The things beyond her means, if she did not make use of them, she would end up simply following playful orders as a priest.
“Then I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Eutostea massaged her neck. She heard a thud.
“I’m going to drink a little more from the side. Just pretend I don’t exist and sleep.” Dionysus filled the glass again.
Eutostea laughed in vain. “It’s already crowded with Apollo.”
“Should I take him away if you’re bothered?” Dionysus beckoned Mariad, signaling for him to drag the unconscious god out. Eutostea stopped the purring leopard on her bed by touching his nose.
“When he sleeps, he uses all awareness of the outside world until dawn. Let him be.”
“You know quite a little bit about his sleeping habits, Eutostea.” Dionysus murmured with a smile.
His priest pretended not to hear and turned her back to sleep, burying herself in the leopard’s fur. The winner was Eonia. With her front paw put protectively on Eutostea’s head, the animal’s eyes watched both Dionysus and Apollo threateningly.
***
Apollo awoke at dawn. Dionysus saw and did not argue with him. The secret promise he made yesterday with Eutostea had already given him full pleasure and rendered Apollo’s existence as insignificant as a flea to him.
“What did the god of foresight dream of?”
“I didn’t dream.”
Apollo glanced at the sleeping face of Eutostea and went out of the inner room.
“Where are you going? I’m not walking you to the door.” Dionysus smiled and waved brightly as if he were laying off a decade-old burden and sat back on Eutostea’s bed, tilting his glass. Moussa played the lira for him, relying on the light of the fireflies.
It was only the next day that Dionysus saw the proud face of Apollo again around lunchtime.
Eutostea felt like the messy ordeal of the alcohol flowing from her hand happened a long time ago. She checked again this morning and her palm was fine. As a test, she grabbed the golden cup of Dionysus, and getting a sensation akin to dipping her hand in cold water, she filled the glass from the bottom up. It was white thyme honey mead, not wine. Eutostea confirmed that her abilities had not disappeared completely, and decided to be careful not to accidentally overuse her strength. She saw yesterday that her alcohol was dangerous.
She added more firewood to keep the brass bowl from going out and picked up the charcoal with a poker. She checked the bucket of candles that she had placed in the basement. The candle had hardened wonderfully. When the wax was as soft as jelly, it was taken out of the mold and cut one by one so that the wick was centered.
She sat down with the Moussa and rolled the wax over the open leather. When the shape was established, the top part of the wick was fixed again with tongs, put in a lukewarm wax container, and gradually increased the thickness.
“What shall I do?” Dionysus sat next to Eutostea like a little gosling following the mother goose.
His priest ordered him without looking at him. “Please move the altar that is being rained on outside back to thea*sembly hall.”
“I don’t have anywhere to put it’”
The square-shaped marble altar was wide and flat enough for five adults to lie down. On the side was his symbol, the grapevine, incised. She was worried that the delicate piece would wear out in the rain and wind. When Dionysus said that there was no room for it, Eutostea looked at the pond, which was filling thea*sembly hall.
“Put me in the pool.” When the wind blew, the waves shook and the scent of thyme pierced her nose. “Place flat stones on both sides of the altar. So that you can reach it without wetting your feet with alcohol. When I went to the river yesterday, I saw some stones that you could use.”
“Hmm. I get it.” Dionysus rose from his seat and looked over the tidya*sembly hall. “It’ll be great when it gets done. I think it will be a beautiful place to fit my reputation, Eutostea.”
It was a generous compliment.
“I hope so, Dionysus,” Eutostea answered dryly.
Looking at his retreating back, Eutostea filled a second wax container with the Moussa. It was a repetitive task. Cutting them into pieces, lumping them together, forming them, and immersing them in a new wax can. The season was gradually getting colder and drier. In winter, honeybees were not active, so they were going to diligently make candles while they could get wax.
“Argh!” The Moussa, who was combing the sun-bathing leopard’s hair, found something and screamed.
Eutostea lifted her head sharply. As she walked out of the basement wiping his wax-stained hands with a cloth, she saw someone surrounded by several of the Moussa.
The things beyond her means, if she did not make use of them, she would end up simply following playful orders as a priest.
“Then I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Eutostea massaged her neck. She heard a thud.
“I’m going to drink a little more from the side. Just pretend I don’t exist and sleep.” Dionysus filled the glass again.
Eutostea laughed in vain. “It’s already crowded with Apollo.”
“Should I take him away if you’re bothered?” Dionysus beckoned Mariad, signaling for him to drag the unconscious god out. Eutostea stopped the purring leopard on her bed by touching his nose.
“When he sleeps, he uses all awareness of the outside world until dawn. Let him be.”
“You know quite a little bit about his sleeping habits, Eutostea.” Dionysus murmured with a smile.
His priest pretended not to hear and turned her back to sleep, burying herself in the leopard’s fur. The winner was Eonia. With her front paw put protectively on Eutostea’s head, the animal’s eyes watched both Dionysus and Apollo threateningly.
***
Apollo awoke at dawn. Dionysus saw and did not argue with him. The secret promise he made yesterday with Eutostea had already given him full pleasure and rendered Apollo’s existence as insignificant as a flea to him.
“What did the god of foresight dream of?”
“I didn’t dream.”
Apollo glanced at the sleeping face of Eutostea and went out of the inner room.
“Where are you going? I’m not walking you to the door.” Dionysus smiled and waved brightly as if he were laying off a decade-old burden and sat back on Eutostea’s bed, tilting his glass. Moussa played the lira for him, relying on the light of the fireflies.
It was only the next day that Dionysus saw the proud face of Apollo again around lunchtime.
Eutostea felt like the messy ordeal of the alcohol flowing from her hand happened a long time ago. She checked again this morning and her palm was fine. As a test, she grabbed the golden cup of Dionysus, and getting a sensation akin to dipping her hand in cold water, she filled the glass from the bottom up. It was white thyme honey mead, not wine. Eutostea confirmed that her abilities had not disappeared completely, and decided to be careful not to accidentally overuse her strength. She saw yesterday that her alcohol was dangerous.
She added more firewood to keep the brass bowl from going out and picked up the charcoal with a poker. She checked the bucket of candles that she had placed in the basement. The candle had hardened wonderfully. When the wax was as soft as jelly, it was taken out of the mold and cut one by one so that the wick was centered.
She sat down with the Moussa and rolled the wax over the open leather. When the shape was established, the top part of the wick was fixed again with tongs, put in a lukewarm wax container, and gradually increased the thickness.
“What shall I do?” Dionysus sat next to Eutostea like a little gosling following the mother goose.
His priest ordered him without looking at him. “Please move the altar that is being rained on outside back to thea*sembly hall.”
“I don’t have anywhere to put it’”
The square-shaped marble altar was wide and flat enough for five adults to lie down. On the side was his symbol, the grapevine, incised. She was worried that the delicate piece would wear out in the rain and wind. When Dionysus said that there was no room for it, Eutostea looked at the pond, which was filling thea*sembly hall.
“Put me in the pool.” When the wind blew, the waves shook and the scent of thyme pierced her nose. “Place flat stones on both sides of the altar. So that you can reach it without wetting your feet with alcohol. When I went to the river yesterday, I saw some stones that you could use.”
“Hmm. I get it.” Dionysus rose from his seat and looked over the tidya*sembly hall. “It’ll be great when it gets done. I think it will be a beautiful place to fit my reputation, Eutostea.”
It was a generous compliment.
“I hope so, Dionysus,” Eutostea answered dryly.
Looking at his retreating back, Eutostea filled a second wax container with the Moussa. It was a repetitive task. Cutting them into pieces, lumping them together, forming them, and immersing them in a new wax can. The season was gradually getting colder and drier. In winter, honeybees were not active, so they were going to diligently make candles while they could get wax.
“Argh!” The Moussa, who was combing the sun-bathing leopard’s hair, found something and screamed.
Eutostea lifted her head sharply. As she walked out of the basement wiping his wax-stained hands with a cloth, she saw someone surrounded by several of the Moussa.
