of the young gods. He put this mark on my forehead and told me to come to the temple. He said I was to be taken in as an Acolyte trainee." He lifted his hat to show off the brand.

The guard glanced over at the brand and then looked back up. “Your eyes aren't emerald. How do I know this isn't just an elaborate tattoo?"

“Look closer, it's definitely magical." Jason held his hat up. The brand was still glowing softly, not quite as bright as when it was first applied, but still noticeable. It was a deep black that showed hints of a rainbow of colors depending on the angle of the light.

The guard looked down at Jason's forehead, and then back forward as his mind churned what Jason was telling him. He didn't seem to be the brightest individual, but when you chose your members based on the colors of their eyes, you were bound to get a few duds. After a moment of consideration, the guard nodded. He knocked on the gate heavily, and a small slot opened, revealing a set of eyes on the other side.

“You there, fetch a Priest. Not an Attendant, mind you. A Priest or better." The guard commanded, and the slot closed without a response.

Jason stood by the side of the gate, looking around with nothing to do while he waited. He inspected the guards, looked closer at their uniforms, outfits that he had seen at a distance but never up closer. The kilt was utilitarian, it would keep the legs warm, and Jason could see the guardsman's bare legs past the end of the kilt. There was a copper anklet, worn by one guard but not the other, that didn't appear to be part of the uniform, or if it was, possibly signified rank. The tunic the guard wore on top was simple as well, tucked into the kilt, and was light enough to be worn under leathers if necessary. The guards paid no attention to Jason as time passed, and the waiting went from awkward to boring.

The slot of the door slid open again, and the guard turned to converse with whoever was on the far side. After a short exchange of words, the slot closed and the gate began to swing open. Jason stood with his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides as he watched. A man was standing on the other side of the gate, with shaved black hair that was shorter than his bushy eyebrows, and eyes angled in a way that made him look perpetually angry. A slight shadow had begun to show around his chin, and his lips were twisted into a scowl. Unlike the guards, the man wasn't wearing a kilt or a tunic. Instead, he was dressed in a black dyed loin cloth and he had an animal skin thrown over his shoulders. His stomach and legs showed off the well toned muscles of an athletic build.

“What are you waiting for? Come in." The man commanded.

Eyeing the man cautiously, Jason accepted the invitation and apprehensively walked forward, through the gate and into a world he did not know. The courtyard of the temple was familiar ground, but he had never been inside so late at night. The yard was lit mostly by live torches, though there were some Relics around to provide perpetual light. The air had a slight chill to it, and Jason was surprised to see the priest wearing almost nothing outside. The air grew colder as the gate swung shut behind Jason.

Without a word, the man pulled Jason's hat off and dropped it in the dirt. Jason bent to pick it up, he still intended to return it to the theater, but the Priest grabbed his upper arm to hold him in place. Leaning in closer, the Priest used his free hand to move aside the bits of Jason's hair that blocked the brand and looked at it intently.

“Do you know the name of the Indicia that branded you?" The Priest asked.

“No sir." Jason answered honestly, shaking the pain out of his arm as the Priest let him go.

“It does indeed appear to be the brand of a god." The Priest stepped back and worked the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. After a long sigh, he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I will have to discuss this with my order, but if a god chose you for training," the man cast his gaze aside, “I find it unlikely we will come to second guess his wisdom."

“So I'm in?" Jason asked, reaching down to pick up his hat.

“Leave the hat. You won't need it anymore. For now, it seems that you are 'in'. I am High Priest Levant, and you will henceforth address me as such. Welcome to the temple, Initiate." The High Priest said.

Jason's heart skipped when the man identified himself as the High Priest. He had seen the man give services at the temple before, but he had never been this close to him, and he hadn't assumed the High Priest himself would come to the gate to deal with the situation. Either way, High Priest Levant did not sound happy about Jason's arrival. Leaving the hat where it was, Jason stood straight up. “Yes, High Priest."

Levant began to make his way back towards the temple with Jason following hastily behind. “I will find you an Attendant to see to it that your initiation is carried out properly, Initiate."

“My initiation?" Jason followed the High Priest into the halls of the temple.

“When the children are brought here to be initiates, there is a certain process that we follow. A tradition, the way that the young gods like it to be." Levant stopped in the hallway and turned on Jason. “There are many traditions that we follow here. You will have to learn quite a bit, a lifetime worth of teaching, in very short order. That you have come at all, even under offer from a god, proves that you are a fool." Jason opened his mouth to reply, but the High Priest cut him off. “Do not speak. You will learn when it is your time to speak." Levant's eyes glanced up, past Jason, and he called out, “You there! Come!"

Jason turned to see who he was talking to. It was a teenage boy, not too much younger than Jason but not yet fully a man. He wore even less than the High Priest, an undecorated leather loincloth hanging low on his waist was all the clothing he had on his body. Similar to the guard outside, the boy had several simple metallic bracelets on his wrist. Red hair mopped on his head, longer than Jason would've expected to be allowed on an Initiate. The boy had a friendly face with bright eyes, and that made Jason feel slightly more at ease. He stood at attention and waited for the High Priest to continue.

“This man here is going to be joining as an Initiate. It is unorthodox, I'm aware, so save me your surprised gawping. I need to discuss this matter with the Priests, none of whom shall be happy to do so in the middle of the night, but it must be dealt with. In the meantime, as I severely doubt we will be questioning the will of the god that has sent this man to us, I need you to drop whatever else you are doing and initiate this man." The High Priest explained.

“Yes, High Priest. I take it you mean the traditional initiation ceremony? Normally, Initiates are much younger." The boy asked.

“Yes, the traditional way. If he wishes to join us, he must be one of us. Afterwards, he will spend the night in your chambers. By morning, we will have decided more fully what to do with him." The High Priest said, and with a wave, he took his leave.

“Jason." He said, introducing himself to the boy.

“Buta." The boy said with a smile.

“So, uh, initiation?" Jason asked.

“Right." The smile faded for a second, but this it returned in earnest. “The traditional initiation is designed for kids, but an order from the High Priest is an order from the High Priest. I don't want to hear any complaining on your part, okay?"

“Alright, Buta. I'm at your mercy." Jason gave a hesitant smile, trusting that the youth wouldn't mistreat him.

“You say that now…" Buta replied, and he beckoned for Jason to follow him.

Jason trotted behind the youth as they made their way through the labyrinthine temple halls. In time, he would be able to learn his way through them, Jason was sure. He'd learned the city streets like the back of his hand in his time as a pickpocket, the best ways to get in and out of most of the city without being seen. The one place he had never had a chance to explore was the innards of the temple. It was built of unadorned, but well fitted stone. Glimpses of Acolytes and Initiates as they passed were tantalizing. Jason wanted to stop and watch what they were up to, but Buta moved quickly and allowed no time for sightseeing.

The room where Buta finally came to a stop had an obvious purpose. The chamber had higher ceilings than many of the other rooms in the temple and a series of pools cut out into the floor, connected by narrow channels. Each pool was a step lower than the last, and the water that entered the top pool flowed through the channels, down all the way to the final pool where it drained out somewhere unseen. It was a bath. An old-fashioned bath, designed to make use of a natural water source, but Jason was able to determine its purpose without trouble. It was empty, currently, save for the oppressively humid air and Buta.

“A bath does sound relaxing right about now." Jason said, moving to step past the youth into the bath house.

Buta held his arm out to block Jason. “Hold on. Remember I said that we have to do a traditional initiation?"

“I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this." Jason muttered quickly.

“When we bring the newest Initiates in, they're infants. It falls to the attendants to make sure they're washed properly." Buta explained.

“I'm old enough to wash myself." Jason said with confidence.

“The traditional initiation isn't just about making sure you're clean. It's about making sure you're cleansed. The gods don't want to take an initiate that is still marred by the filth of the world outside. The temple was designed to protect us from the corruptive influences of the outside world. That is what I've got to wash away. That and dirt." Buta said.

“Accepting me into the temple is an exception, surely we can make an exception here, too." Jason said.

“An order from the High Priest is an order from the High Priest. Trust me," Buta looked at Jason intently, “you do not want to disobey him." Buta backed into the baths and waved Jason in after him.

Without a second thought, Buta untied the sash that held his loincloth on. The long strip of cloth ran between his legs, and he pulled it out in front before neatly folding it and placing it along the side of the room. He kept the bracelets on. Jason averted his eyes from Buta's naked form, not expecting the youth to strip naked so quickly and without warning.

“Come on, you can't bathe with your clothes on." Buta approached Jason and started to grab at his shirt.

“Hold on, I haven't agreed to this yet." Jason dropped his bag on the ground so he could use both of his hands to defend his shirt.

“You wanted to join the temple. This is step one. It's too late to back out now." Buta said.

“Is it really, though? Maybe I'll just go." Jason considered the possibility. Walking out and going home wasn't impossible.

“You'd be willing to give up this opportunity because you don't want to be naked in front of other guys? If you do stay, trust me, you'll be taking baths in here with all the other Initiates and Acolytes, and you'll be happy to do it." Buta insisted, making a face that was a cross between a pout and boyish joy.

Buta came across as a puppy, shining eyes gazing up at Jason hopefully. Jason had never owned a pet before, though there were times when the stray cats living on the streets of the city were closer companions to him than any people. After his mother died, Jason had fit in better with lost animals than with any humans, but that was in the past. He found the job at the theater, he made something of himself, he pulled himself out of the gutter. Still, something in Buta's face brought back memories of living on the street, and striving to find a place where he could belong.

“The Faith takes boys like me from our birth families at a young age for a reason. It's because the Indicia are our true family, we were chosen by the gods. Maybe you don't have the same eyes as we do, but evidently, you were chosen. The gods wouldn't make a mistake on that. If you were chosen, you're meant to be here. Even if it took a while for you to find your way here, the Indicia are your family. The temple is your family." Buta said.

Jason didn't give much weight to fate, it didn't seem possible that everything that happened could happen for a reason, that anything was preordained. The world was too chaotic, life was too unpredictable. The words 'meant to be' didn't resonate with Jason, he knew full well that, even given the decree of a god, he had the choice to walk away. There was always a choice, and it was choices that defined a man.

Along with choice came opportunity. Before Jason was an opportunity with a Hell of a cost, but the possible benefits were incredible. In his haste to reach the temple, Jason truly hadn't had much time to consider what it would mean to commit to the Faith. He understood that it would mean leaving his old life behind, but he hadn't felt the gravity of that decision until just then. To accept the initiation, or to walk away. Jason knew it would be a choice that would define the rest of his life.

Myriad emotions stormed inside his chest, and through them all, he felt drawn to the temple, drawn to accept his calling. Before he could change his mind again, he started to take off his shirt. Buta's face, which Jason made sure to keep his eyes on lest he see something of the youth that he didn't want to see, lit up. The attendant grabbed Jason's bag of belongings and placed it along the wall by his loincloth.

First off was Jason's shirt, which Buta carefully folded and placed with their things. Buta snatched up Jason's shoes just as quickly, as well as his pants. Jason paused when it came to just his underwear. He noticed now, while standing mostly nude next to the youth, that Buta had an impressively athletic build. Jason would have considered himself to be in shape, first as a thief and then clambering around catwalks and carrying set pieces as a stagehand, but put on display next to Buta, he was nearly ashamed of himself. The physical training the Initiates underwent must have been every bit as extensive as the magical.

Even though Jason paused, Buta didn't. The youth's hands grabbed the waist of Jason's underwear and tugged them down, and Jason didn't counter quickly enough this time. The fabric slid down his legs, leaving him feeling more vulnerable and exposed than he expected. He kicked the underwear off and let Buta stash the garment to the side with the rest of his things. While Buta was busy, Jason's hands naturally fell to his groin, cupping his equipment and hiding it from view. The attendant chuckled when he saw Jason covering himself, but he didn't comment.

Standing by the edge of one of the pools, the water glistened, some sort of light from below illuminating the pool in a gentle aquamarine color. Jason climbed into one of the middle pools and found the water to be pleasantly warm. It wasn't hot, but it was comfortable. There was a ledge around the outside edge to sit on, and a deeper depression in the center to put his legs. As he got situated, leaning back on the stone edge of the pool, Buta produced a basket of sponges and soaps from somewhere along the wall. Jason's concern melted out of him and into the water as he let the warmth envelop him.

The concern snapped back to him as Buta placed a sponge, saturated with some sort of soap, against his upper arm. The soap immediately brought a tingle to his skin, and though it wasn't unpleasant, it was unexpected.

“Relax." Buta instructed as he ran the sponge along Jason's arm.

Buta took Jason's wrist in hand and held his arm out to length so he was able to run the tingling sponge along its entirety. The tingling only lasted for a moment before it subsided, and by the time the arm was fully covered in suds, all the tingling had stopped. Buta repeated the process on Jason's other arm, and Jason knew full well that when his arms were done, the bath would then become a lot less comfortable.

The sponge was used next on Jason's back, which he had to sit forward for, elbows leaning on his knees. Buta washed vigorously, the sponge had a rough texture which felt good on Jason's skin, which combined with the tingle from the soap was very relaxing. Buta stopped at Jason's lower back and moved around, repositioning Jason so that he could reach his neck and chest all the way down to his belly. Jason tried to keep his hands covering his exposed crotch, but Buta firmly moved them aside.

Washing his front felt as good as washing his back, and Jason settled back against the wall with his eyes closed, enjoying the treatment. It wasn't as bad as he had expected. Buta sponged his chest and belly, making sure to wash well around the sides of his waist. With his entire upper body clean, Buta wasted no time moving on to the lower body.

Jason's eyes shot open as the youth's hands grabbed gently at his length and held it for washing. The tingle of the soap was stronger here, though Jason wasn't certain that all of the tingling he felt was because of the soap. He reminded himself that the bath wasn't sexual, but that didn't stop his cock from beginning to stand up at attention. He didn't become fully erect in Buta's hands, but he responded enough that Buta would notice, and at that, Jason's face flushed. The youth's hands moved on quickly, leaving Jason's cock strangely wanting. The tingling continued as the youth washed meticulously under Jason's balls. Focus was necessary to keep his breathing steady, and Jason continued to remind himself that it wasn't sexual.

As he focused his mind on trying to shake his growing arousal, his eyes came to focus on Buta. The youth was biting his tongue as he worked, clearly invested in doing the job properly. The other thing that stood out about the youth was his own erection, which unlike Jason's, was at full mast. Jason's heart beat faster, and he was surprised to find that seeing Buta's arousal sparked his own, making it even harder to ignore.

Mercifully, Buta finished with Jason's crotch and moved on. The youth had Jason stand so he could wash his rear and legs. Buta did an incredibly thorough job of cleaning Jason's butt, pushing the sponge up where Jason would have preferred he didn't. Finished there, the youth made his way down Jason's legs, and finally, his entire body had been cleaned. As they were washing, the water had run out of the pool and fresh water had run in. Buta instructed Jason to dunk himself completely in the water to make sure he was well rinsed.

Jason did as he was instructed, dropping into a squat in the center of the pool, dunking his head fully under the water. He kept his eyes open and found that he had inadvertently dunked his head directly in front of Buta's slowly softening erection. He leaned away from it, made sure to stay under long enough to rinse the soap off, and then popped his head back above the water. Buta was grinning at him.

“We're all done for now. Come on, let's get to sleep. The High Priest will send someone to explain everything else to you in the morning." Buta stepped unceremoniously out of the water. “That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Jason didn't answer, he just followed Buta out of the pool. Looking around the wall for where Buta had placed his bag and clothes, he was surprised to find that they were gone. Instead, folded next to Buta's loincloth was a matching strip of buckskin.

“Where's my stuff?" Jason asked.

“You won't need your old clothes anymore. Now you'll be wearing the garb of the Initiate. Once you become an Acolyte, you'll wear their uniform. For now, this is it." Buta smiled, handing Jason the strip of cloth and a sash.

Jason had absolutely no idea how to put the cloth on, and even if he did, he would feel unquestionably exposed. He stood naked, dripping water, staring at the loincloth as Buta quickly dressed. “What about my bag of things?"

“One of the acolytes will go through the bag, decide what you still need, and return that to you in the sleeping chambers. Anything that isn't allowed in the temple will be discarded." Buta said, and without having to be asked, he took the strip of cloth from Jason's hands.

The youth held one of the ends of the cloth up by Jason's chest and told him to hold it there. Then he passed the other of the cloth through Jason's legs and held it up against his back. Pulling the strip all the way up, it provided cover for Jason's groin in a way similar to briefs. With a single hand, Buta expertly tied the sash around Jason's waist and then let the back of the loincloth go. Jason let go as well, and looked down at himself in the Initiate's garb. A single strip of cloth, passed through the legs, providing only the barest of cover, and that said nothing of what it would look like if he got another unexpected erection.

“You look great!" Buta exclaimed, slapping Jason sharply on his ass.

Jason stumbled forward a step and glared sideways at the youth. “I feel naked."

“We are all naked in front of the gods." Buta said in an overly grandiose voice that sounded a bit like High Priest Levant.

“What if I get cold?" Jason asked, already growing chilly in his extremities. He may have been a thief, lived on the streets, but at least he'd always had clothes. Now he was wearing less than his underwear.

Buta waved for Jason to follow him out of the baths and back into the maze of hallways. “Then I suggest you find someone to get close to for warmth. I'm always available." The youth said with a surreptitious wink.

“I'll pass, thanks." Jason said, though the image of Buta's erection under the water, and the feeling of his own as Buta handled him, flashed through his mind. He followed Buta quietly through the serene temple halls.

“The sleeping chambers are divided up by rough age group, so tonight, you'll be sharing with the initiates in my age group. It's late, so try not to make too much noise. You may not like what'll happen to you if you wake some of the older Initiates. You can choose any open bed you like. I'll give you one more piece of advice before we go in." Buta whispered, stopping just outside the door to a large, dark chamber.

“What's that?" Jason asked.

“Even though you got a little worked up during the bath, don't act on it." Buta said.

“Don't act on what?" Jason said.

“Don't masturbate. That's the only warning you're going to get. Otherwise, you'll find yourself in hot water." Buta said.

“I didn't plan on it. Not while I'm sharing a room with a bunch of guys. Anyway, I didn't get 'worked up'." Jason said.

“That's what they all say." Buta warned.

Without saying anything else, Buta led Jason into the dark chamber. The lights were out, so it was hard to see, but it was a large space filled with row after row of beds that were little more than cots. Each bed could only comfortably fit one person, though Jason saw a few where a second boy was piled on top or hanging off the side. The only noise in the room was the breathing coming from the occupied cots, and Buta walked silently to an empty bed and gestured to it.

Jason began to say something, but Buta put a finger up over his lips, and Jason obeyed. Another gesture from Buta for Jason to use the cot in front of them. Jason took a deep breath and nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was firm and relatively uncomfortable, but there were times when Jason had slept on less. He looked around the room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. It would be a while before he was ready to sleep, so he looked around at the sleeping Initiates as he waited. Buta disappeared into another cot somewhere, and Jason had hardly seen him leave.

The faint figures sleeping in the cots shrouded in the darkness, as Buta had said, were his family now. Jason had been without family for a long time, he didn't see that changing anytime soon. He didn't know if he had it within him to become an Acolyte like these other Initiates that had been training their entire lives. Close by but separated by shadows, Jason wondered what the Initiates were like. He wondered what sorts of people they would be. He wondered what sort of person he would be.

After all, he was chosen by a god. That had to count for something.