“What are you boys talking about?” Seraphim called.
“Percy’s tattoo,” Eleos answered.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying not to laugh. Seth laughed in my place.
“I regret it, alright?” Percy said. I could hear the water splash as he threw up his arms. “Leave me be, I’ve been through enough.”
“We can cover it,” Seth suggested. “Duath Nun is known for its tattoo artists.”
“How would you know that?”
“Seraphim.” He said quickly. “Look at hers. Where do you think she got them? Therapne?”
Eleos chortled. “The priests would faint.”
Tilting my head, I studied the tattoo painting Seraphim’s chest: two wicked horns curled up from her sternum and caressed her collarbone. “What does that one mean?” I asked.
She traced the black ink. “So many things. Motherhood, life, song, and dance. She’s Duath Nun’s chief goddess.”
“They have different gods?” I asked, intrigued.
“Many, many different gods.” Seraphim quietly confirmed.
“Hm,” Eleos grunted, unhappy. “You should have told me. I would have been fascinated.”
“Why listen to my poor tales when you could see their temples in person?”
“Fair.” Eleos conceded.
Dipping my head below water, I grabbed a bar of soap and lathered it through my locks. “So, what is your tattoo, Percy?”
He sighed laboriously. “Tits.”
“Really? How bad could that be?”
“Bad,” Seth said.
“Well, now I want to see them,” I said.
“Ogle me all you like,” Percy said, “if you get out first.”
“I’m sure I’ll see you naked later.” I said, “Right now, the baths call.”
“Oh? And why are you so sure of that?”
“We’re traveling together, sleeping in piles, patching each other’s wounds,” I shrugged, figuring the rest was obvious.
“Oh,” Percy said, noticeably disappointed.
Seraphim lifted an arm, displaying the tattoos running down her bicep. “Want to see the rest?”
Shimmying closer, I sat beside her, marveling at the ink. They bestowed an unusual beauty upon her, painting her as a goddess of war who could shield me from any threat.
Duathian symbols covered one arm, fascinating runes I couldn’t decipher. Snakes entwined the opposite arm, entangled in leafy vines. Flaming wings grew from her spine, my favorite of them all.
“We should get you one.” Seraphim decided.
“Won’t we be hunted? Will we have time?” I asked.
