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After the ritual was over, and the panicking people had finally cleared out like the worms they were, Jean-Luc walked back towards the Coven House, hands in his pockets, a few steps detached from the rest of the group, not so far as to be clearly detached, but far enough to be alone in his thoughts as he pondered. Walking alone, he thought about his past, and how everything had accumulated up to this point, where he was now a witch in this coven. Jean-Luc looked down at his wrist. Outside of a small patch of slightly lighter skin, the color of milk chocolate in a sea of ebony darkness, his wrist was entirely healed over, without so much as a blemish. Jean-Luc felt a spark of pride inside at his successful healing, but that pride was quickly drowned out by a wave of ambition. This was only the first stepping stone across the creek. There was still much to be accomplished. 

Upon returning to the Coven House, Jean-Luc's shiny coal eyes scanned the area, looking for his parents. The search did not take long, in part because of his parents' ability to stand out in a crowd. For one, his father was a titan, standing at 6'5" with a modestly hunched back. He had coal-black skin and cropped curly hair, just like his son, and a pair of thick-framed walnut-colored glasses sat perched on his nose. Emmanuel Laguerre was wearing a blue button-down shirt with a handkerchief spilling haphazardly out of his breast pocket, his ocean-blue tie a little too loose. He looked eccentric for sure, perhaps too much so. His mother, Stéphanie, stood out as well, though in a less quirky way. A stunning woman with coffee-colored skin and lavish rich locks of thick dark hair that cascaded in waves down her back, Jean-Luc's mother was much shorter than her husband but made it up for in glamour that her other half lacked. Lastly, Jean-Luc's sister, Lovelie, hovered near her parents. Lovelie was short at only 5'3" with curly pecan hair and darker hickory skin, with sleek pointed glasses perched in front of her boisterous brown eyes, her thin fingers dusting off the edge of her sundress. Lovelie was a witchling a year Jean-Luc's junior and was planning on joining the Coven next year, and the girl was nearly the polar opposite of Jean-Luc: socially vibrant and extremely warm, but magically very klutzy. She still had great talent and was looking forward to joining the Coven immensely, and had already spent much of the day trying to mingle with as many people as she could. 

His family, once they noticed the youth returning from the wellspring, descended upon him like vultures would upon a carcass. After a lot of hugs and kisses that Jean-Luc accepted reluctantly, standing still as a statue as his family gave him compliments of all kinds and told him how proud they were. Jean-Luc's lips remained pursed as they flattered him, before they eventually spread apart to go mingle elsewhere-  Stéphanie went to hang out with some of the other older witches, and Lovelie roamed around seeking an older peer to talk to. Emmanuel, nursing a cup full of mysterious liquid, gave Jean-Luc a pat on the back and a wide smile. "Fyè de ou, pitit gason," he said wistfully, before walking off. 

That same well of pride built up again for a moment before simmering away as Sister Lark called for their attentions. She then announced that the initiates would be going-...ugh, [i]camping.[/i] Jean-Luc was looking forward to actually staying at the Coven House, but he supposed that the tradition, however pointless, would be kept one way or another, and so, after fetching his pajamas, he journeyed off with Lark into the woods.

[color=DarkMagenta]"Fantastic,"[/color] Jean-Luc muttered sarcastically as he made his way into the forest, emerging soon after dressed in his [url=https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1007/6022/products/fpl_mn_fln_pjSet_P48C1_NVRD_large.jpg?v=1590783086]pajamas[/url]. Walking over, he scanned the area. Small pockets of the newly-inducted witches had formed into small groups, and Jean-Luc had no intention of butting into any of these social circles. He stalked around the campfire a half-lap before taking a seat next to the blonde girl, Maggie, and crossing his legs. Looking into the flickering fire quietly, he removed the book that was currently tucked under his arm- a thick, vintage-looking hard-cover book with swirling violet glyphs decorating the beaten brown cover- and gazed silently, in contemplation.

After a few moments of somewhat awkward silence, Jean-Luc spoke, his voice quiet and laced with the soothing sounds of a pleasant Creole accent. [color=DarkMagenta]"What's the book about, eh?"[/color] he asked Maggie, nodding his head in the direction of Maggie's book, his lips forming a straight line, unsmiling, but his tone soft and welcoming. He was not happy to be there, for sure, and he would've liked nothing better than to curl up in his nice, warm bed, but he might as well not sulk anymore today. As his sister constantly told him, he sulked way too much already. 

[@Melissa][/center][hr][hr]