Eutostea brought a good-measured axe previously used by Dionysus and Apollo from the underground storage where miscellaneous tools were stored. They are not wood logs, they are vines. Why doesn’t she just cut them down? Eutostea stood in front of the most formidable-looking wall and swung the axe with all her might. The surface of the vine, as if it were ironclad, pushed forward as if spitting out the axe’s blade. She’s been starving for two days. Her empty stomach rumbled. Eutostea axed a couple more times by sheer stubbornness and mental strength. She didn’t know what she was after. The axe was heavy, so she concentrated on swinging it. Depressingly enough, the wooden barrier in front of her seemed to be flawless. After five hits, Eutostea fell. She flung her ax and lay down on the floor. She was fed up with this. She sat down on her knees with a cough after another.
She raised her hand and touched the part where the axe blade was supposed to have struck. It was as smooth as new. It seemed to say that whatever she did was useless. Tears streamed out of her eyes. Eutostea twisted her face in anguish and picked up the axe slowly.
“It can’t even be pierced by Apollo’s arrow.”
Eutostea jerked back and Dionysus stood in the dark. He was carrying a lamp. His chest was as bright as holding the scarlet sphere close to it. Little by little light crawled up his hard chin.
“You don’t eat, you don’t have energy. And you’re originally feeble anyway.”
He took the ax from her hand. Eutostea bent her fingers and grabbed for the handle of the axe he took. She missed it. Instead, she took away the lamp he was holding. Dionysus’ eyes chilled.
Eutostea shook the lantern menacingly. The oil shook dangerously as if to reach the wick.
“…The whole temple would catch fire at this rate.”
If she can’t break it, she can burn it. Why didn’t she think of that before?
Eutostea was ready to throw the lanterns into the vineyards. But she looked up at Dionysus before acting. She saw what he looked like. She hoped he would take up the white flag and break his will before she did anything reckless.
Dionysus glanced at the lantern she was holding and saw her face brightened by the light. It was a sly look that held no impatience or urgency. Give it a try. He looked on the sidelines as if watching fighters duel from the stands.
“Do as you please. I’ll be watching like this. Eutostea. It’s going to be a spectacular fireworks display. I’m looking forward to it.”
“…”
“I can’t believe you’re finishing up the lingering feelings I couldn’t cut off. I’m a little happy.”
Eutostea gulped.
“Ignite the fire. Come on.” Dionysus incited her with a sweet voice. “You’re going to burn this place down. The little embers you’re holding. If they grow huge by burning trees, that would be a spectacular sight. That sounds like fun, Eutostea. Come on. Don’t hesitate.”
Eutostea closed her eyes tightly. It was her who raised the white flag. Warm tears streamed over her cheeks. She cherished the lamp that she had raised threateningly.
She made it with her own hands. She can’t burn this place on her own when her hands and heart had worked diligently to restore it with utmost sincerity. It was a threat that could not be carried through in the first place.
A subdued light flickered as the teardrops she had shed fell on the lantern.
***
Eutostea lay by herself on a small bed in the inner chamber. Looking at her figure sleeping while crying sadly, Dionysus covered her body with a blanket and came out.
His long fingers wrapped around the golden cup.
The wine that moistened his throat was sweet. It was bitter. Dionysus shook like a drunkard. His steps staggered. He couldn’t walk straight and he was as disorderly as a grind. He looked at the fire in the altar bowl that Eutostea had made. He dipped his hand in. The hot blaze caressed his hand. He doesn’t get hurt. Blessed with eternity, his body is so strong that he doesn’t get burned.
With the idea of dishonoring at Hestia, Dionysus struggled through the flames roughly. He clenched a handful of blazing firewood. He put a fireball in my grasp.
He doesn’t stagger anymore and trudged to his designated destination. It’s the western forest. His feet kicked the dead tree’s nests. He made a path so that he could step on it. The grapevine moved like a creature at his hand gesture. Long out of human reach, the dense forest was cut in half. Dionysus hummed a song and walked on a soft dirt road.
“Hither convene! Whomsoever of thee to despair upon sending thy beloved.”
At the end of the road was an object rising like a mound. It was a glass casket. The fingertips of Dionysus quivered as it touched the dewy transparent surface. The lifeless body lay upright. Ariadne was as vivid as if she could open her eyes and breathe out at any moment.
“Withered the beloved’s body shalt be,”
Dionysus pushed the glass casket’s lid. With a thud, it fell backward and crashed. His fingers touched Ariadne’s face. The spores that came into contact with it were blown away.
“Fair skin…”
His lyrics were interrupted from time to time.
Eutostea brought a good-measured axe previously used by Dionysus and Apollo from the underground storage where miscellaneous tools were stored. They are not wood logs, they are vines. Why doesn’t she just cut them down? Eutostea stood in front of the most formidable-looking wall and swung the axe with all her might. The surface of the vine, as if it were ironclad, pushed forward as if spitting out the axe’s blade. She’s been starving for two days. Her empty stomach rumbled. Eutostea axed a couple more times by sheer stubbornness and mental strength. She didn’t know what she was after. The axe was heavy, so she concentrated on swinging it. Depressingly enough, the wooden barrier in front of her seemed to be flawless. After five hits, Eutostea fell. She flung her ax and lay down on the floor. She was fed up with this. She sat down on her knees with a cough after another.
She raised her hand and touched the part where the axe blade was supposed to have struck. It was as smooth as new. It seemed to say that whatever she did was useless. Tears streamed out of her eyes. Eutostea twisted her face in anguish and picked up the axe slowly.
“It can’t even be pierced by Apollo’s arrow.”
Eutostea jerked back and Dionysus stood in the dark. He was carrying a lamp. His chest was as bright as holding the scarlet sphere close to it. Little by little light crawled up his hard chin.
“You don’t eat, you don’t have energy. And you’re originally feeble anyway.”
He took the ax from her hand. Eutostea bent her fingers and grabbed for the handle of the axe he took. She missed it. Instead, she took away the lamp he was holding. Dionysus’ eyes chilled.
Eutostea shook the lantern menacingly. The oil shook dangerously as if to reach the wick.
“…The whole temple would catch fire at this rate.”
If she can’t break it, she can burn it. Why didn’t she think of that before?
Eutostea was ready to throw the lanterns into the vineyards. But she looked up at Dionysus before acting. She saw what he looked like. She hoped he would take up the white flag and break his will before she did anything reckless.
Dionysus glanced at the lantern she was holding and saw her face brightened by the light. It was a sly look that held no impatience or urgency. Give it a try. He looked on the sidelines as if watching fighters duel from the stands.
“Do as you please. I’ll be watching like this. Eutostea. It’s going to be a spectacular fireworks display. I’m looking forward to it.”
“…”
“I can’t believe you’re finishing up the lingering feelings I couldn’t cut off. I’m a little happy.”
Eutostea gulped.
“Ignite the fire. Come on.” Dionysus incited her with a sweet voice. “You’re going to burn this place down. The little embers you’re holding. If they grow huge by burning trees, that would be a spectacular sight. That sounds like fun, Eutostea. Come on. Don’t hesitate.”
Eutostea closed her eyes tightly. It was her who raised the white flag. Warm tears streamed over her cheeks. She cherished the lamp that she had raised threateningly.
She made it with her own hands. She can’t burn this place on her own when her hands and heart had worked diligently to restore it with utmost sincerity. It was a threat that could not be carried through in the first place.
A subdued light flickered as the teardrops she had shed fell on the lantern.
***
Eutostea lay by herself on a small bed in the inner chamber. Looking at her figure sleeping while crying sadly, Dionysus covered her body with a blanket and came out.
His long fingers wrapped around the golden cup.
The wine that moistened his throat was sweet. It was bitter. Dionysus shook like a drunkard. His steps staggered. He couldn’t walk straight and he was as disorderly as a grind. He looked at the fire in the altar bowl that Eutostea had made. He dipped his hand in. The hot blaze caressed his hand. He doesn’t get hurt. Blessed with eternity, his body is so strong that he doesn’t get burned.
With the idea of dishonoring at Hestia, Dionysus struggled through the flames roughly. He clenched a handful of blazing firewood. He put a fireball in my grasp.
He doesn’t stagger anymore and trudged to his designated destination. It’s the western forest. His feet kicked the dead tree’s nests. He made a path so that he could step on it. The grapevine moved like a creature at his hand gesture. Long out of human reach, the dense forest was cut in half. Dionysus hummed a song and walked on a soft dirt road.
“Hither convene! Whomsoever of thee to despair upon sending thy beloved.”
At the end of the road was an object rising like a mound. It was a glass casket. The fingertips of Dionysus quivered as it touched the dewy transparent surface. The lifeless body lay upright. Ariadne was as vivid as if she could open her eyes and breathe out at any moment.
“Withered the beloved’s body shalt be,”
Dionysus pushed the glass casket’s lid. With a thud, it fell backward and crashed. His fingers touched Ariadne’s face. The spores that came into contact with it were blown away.
“Fair skin…”
His lyrics were interrupted from time to time.
