Dionysus awoke from his nap with a disheveled look about him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been diligently sweeping and polishing the place while I was asleep, Eutostea?” he yawned while looking around the temple, noticing the cleared altar smelled of raw meat.
“No matter how much I think about it, I don’t understand how you can sleep so casually wherever you like so casually,” Eutostea breathed out a sigh.
“I sleep well on the floor, too. This is a great bed.”
“This is the altar.”
“Yes. I eat and sleep here.”
“It’s an altar. Come down now. I’ll have to clean it one more time.”
“Am I dirty, Eutostea?”
“Did you wash up today?”
“No…? But I don’t smell, right?”
“I’d like to ask the god of the Pactolus River to plunge you into his river if I could. Get up quickly.”
“A-are you serious?” He stared, flabbergasted.
“I’m serious.”
“…..”
Dionysus came down from the altar, wiggling his head. Eutostea picked up a dry straw and swept the altar where he slept previously. Dionysus looked at her oddly. No matter how much he looked at it, the marble of the altar looked clean to him. How much more did she need to clean it? He stood on the stepping-stone, playfully reclined his body, and wrapped her bent waist in his forearm.
“What are you doing? Ah, well, you need some of this!”
As he lifted her on his shoulder and splashed her into the pond, Eutostea screamed and punched him on the back.
“Dionysus!”
“You told me to wash up. Look, there’s a lot of water here.”
“It’s alcohol!”
“Then it’ll be cleaner than water. I wash my face with alcohol, you know? I’ll only smell better because I’m soaking myself completely in your fragrant liquor.”
“Nonsense!”
“It’s fine as long as I don’t drink it. Here, look. I won’t say a word from now on. Alcohol won’t go into my mouth.”
There was a big splash of water. Dionysus laid in the pond with Eutostea in his arms. He closed his mouth and covered his nose. Eutostea, on the other hand, took a mouthful gulp of alcohol. It tasted like water. It was harmless to her, but she couldn’t avoid getting wet. It wasn’t until she was fully soaked that Dionysus let her go. Eutostea swam out to the edge of the pool, beating him violently with her free hand.
“Hahaha!” Dionysus laughed loudly, shaking off the alcohol on his face.
‘He’s a real nutcase. A total lunatic!’
“Sorry, I was just joking, Eutostea. Aw, come on. Don’t look so angry. It doesn’t look good on your cute face. But look at this. We’re both soaking wet!”
Eutostea seeing him laugh so cheerfully quelled her anger. It was a joke, a sick maddening joke to flounder and swim in a pond of dangerous liquor despite the high risk of going over the Styx River with only one sip.
“Yes, thanks to you, I took a cool bath. My clothes are all wet.” Shaking in the chilly wind, Eutostea approached the fire, leaving wet footprints. “Think of the person who’s going to clean up after you and splash the water in moderation. We should have dinner.”
“Yes, yes.”
Dionysus swept his hair away and left the pond. He dropped all his wet clothes on the side. The altar lights glistened merrily over his well-carved abs. Moussa handed him a new dress. Eutostea didn’t turn her eyes in his direction until he covered his lower body with a cloth. The leopard got a blanket for her. She squeezed alcohol out of her dripping hair and wrapped a blanket around her shoulder. When she put her hand into the bowl to light the candle a drop of alcohol fell in the lit a fire.
“I feel nice and happy. I don’t see the face I don’t like.”
“Lord Apollo?”
“Yes,” he clicked his tongue, “but he’ll come again.”
Eutostea agreed with him.
“Did anyone come to the temple while I was sleeping?” asked Dionysus.”
“No. No one came.”
“You’re disappointed, aren’t you? I’m sorry. I’m an unpopular god, so I can’t attract a single devotee…”
“It’s still the first day,” said Eutostea, tearing a slice of white bread and putting it in her mouth. “And I’m not one to be easily disappointed, Dionysus.”
Dionysus looked at her face while drinking wine. She had discovered that she would be trapped here—maybe for the rest of her life—but there wasn’t a sign of melancholy on her face. Ever since she rolled up her sleeves to repair the temple, Eutostea acted according to the blueprints she had in her head. In the plans she designed, what role did Apollo and Dionysus play? In her eyes, what was he to her? Dionysus’ mind began to wander.
Dionysus awoke from his nap with a disheveled look about him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been diligently sweeping and polishing the place while I was asleep, Eutostea?” he yawned while looking around the temple, noticing the cleared altar smelled of raw meat.
“No matter how much I think about it, I don’t understand how you can sleep so casually wherever you like so casually,” Eutostea breathed out a sigh.
“I sleep well on the floor, too. This is a great bed.”
“This is the altar.”
“Yes. I eat and sleep here.”
“It’s an altar. Come down now. I’ll have to clean it one more time.”
“Am I dirty, Eutostea?”
“Did you wash up today?”
“No…? But I don’t smell, right?”
“I’d like to ask the god of the Pactolus River to plunge you into his river if I could. Get up quickly.”
“A-are you serious?” He stared, flabbergasted.
“I’m serious.”
“…..”
Dionysus came down from the altar, wiggling his head. Eutostea picked up a dry straw and swept the altar where he slept previously. Dionysus looked at her oddly. No matter how much he looked at it, the marble of the altar looked clean to him. How much more did she need to clean it? He stood on the stepping-stone, playfully reclined his body, and wrapped her bent waist in his forearm.
“What are you doing? Ah, well, you need some of this!”
As he lifted her on his shoulder and splashed her into the pond, Eutostea screamed and punched him on the back.
“Dionysus!”
“You told me to wash up. Look, there’s a lot of water here.”
“It’s alcohol!”
“Then it’ll be cleaner than water. I wash my face with alcohol, you know? I’ll only smell better because I’m soaking myself completely in your fragrant liquor.”
“Nonsense!”
“It’s fine as long as I don’t drink it. Here, look. I won’t say a word from now on. Alcohol won’t go into my mouth.”
There was a big splash of water. Dionysus laid in the pond with Eutostea in his arms. He closed his mouth and covered his nose. Eutostea, on the other hand, took a mouthful gulp of alcohol. It tasted like water. It was harmless to her, but she couldn’t avoid getting wet. It wasn’t until she was fully soaked that Dionysus let her go. Eutostea swam out to the edge of the pool, beating him violently with her free hand.
“Hahaha!” Dionysus laughed loudly, shaking off the alcohol on his face.
‘He’s a real nutcase. A total lunatic!’
“Sorry, I was just joking, Eutostea. Aw, come on. Don’t look so angry. It doesn’t look good on your cute face. But look at this. We’re both soaking wet!”
Eutostea seeing him laugh so cheerfully quelled her anger. It was a joke, a sick maddening joke to flounder and swim in a pond of dangerous liquor despite the high risk of going over the Styx River with only one sip.
“Yes, thanks to you, I took a cool bath. My clothes are all wet.” Shaking in the chilly wind, Eutostea approached the fire, leaving wet footprints. “Think of the person who’s going to clean up after you and splash the water in moderation. We should have dinner.”
“Yes, yes.”
Dionysus swept his hair away and left the pond. He dropped all his wet clothes on the side. The altar lights glistened merrily over his well-carved abs. Moussa handed him a new dress. Eutostea didn’t turn her eyes in his direction until he covered his lower body with a cloth. The leopard got a blanket for her. She squeezed alcohol out of her dripping hair and wrapped a blanket around her shoulder. When she put her hand into the bowl to light the candle a drop of alcohol fell in the lit a fire.
“I feel nice and happy. I don’t see the face I don’t like.”
“Lord Apollo?”
“Yes,” he clicked his tongue, “but he’ll come again.”
Eutostea agreed with him.
“Did anyone come to the temple while I was sleeping?” asked Dionysus.”
“No. No one came.”
“You’re disappointed, aren’t you? I’m sorry. I’m an unpopular god, so I can’t attract a single devotee…”
“It’s still the first day,” said Eutostea, tearing a slice of white bread and putting it in her mouth. “And I’m not one to be easily disappointed, Dionysus.”
Dionysus looked at her face while drinking wine. She had discovered that she would be trapped here—maybe for the rest of her life—but there wasn’t a sign of melancholy on her face. Ever since she rolled up her sleeves to repair the temple, Eutostea acted according to the blueprints she had in her head. In the plans she designed, what role did Apollo and Dionysus play? In her eyes, what was he to her? Dionysus’ mind began to wander.
