Open: All that you are is a face in the mirror

[vineleaves]

That was certainly a weird dream. If he hadn't experienced everyone else being ...weird alternate versions, he wouldn't think anything of it, but considering the fact that he had, he is now wondering if it happened to him, as well.

First order of business though is of course checking on Mercutio, to make sure he is back. Once that particular fear is gone, he decides breakfast is in order, then he should check up on the garden. Hopefully today will be normal and uneventful.



If anyone would like to speak with regular Dionysus now that he is no longer an AU, feel free! Or honestly if you just want to talk to him anyway, that's fine too.

Comments

[vineleaves]

Dionysus shrugs. "Dunno. But he wouldn't have been expecting me to -- actually I guess he would've first been freaked out by how old I look, but that Pentheus really wouldn't have been expecting me to make vines start growing all over the place."

[futaille]

"Still would have ended up better for him than some of the stories. Because you're sweet."

[vineleaves]

"I didn't kill him in real life. But, y'know, Euripides writes one play and that happens to be the one play about me that survives into the modern era..."

[futaille]

"What? No it isn't."

[vineleaves]

"I mean, there's bits and pieces of other ones, and if people would just let me write things down for them instead of needing to rely on archaeologists for 'scientific accuracy' or whatever--"

[futaille]

"No, no, there's another play about you. Aristophanes. The Frogs."

[vineleaves]

Dionysus can't do anything but stare at Grantaire. He's not even breathing, not that he needs to, of course, but the point remains.


After a long, long stretch of time, he finally says, "What."

[futaille]

"It's about you going to the underworld to try to bring Euripedes back from the dead. In the end, you go with Aeschylus, though."

[vineleaves]

"What."

He didn't -- that's not who --

"I'm a fucking modern adaptation?!"

[futaille]

"... Are you all right?"

[vineleaves]

"Étienne. My love. I need to know everything you know about this play."

[futaille]

"Huh. I'm going to guess from your reaction that I'm not just going to be able to go grab you a copy from the library."

[vineleaves]

"It's seriously named The Frogs? That's -- that's just rude." He says to the man from Les Misérables.

[futaille]

"Yes, while Les Misérables is ever so uplifting a title."

[vineleaves]

"Might as well be the same title," he says, a little grumpy, before grinning back at Grantaire. "Oh, love, you -- " and that's, of course, a big kiss for Grantaire. "Is it at least a good play?"

[futaille]

"It's an excellent play. Perfectly fitting of the god of drama. Very influential."

[vineleaves]

"UGHHHH, I want to read it!" He flops his head back on to Grantaire's shoulder. "I'm sure it's hilarious, right? You said Aristophanes?"

[futaille]

"Of course I did. Who else could write a comedy worthy of you?"

[vineleaves]

Grantaire gets another kiss. Dionysus is maybe going through a lot right now, but at least it seems mostly good. "I -- I can't believe this entire time you've had this just -- just sitting around in your head, and we didn't even know. I love you. You're a genius."

[futaille]

"Eh, I just read a lot. But show me your garden. I want to see what you've been up to."

[vineleaves]

Nope, too bad, he's still thinking about his play. "Étienne! Oh, Étienne, sweetheart, this means we know each other's plays! Isn't that precious?!"

[futaille]

"Well, I doubt I know yours as well as you probably know mine."

[vineleaves]

"That's fine, I don't know much at all about your book, so there's that. We'll just gloss over those parts and focus instead on how cute we are, knowing each other's stuff." He goes on his tip toes and kisses Grantaire again, one hand going through his hair.

[futaille]

He returns the kiss, of course, grateful for the excuse not to have to actually say anything in response.

[vineleaves]

“Let’s go sit under there,” he points to where he has made an arch of grapevines, almost like a gazebo but lower, to where you’d basically need to be sitting (or laying) to fit underneath, “and make out.”