vineleaves | Open: it's time now to sing out though the story never ends

Grantaire has decided on an experiment. Namely to wander the mansion for a bit with no particular aim in mind and see if he can end up finding something interesting.

As he happens by the room, he realizes that that experiment paid off beyond his wildest dreams and he will clearly need to replicate it sometime.

But he doesn't want to interrupt just yet, so instead, he crosses his arms, leans on the doorframe, and admires.

Dionysus doesn't notice for a while, but eventually near the end of the song, he does happen to open his eyes and catch Grantaire's reflection in the mirror. He smiles and immediately goes over to greet him with a kiss. "Were you standing there for a long time?"

"Long enough to enjoy it, certainly."

He laughs. "Oh good, I would hate for you to have been here so long you didn't enjoy it."

"Oh, cher, I don't think that length of time exists."

"Good to know." He gives him another kiss.

"You should teach me that dance."

"What, this style of dance in general, or the exact steps I was doing? Because if it's the latter I don't really remember what I did, so we might be out of luck there."

"No, no, just in general. It looked interesting."

"Okay!" He grins. "You'll have to change though."

"Oh, is that the traditional ensemble?"

"Hard to belly dance if your belly is covered up." He tickles Grantaire's tummy for... emphasis, or something.

"That is a perfectly fair point." He promptly starts in on rectifying that, pulling off his waistcoat and then going for his shirt.

Now it's Dionysus's turn to admire.

He tosses them casually to the floor. "Now, I'm not sure if my trousers are appropriate for the occasion, but unless you have a spare set of those, they'll probably have to do."

"Not on me, but fortunately we live in a magic, generous home." He presses a kiss to Grantaire's cheek. "Be right back."

Dionysus goes exactly one door down the hallway, finds a pair of pants similar to the ones he's wearing himself, and returns. "Here you go," he says as he hands them to Grantaire.

"That's convenient!" He slips out of his shoes, socks, and trousers and slips the new gauzy pants on.

...Yep, leaving to get the pants was a great idea. "Perfect!"

Grantaire looks himself over in the mirrored wall. "This is certainly diaphanous."

"I, for one, think it's a great look for you, and I weep that winter is nearly here and so there won't be much opportunity to get you to wear this again."

He laughs. "Oh, I'm sure we could find some way to keep me warm."

“Maybe if we think really hard we could figure something out.”

"We'll have to put our heads together about it. But for now, you have things to teach me."

"Right! Yes," he places his hands at either side of Grantaire's hips and leads him so they're a bit more centered in the room. "Okay, I'm going to show you how to do this-" and he demonstrates a move where his hips seem to shimmy up and down all on their own, the rest of his body seeming not to move at all while this is going on. "So -- ah, bend your knees."

"How much should I bend them?" Still, he promptly gives them a bit of a bend in case he happens to luck into the right spot.

"A good bit -- little more than that. You need to be fairly low to the ground for this."

He promptly squats.

Dionysus laughs. "Okay, not that close to the ground. Like --" he demonstrates. "And sort of tuck your butt under your hips a bit."

He straightens a bit until his knees are bent to the correct angle before trying to work out how tucking his butt under his hips works exactly.

Dionysus, always wanting to be as helpful as possible, places one hand on Grantaire's butt and the other on his thigh, and gently nudges until Grantaire's hips sort of roll into the correct position. "There. So, imagine you've got a line from your hips straight up to your ribcage. Straighten your left knee -- try not to let your ribcage move though -- straighten your knee and as you do that it should push that hip up, like it's going to join with your ribs. Then bend that knee again to lower the hip back down."

He nods, at least being comfortable enough, between his more active hobbies, with the basics of movement to follow the instructions fairly readily. He promptly does so, straightening and bending the knee in question.

"Now the other side," he says, placing his hands on Grantaire's shoulders to help keep the upper part of his body stationary while all the hip motions are going on. "And you just alternate."

He promptly does so, starting slow to be sure he gets into a rhythm before picking up speed. "It's easier than it looks."

"It is. That's part of why the outfits are so important," he says, walking around from behind Grantaire while simultaneously doing the hip movements as well¹. "Makes everything look better."

1. He's showing off. It's a lot harder to do it while also walking, obviously.

"You forget that you can't possibly look better, though."

He doubts that, but, "I was talking about the dance moves looking better, silly. Want to try a belly roll?" He demonstrates, his soft stomach undulating from top to bottom in rapid succession.

"Of course I do."

“Okay, so it’s basically just — just, sort of, tightening and releasing muscles, but independent of the other muscles nearby? That’s a terrible explanation. Um.” He pauses, then places a hand on the upper part of Grantaire’s belly. “Okay, tighten, then release just right here.” This is a very hands-on dance lesson.

Hands-on dance lessons really are the best kind of dance lessons. As tempting as it is to get distracted by the touch, Grantaire manages to focus on tightening the muscles in question.

"Alright, now," he lowers his hand a bit to just below Grantaire's belly button, "Do the same, but down here, instead."

"I think you might need to monitor this for a while, just to make sure I've gotten it right," he says as he works on the next spot.

"Oh, I should?" he says, and kisses Grantaire's cheek. "Well, I do want to make sure I'm giving an effective lesson."

"It's very important that I have the form correct."

"How studious of you," he kisses Grantaire's cheek again. "I do think you're ready to put the two parts together though."

"Alternate, I'm supposing? Doing them together wouldn't be very interesting."

"Yeah. So tighten up here," his hand moves back up, "then down here," his hand moves back down, "then relax," back up, "and relax here," back down. "And just sort of do that over and over as fast as you can."

As tempting as it might be to just lean into Dionysus's hand, instead he concentrates on flexing and relaxing in the right order. There's not much quite yet in the way of speed or smoothness, but he's getting the pattern down.

Dionysus is not quite as strong-willed in this moment, and starts leaving little kisses along Grantaire's exposed shoulders and neck.

That's just a cue to lean into Dionysus, then. Obviously it's time for a lesson break.

Dionysus presses up against him, leaving a few more kisses before he rests his head on Grantaire's shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist. "Y'know, I think it's our anniversary."

Grantaire blinks. "Already?" He slips his own arms around Dionysus. "Happy anniversary, in that case."

"I mean, if we're going by my first day here, and not some other arbitrary date."

"I don't see why it wouldn't be your first day here. So again, happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary," he says, and gives Grantaire a very deep kiss.

He returns the kiss, of course, and as it finishes, he grins. "And then we can have another one when it comes around on the mansion calendar."

"Ooh, that's a good idea. Twice the opportunity to celebrate."

"Precisely! Of course, we could celebrate every day, but then special occasions become an infinitesimal amount less special."

"Well, speaking of, what should we do to celebrate?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Wine?"

"Well, obviously. That goes without saying," The only thing stopping him from making some glasses right now is that he doesn't want to move his arms from around Grantaire. "What else?"

"I am really not sure. Even moving doesn't seem like the most appealing prospect at the moment."

"No, it doesn't. Maybe we can have a nice dinner later though." Not that he can take Étienne out to a restaurant or anything, but they'll deal. "Ooh, I actually have a new outfit I can wear."

"Aside from the new outfit you're already wearing?"

He laughs. "The other new outfit would be terrible to belly dance in, I'll admit."

"I bet you'd pull it off."

“I’m glad you have such confidence in me,” he says before giving another deep kiss.

"Of course I do," he eventually responds.

“But actually it would be useless for belly dancing,” he laughs.

"I don't believe you," he says airily.

"Well, we'll see if your opinion changes after you see the outfit."

"I suppose we will."

"First we should figure out what we're actually going to do for dinner though."

"Yes, that's... Oh! I have an idea!"

"I'm listening."

"Tacos. Like you showed me the day I was a kid."

He grins, and gives Grantaire a big kiss! "Sweetheart, that's perfect! I mean, tacos are always a good idea in general, but this is perfect! Ooh, and maybe we can go down to the beach after!" Will it be really cold at the beach at night? Yes. Is Dionysus thinking about that fact right now? Absolutely not.

"That sounds absolutely perfect."

"Oooh, sweetheart, I'm so excited about it!"

"Good!" He laughs and gives Dionysus a kiss.

"What are we going to do until dinnertime though?" There is exactly as much suggestion in his voice on that line as you would expect, coming from him.

"What an absolute conundrum!"

“Well, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

"Oh, I hope so. It would truly be a tragedy if we just stood around in translucent trousers."

“I would hate to ask you to do something so awful.”

"So compassionate. I'm sure we'll find something else..."

“Oh, I’m sure,” he says before leaning in for another kiss.

He returns the kiss enthusiastically, unable to keep a smile from his face while doing so.

There's a split second where Dionysus debates not doing what he's about to do, because of the wood floors and his body that aged into its late 40s, but then he decides he doesn't care about any of that, and whatever knee pain he has later he can just deal with. So, having made up his mind, he starts leaving a trail of kisses down Grantaire's cheek, neck, chest, tummy, and then finally he has to pull previously discussed translucent trousers down out of the way.

Grantaire, of course, thoroughly enjoys those kisses, as well as what follows, to the point that it's a miracle that he manages to stay upright. "You're amazing," he says eventually as he helps Dionysus straighten again.

Just as he predicted, the floor was not kind to him, and his knees both pop loudly as he stands back up. He regrets nothing though, and wraps his arms around Étienne and kisses him again before he says, "D'you want to stay in here, or head back home for now?"

"Back home for now, I think."

"I'm very glad you went with that option," he says with a laugh as he helps get Grantaire's pants situated correctly again.

"Me too. Our rooms are slightly more comfortable."

"That's an understatement," he laughs.

"Although I'll admit the mirror wall is a nice feature."

"We can always bring a bunch of cushions and blankets in here some time if you want. Maybe turn the overhead lights off and just light some candles..."

"Oh. Oh, yes, that sounds nice."

"Now, or another day?"

"Another day, I think. Spread out the novelty."

"Oh, that's a good point. Can't use up all the novelty in one day."

"It's like a sauce."

"A highly mirrored sauce."

"A sauce you can reflect on."

Dionysus bursts into laughter. "Come on, let's go home."

"Absolutely."

Dionysus scoops up Grantaire's discarded outfit from earlier and hands it to him before going to the wall and unplugging his cd player and picking it up. "Alright," he says, and heads for the door.

Grantaire slings his clothes over his shoulders and follows.

Once they're back in their rooms, he safely deposits the cd player on the table and then goes to immediately flop on the bed. "So what would you like for an anniversary present? I should probably have asked this a few days ago, but I didn't think about it, I'm sorry."

Grantaire tosses his clothes on the floor and flops next to Dionysus. "Why on earth would I need a present beyond the gift of having been with you a year?"

"Because I want to get you a present."

"I'd say wine, but you give me wine every day anyway. The next thing that comes to mind is kind of silly and I'm not sure you'd want to do it anyway..."

"What is it?"

"Oh, just... maybe you could make a self-portrait for me."

"What?" he laughs. "I -- I can, but it won't be good--"

"That doesn't matter. I'll still smile every time I see it."

"Okay," he says, a little unsure. Not that he's unwilling to make one, he just doesn't expect it to be... any good at all, really. "What should I paint myself doing in this self-portrait?"

"Surprise me. Just... something that makes you happy. What do you want for our anniversary?"

"Oh -- ah, I hadn't given it any thought, actually..."

"Think on it a little, then, and let me know when you decide."

"Of course!" and then without thinking about it one bit whatsoever, he says, "Maybe something I can wear, so I can keep it with me?"

He thinks that over. "All right. I'll see what I can come up with."

"Thank you, love," he says as he rolls over, now basically half-on top of Grantaire, and kisses him.

"Of course you're welcome. Happy anniversary."

He trails a finger down Grantaire's cheek. "You make me so happy, Étienne."

"I'm glad to hear it. You make me happy too, you know."

"I'm so glad I was brought here, and got to meet you."

"So am I. It's almost unfair how fortunate I am."

"And here I was thinking I'm the fortunate one."

"I would normally dispute that, but I think today we can both be fortunate."

"Good," he says, and kisses the tip of Étienne's nose. "Y'know, I'm really excited for tacos later."

"So am I. I remember liking them."

"I hope you didn't get into too much trouble when you got back home after that."

He shrugs. "I was used to being in trouble anyway."

"You say that like it makes it any better."

"I'm just saying that if it wasn't that, it probably would have been something else, so the delightful taco interlude really didn't end up adding any trouble."

"Yeah, I still don't like that."

"How about this, then. I wouldn't be the same man I am now without having been a troublemaker then."

It's not however much of a troublemaker Grantaire may or may not have been that Dionysus dislikes about this, but he doesn't really want to argue right now. "I definitely don't want you to be someone else."

"There we are, then. Resolved."

He lays his head on Grantaire's chest, snuggling a bit into the scars that brought him here.

Grantaire settles in comfortably at that, lifting his hand to card his fingers lightly through Dionysus's hair.

He lets out a pleased sort of hum and closes his eyes.

"I'm glad I'm not someone else too, you know. Especially at times like this."

"This would be a very bad time for the mansion spirits to decide to pull shenanigans again and swap you out with an alternate universe version of yourself again."

"Oh, what do you think it would be this time? If the last time was a future me, maybe the next time would be one from the past. Perhaps I'd be a gallant chevalier."

"Maybe you'd be from as long ago as that mortal version of me was," he says, and then immediately remembers how Grantaire looked when the two of them swapped outfits that day and has to lean up and kiss him about it.

"Perhaps!" He kisses him back, of course, even if he doesn't know exactly what brought it on. "Oh! Perhaps I'd be a satyr!"

"Oh, that would -- that would be fun --"

He laughs. "Apparently so."

He's having a moment, give him some time for his brain to restart itself.

Grantaire promptly gives Dionysus a little nuzzle. "That has certainly distracted you."

"You bet it has. Sorry, what were we talking about before?" His mind is 99.9% Sat-aire now. Sétienne?

If one were to ask his opinion, he would say that Sat-aire is by far the better pun, although he would render it, of course, as Sat-R. "I have no idea, in fairness."

"You would make an incredibly cute satyr."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you think I would make an incredibly cute anything."

"Yes, but that's beside the point."

"If I turned into a slug, you would think I was the cutest slug you've ever seen."

"It's not my fault if you would be a very cute slug."

"Would I be a cute moth?"

"Of course. All moths are cute anyway, so that one's a freebie. Are you about to ask me about every animal and bug there is?"

"I could. Or I could branch out. Would I be a cute... mud puddle?"

Dionysus laughs. "I'm sure you'd be the cutest mud puddle to ever puddle up."

"What if I were... obscene graffiti?"

"Oh well I do love a good bit of obscene graffiti."

"True. That was a terrible example. What if I became... ah... a candle stump?"

"I'm sure you'd be a wonderfully scented, very beautiful and decorative candle stump."

"All right, all right, I surrender. I'm sure that if I were sewer water you would find me the best of all the sewer water too."

"I have to say, I think you'd smell better as the candle--"

"I think that's normally true too."

"Well of course. You smell better than a candle."

"That depends on the candle, I think. You definitely have some candles that smell much better than I could ever aspire to."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"Unless I'm fresh out of the bath, I suppose."

"Fortunately we've got the largest bathtub, so being fresh out of the bath isn't a difficulty."

"That's true. I'm fresh out of the bath reasonably frequently."

Well now he's just thinking about Grantaire in the bath, so he has to give him a kiss. It's the law.

He kisses back. It's very nice to be able to earn kisses so easily.

Dionysus deepens the kiss, his fingers twisting through Grantaire's hair as he slips into Grantaire's mind.

Quite some time later Dionysus is in the other room getting ready. He decided it has to be a surprise and all be revealed at once, rather than piece by piece if Grantaire watched him getting dressed. So he carried the (large) box from Kade into the Art Studio Formerly Known As Grantaire's Room and set about getting ready.

First things first: hair and makeup. His hair is much longer than it was this time a year ago, but still not quite long enough to do many of the more extravagant hairstyles of the era, so he opts instead to just go with something more simple. He pulls most of his hair into a bun, leaving a good amount of curls to either side of his face to frame it, and then adorns it with some vines. He doesn't do a ton of makeup, but he figures if he's getting all dolled up anyway, he should at least do a bit of something. Powder, mascara, a basic eye, oh maybe a tiiiiny bit of contour too, because why not. He does manage to stop himself before he gets too carried away. He wants the focus to be on Kade's wonderful work, not his makeup skills.

Well, actually, he wants the focus to be on him, but also on Kade's wonderful work. It evens out somewhere in there.

And there's seemingly no end to the amount of work poor Kade had to do for this one outfit, either. Dionysus got the mansion to cough up the stockings and shoes he'd need, but Kade still had to make: a chemise, corded stays (along with, of course, the busk Étienne decorated for him) that are fan-laced so he can more easily get in them by himself, a corded petticoat, a pintucked petticoat, a small ruffled skirt support, and perhaps most crucially, big fluffy sleeve supports.

That is all before even getting to the gown itself. The lovely white silk they picked out together that reflects light green when it moves through the light, a thick green velvet sash around the waistline, gorgeous embroidery of vine leaves on the skirt, it's all absolutely perfect. Dionysus throws on a nice pair of earrings and a necklace, checks himself over in the mirror to make sure everything is laying how he wants, and then heads back into the bedroom.

"What do you think?" he asks, doing a little twirl.

Grantaire, who had just tossed on a reasonably standard outfit while Dionysus was off getting ready and then flopped onto a beanbag chair to read a book and wait, is immediately climbing to his feet. ".... Oh."

"See, I told you it would be awful for belly dancing."

"Oh, you're... oh. I... oh."

Dionysus really isn't sure what reaction he was expecting, but making Grantaire speechless was definitely not it. He commissioned the outfit just wanting to be sappy and have something that matched what Étienne usually wears. This is a much better outcome than he could have hoped for.

"I take it you like it then?"

"Like it? You're stunning. I need to... I can't..." He bustles himself over to the closet.

He laughs a bit, even if he's blushing from the compliment. "Can't what?"

"I'm clearly underdressed, I need to fix that."

"Sweetheart, you can wear whatever you want!"

"Obviously. And whatever I want is better than what I'm wearing now." He starts pulling some clothes out from the closet.

"Alright then." He goes to sit on the now-vacant beanbag chair and wait. Of course, sitting on the beanbag has the side effect of sort of smushing the skirts and what bosom he was able to achieve up, which when combined with the sleeves results in a sort of orb-shaped god.

Grantaire doesn't have quite as many compunctions about changing in front of Dionysus, not having planned this quite as intricately, so he does so, but when he's finished, he's wearing the embroidered waistcoat that Dionysus gave him for his birthday, and a dress coat in a complimentary green along with some cream colored trousers, and he's managed to fish out a top hat. In addition, he's found a deep purple cravat, the color of a dark ripe grape.

"Well?"

Dionysus rolls up out of the beanbag, smooths his dress back down, and goes over to … better inspect Grantaire’s outfit. He makes a show of adjusting Grantaire’s various lapels and fidgeting with the cravat, mostly because if he goes another second without touching him he might die. Which, for an immortal, is saying something.

“The waistcoat I got you!” He remarks with a smile before rising up on his toes to kiss him. “You look very nice, love. Hot.”

"It was the least I could do to match you."

He wraps his arms around Grantaire’s waist. “Matching! That’s what I was aiming for when I asked Kade to make this for me. I wanted an outfit that would match your usual wardrobe.” He pauses, then adds, “I probably should have aimed for something a little more casual, but I saw this silk and fell in love with it, and here we are.”

"It's perfect. Not that you're not perfect in anything, but..."

“I have to say, I didn’t realize you’d be quite so excited about this.”

"I don't think I would have realized it if you'd brought it up in advance, to be honest."

"I'm glad I kept it a secret then!"

"Somehow I think I'd be just as surprised even if you hadn't."

"Well, regardless, the good news is that now that I have all of the petticoats and stays and stuff I could probably easily get more outfits like this. Oh! Thank you for the busk, by the way."

"Oh, it was nothing. Your iconography is uniquely suited for busk-decorating."

"I suppose I do have nice iconography."

"It's the vines. Very slender. I would have had a bit more difficulty fitting on a leopard, though."

"Ooh, maybe next I should get this dress but in leopard print..." He's unfortunately only half-joking.

"Perhaps as an accent print."

"Maybe! Dark brown, like the same color as the spots, and then maybe the belt in leopard print--"

"Cutting edge of fashion!"

"Something like that," he laughs. "Anyway, I'm hungry, let's go find tacos."

"An excellent idea." He offers his arm.

Dionysus takes it, of course, as they head down the hallways to the closest kitchen. "Ah, damn, I was hoping we'd walk in and everything would be waiting for us on the table already," he laughs.

He laughs also. "Clearly we aren't actually the favorites."

"Terrible time for them to break the news to us."

"At least this way we get to make them ourselves."

"That's true!"

"A bright spot, at least."

"Well, let's go see what we've got to work with," he says as he (somewhat reluctantly) unwraps himself from Grantaire's arm and heads over to start looking in the pantry.

Grantaire follows, peering over Dionysus's shoulder.

"Ooh, chips," he says, pulling out a bag of tortilla chips and setting it to the side. "Maybe we can make guacamole too."

"You're the expert!"

"Wait, have you had guacamole before?"

"I don't think so."

"It's good! Goes well with tacos too. Goes well with most things, actually." He takes a pack of corn tortillas out of the pantry and sets them next to the bag of chips.

"Well then clearly we need to have guacamole."

"Great! Can you see if you can find some avocados, onion, tomato, ah -- cilantro... maybe a pepper if you want it spicy, uh... garlic? I think there's garlic in it sometimes. Oh! Limes. We need limes."

"I'll see what I can do." He starts looking for ingredients. "... What are avocados?"

"Oh, uh, they're --" he holds up his hands to roughly an avocado size "shaped kind of like eggs or pears, dark green, and bumpy." He pulls a variety of seasonings out of the pantry as well before he goes to look in the fridge to see what the meat options are looking like.

After doing a bit more digging, Grantaire does in fact find some avocados before starting on the rest of the list.

Dionysus digs around in the fridge for a minute or so, then asks, "Do you want chicken or pork tacos?"

"Chicken, I think. Unless you prefer pork."

"Oh no, chicken's fine with me."

"Chicken it is!"

He pulls a styrofoam container of chicken breasts out, sets it on the counter, and gets a cutting board out of the cabinet. "When you were a kid I was lucky and found the meat already cooked, looks like the mansion's not being as kind today. The spirits must clearly have found new favorites."

"Let's see. Who's arrived since then? Ophelia and Dinadan most recently..."

"Oh, that would make sense. They enjoyed them being here on visitor day so much they just kept them around." Or brought back, in Dinadan's case, but close enough. "Must be them."

"No other explanation, clearly."

Dionysus grabs a knife and starts cutting the chicken into smaller pieces so it'll cook faster. "I mean, if you'd asked me a year ago I'd have told you Ophelia was my favorite character from Hamlet, so I can't say I blame them. Granted, that feels... a bit awkward to say, now that they're real people."

"Who was your favorite from the play I'm in?"

"You, obviously."

"Really? Even before you met me?"

"I mean, you're undoubtedly the best character, so why wouldn't you be?"

"I was also apparently an extraordinarily minor one, but all right. Aside from me, who was your favorite?"

“You’re not that minor of a character. There’s characters more minor than you. As for my second favorite- hmm.” He’s bad at picking favorites of things in the first place, and now he has to pick a second favorite? After a moment he says, “Maybe… well, you don’t know her. Marius’ girlfriend’s mother. She has a song that makes everyone cry.”

"Certainly a play wide in scope!"

"Don't tell Enjolras he wasn't my second favorite character from your story," Dionysus says with a laugh as he transfers the cut chicken into a pan to cook, then goes to the sink to wash his hands¹.

1. I just realized I never had him wash his hands before he started cooking, whoops, that's my bad, let's pretend he did that too. He's also washing them now, since he touched chicken. Why are half of my footnotes about health and safety??????

"Your secret is safe with me. Of course, I highly doubt it will ever actually come up, which makes the secret even safer, if you think about it."

"Ah, I knew I could trust you," he says. "Now, the question is, am I your favorite character in my play?"

"You were ever under the impression that you possibly couldn't have been?"

"I don't know, maybe you're secretly a huge fan of Heracles."

"You're undoubtedly my favorite character in every story in which you appear."

"Aww, sweetheart," now done with washing his hands, he goes over and kisses Grantaire.

He kisses back. "That includes our story, you know."

He absolutely melts, wrapping his arms around Grantaire's neck and looking at him with an expression of pure, sappy love. "That's -- that's incredibly sweet -- you're my favorite too--" and he has to kiss him again.

Edited 2025-03-06 04:23 (UTC)

Grantaire smiles softly and holds him close. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"Well, it's true," he says, tucking a stray curl behind Grantaire's ear.

"I don't get to be someone's favorite very often." Or... ever.

"Better get used to it."

"I don't think that will be much of a hardship."

"Not even if I tell you repeatedly, every day, how amazing I think you are, and how wonderful you are, and how beautiful you are, and how much you mean to me?"

He turns more than a little bit red at that. "Ah. Well."

Dionysus takes this moment to kiss Grantaire.

He has no objections to that, flushed as he still is, and kisses back.

He presses up as close as his many layers of skirts will allow, the silk of his gown making faint rustling noises as it moves.

Edited 2025-03-07 03:21 (UTC)

Grantaire pulls back just a bit and smiles. "You're lovely."

"I love you."

"I love you too. More than even I can muster words for."

He kisses Grantaire again, trying to pour as much love and caring into it as he can--

And then he suddenly jerks back with a gasp. "Chicken's burning--" and rushes back to the stove to try and salvage what he can.

"Ah, merde." He follows behind to help if at all possible.

Dionysus turns the stove off and quickly moves the pan off of the burner. “I forgot to put oil in,” he says, staring at the gross, burned pieces of chicken. In his defense, he got distracted.

"... Pork is fine."

That causes Dionysus to laugh and he goes to open the fridge. “Oh!” He laughs harder as he pulls out a container. “I don’t think they trust me to try again. They cooked it already for us.”

They are on their own to get the guac put together though, this mansion spirit isn’t that helpful.

"How fortunate for us, then!"

It will need to be heated up, but he can do that later. He sets the container on the counter for now. "Alright, let's make some guacamole."

"Let's! Direct me!"

"Alright -- ah, well, I'm assuming you've never cut open an avocado before, since you didn't know what they look like, so--" he fetches them a couple of knives and a bowl, then picks up one of the avocados. "So stick the knife in -- don't cut yourself, by the way, that's important -- there's a big pit in the middle, so just --" he demonstrates cutting the avocado in half, then twists it to pull the two halves apart, revealing aforementioned big pit.

"That is an enormous seed!"

"You can use your knife to get it out." He quickly taps the pit with his knife, and when he lifts the knife up the pit is stuck to it and pulls free from the rest of the avocado.

"Oh la la, that looks like a marvelous way to cut yourself." Still, though, he grabs another avocado and starts to attempt to replicate the feat.

"No, well, I already told you, don't cut yourself. Do this very carefully."

"I will endeavor not to, I assure you."

"Good. Anyway, so then you can sort of--" He runs the knife around one half of the avocado, to separate the part you eat from the part you don't, then plops it down in the bowl.

Grantaire contemplates that, and then just grabs a spoon and scoops the flesh out into the bowl.

"Oh yeah, that's probably safer," he says. "If you want to take care of the rest of the avocados¹ I'll start cutting the onion and tomatoes up. Ah, once they're in the bowl just mash 'em up."

1. How many avocados? How much guac are they making? Great questions. Probably too much guac.

He nods and starts working on cutting and scooping the indeterminate amount of avocados.

Dionysus, meanwhile, starts chopping up the other stuff. "This is going to be really awkward if we do all this work and then you don't even like guacamole."

"I'm sure that if that's the case, someone will still enjoy it."

"That's true! I'm sure someone'll come along and find it eventually."

"I am sure it will find a proper destination even if it is not with us."

Dionysus kisses Grantaire's cheek and finishes up chopping all the things that need chopped. "We'll mix this in after that's all smushed," he explains.

"I do wonder how many people over the years have made mention of what avocados are shaped like that aren't eggs or pears."

"I'll give you five guesses as to what the word that 'avocado' was derived from means."

He laughs. "Ah! So everyone."

"More or less!"

"Marvelous." He starts squashing the avocado innards with the back of his spoon.

Once Grantaire has everything properly smushed, Dionysus dumps the cut up onion, tomato, and cilantro in, along with some salt, pepper, and lime juice. "Now it just needs to be stirred all up." Meanwhile, he puts the mansion-spirit-cooked meat in the microwave to start heating up.

"Fortunately, I have a spoon that seems to be purpose built for the task." He promptly stirs.

Dionysus steals Grantaire's hat and puts it on, his little bun fitting perfectly up in it.

He laughs. "Truly enhances the look."

"Now I'm tall." The microwave beeps and he takes the container out.

"Positively towering. Like the plucked chicken."

"They'll have to build an observation deck on me somewhere."

"It will lead to very scenic views."

"Yes, because I'm very tall."

"A towering colossus!"

"So statuesque," he laughs, and starts scooping some of the meat out onto tortillas.

Edited 2025-03-17 03:35 (UTC)

"Even more so than some actual statues."

"Some of my statues are pretty small," he says, holding his hand about six inches or so above the countertop.

"Oh, that's not a bad size overall."

"Not for certain kinds of statues, I suppose," he laughs and switches to putting the toppings on the tacos.

"You would know. You invented them."

"I suppose I am the expert then."

"More than anyone else is, surely."

"Oh, undoubtedly!"

"Praise to Dionysus Chthonios, inventor extraordinaire!"

This causes him to burst out laughing so hard he has to set the spoon he's been scooping ingredients with down and hold on to the countertop.

This makes Grantaire laugh as well, of course. "I was sure you'd like it, but I didn't know you'd like it that much."

"I liked it a lot," he says, still grinning.

"Oh good! Although I do regret that it delayed the food."

"Okay, okay, just a minute," he says, and finishes assembling the tacos.

"It looks delicious!"

"Hopefully they taste as good as they look. If they're bad it's clearly all fault of the meat that we didn't cook." He picks up the plates with their tacos and heads over to the table. "Will you bring over the chips and the guacamole?"

Edited 2025-03-21 03:37 (UTC)

He promptly scoops up the chips and guac and spirits them over to the table.

Dionysus sets the plates down, then quickly makes them some wine. "Figured you'd appreciate this more than a juice box, like you had the first time you had tacos."

He laughs, taking a seat. "Thank you. I will point out, though, that I could have had wine then too if you'd watered it down a bit."

"Well yes, but they don't call me Dionysus Acratophorus for nothing," he says, completely ignoring the fact that he has, actually, watered down wine on many, many occasions before.

"Where would schoolkids be without watery wine, though?"

"Most places nowadays don't legally let kids drink alcohol anymore, actually," he says, casually, as he grabs a chip and scoops up some guac.

"Really?"

He nods. "I think in France you're supposed to be 18 nowadays. ...Maybe it's 16, actually? Something around there." He takes a bit of the chip he grabbed before. "Oh, this is good!"

"How strange!" He dips a chip himself and has a bite. "Oh, that is good."

"Oh, I'm glad you like it!"

"Were you worried that I wouldn't?"

"You never know! Sometimes people don't like things!"

"That is true, but I don't think I've ever disliked a single thing you've created."

"I didn't create this! You did!"

"Quite the contrary. I merely assisted you."

"You did all the smushing and the mixing, which is roughly 90% of what goes into making guacamole, therefore, you made it." He eats another chip.

"I didn't even know what guacamole was," he points out. "Yours was the mind directing my actions, therefore, you made it."

"I don't think that's how that works, dear."

"It's absolutely how that works."

"I am merely the cookbook in this scenario."

"I'm merely a utensil."

Dionysus makes a show of looking Grantaire up and down as best he can, given they're both sitting at a table, then says, "Nonsense, you're must more than just a utensil."

"And you're more than just a cookbook."

"You should try a taco and tell me how they are."

He promptly picks up a taco and takes a big bite. "Mm," he says once he swallows. "I made an excellent choice."

"Oh good," Dionysus says before picking up a taco of his own and taking a bite. It is good. That's good, considering a lot of it was hinging on the quality of Mystery Cooked Meat From The Fridge.

"Whoever first invented this dish is a genius."

"Shame it wasn't me, imagine if I had taco powers."

"... Could you make a grape taco?"

Dionysus laughs. "Depends on what you mean by grape taco. I can do this--" he makes a very large, tortilla-sized grape leaf with a little pile of sliced grapes on the inside for the 'filling'. "But I'm not sure that counts as a taco."

"I suppose that would depend on exactly how you defined a taco."

“Good point. I think tacos have less of a definition and more of a vibe. They make ice cream tacos, after all.” He pauses. “I’m not sure if this counts for either though.”

"I think it has a taco vibe."

"Your opinion on the subject is clearly the only one that matters, so yes, I can make grape tacos."

"Excellent. A long-awaited conclusion!"

Dionysus picks up one of the sliced grapes and reaches across the table to feed it to Grantaire.

He smiles happily as Dionysus feeds him what is certainly a wonderful grape.

"I can't get over how beautiful you are."

"Oh. Well. Thank you. You're sweet. You're always sweet."

"Oh, probably not always."

"Definitely always."

"There could be a time when I'm not sweet. Maybe when I'm asleep and not doing anything, for example."

"No, you're sweet even then."

"Oh, am I? What's sweet about it?" He has decided to forego deflecting compliments and swing fully in the opposite direction and just start fishing for them instead.

"What, might I ask, isn't sweet about you being peaceful and adorable?"

"I dunno, maybe I steal all the blankets," he says with a grin, then takes another bite of his taco.

"You would do it adorably."

He laughs. "What would adorably stealing blankets look like?"

He laughs. "All right, to put in terms I think you'd understand, imagine me stealing blankets."

"Aww!" he says immediately.

"Exactly!"

"Well, if I get cold because you stole all of the blankets I'll just use it as an excuse to snuggle up more."

"And there you have it."

"Not that I need much of an excuse to snuggle up with you."

"Of course not! An excuse is never necessary, but having one is nice regardless."

And to that he leans over the table to kiss Grantaire, cupping the side of his face in his hand.

He quite happily returns it. "I resolve to steal more blankets."

"I hope you do!"

"Consider it done, then."

"You're going to be cocooned up like a cute little bug."

"I hope I do not have wings when I emerge."

"I thought you enjoyed when you were able to fly?"

"Oh, I did! But I was in Temeraire's body at the time and therefore didn't have to worry about the intersection of wings and wardrobe."

"I'm sure Kade could figure out something for you."

"Probably. But I think I'd still prefer keeping my regular number of limbs."

"Understandable! I mean, sometimes obtaining wings doesn't work out well."

"True! Although hopefully mine wouldn't be held together with wax."

"And fortunately, my father-in-law isn't around, so you wouldn't need wax wings in the first place."

"Very convenient."

Of course, thinking about Daedalus and Minos naturally leads into thinking about Ariadne, which leads him into... other things. "I haven't -- I've not told you what Claudius and I have been working together on, have I?"

Not exactly the romantic anniversary dinner conversation he was anticipating, but he figures he's been putting this off for long enough, any longer would probably be... bad.

"No, you haven't. What's that?"

"So -- you remember how when Shen Yuan died they were able to grow a new body to put him in?"

He nods. "Stroke of luck, that."

"We've -- we've been working on growing more. So that nobody has to die. Ah-- I mean, if someone doesn't want to be put in one of the new bodies we wouldn't force them, we'll have to figure out what the most efficient and best way to go about keeping track of that is, but -- that's -- that's what we've been up to."

"Oh! That's... That's extraordinary."

He is very deliberately not asking Grantaire whether or not he would choose to be put into one of the new bodies. If the answer is 'no', he's not ready for that. "There's a lot of work to be done, of course, but -- it's probably one of the best things I've had the opportunity to help with. Oh, and -- there's more plus sides to the bodies being grown too!"

"What are those?"

"They can be used to make a vaccine to protect against Luo Binghe's powers," says Dionysus, who clearly has been incorrectly working under the assumption that Grantaire already knows about all of that this whole time.

"His what now?"

"His -- ...Oh." Realization dawns. "Sweetheart, I'm -- I'm sorry, I assumed you knew, this -- happened before I was even here, apparently, I --" He takes a deep breath, to gather himself, and stop rambling. "Claudius told me a while back¹ that apparently Luo Binghe is able to infect people with his blood, and in doing so, he can torture them by causing them to feel intense pain whenever he wants, wherever he is. Claudius knows this, because Luo Binghe did it to him." Dionysus reaches to take Grantaire's hand and squeezes it. "I'm so sorry for not saying anything sooner."

1. How long ago exactly is 'a while back', you might be asking? Shh, ignore that. Not important.

"Oh." He squeezes Dionysus's hand back. "That's... I see."

"He's alright now, he's safe. And I'm not going to let anyone else get hurt like that again."

"Good. Sounds like the kind of thing you wouldn't allow anyway."

"Of course not! I just -- I want everyone here to be happy, and feel safe. We're small enough in numbers, and everything is provided for us, so there shouldn't be any reason for someone to have to be worried, or live in fear of something. The fact that we've now had two people here who want to hurt others is -- is just so--" He's so angry about it he can't figure out which word he wants to put there.

"It's awful." He pulls Dionysus close and wraps his arms around him. "It's still so much less than there are in the worlds we came from. But it doesn't make it not awful."

Dionysus wraps his arms around Grantaire as well, holding him tight. "So I'm -- I'm really glad that we're going to be able to grow more plant bodies. In the meantime, please -- please keep yourself safe, if you come across him. Don't eat anything he gives you."

"Of course. We've barely spoken, really, so I don't know that it will be that much of an issue, but I'll keep it in mind anyway."

"I've barely spoken to him myself, and -- honestly, I haven't even seen him since I found all of this out." Not that he necessarily wants to start a fight -- historically speaking, that kind of thing tends not to turn out well for people he cares about, but -- at the same time, there's a whole swarm of things he really wants and needs to say to Luo Binghe, and it almost feels intentional at this point that he hasn't even stumbled across him, given they live in the same building.

"I'm sure you will eventually. For now, though, think of happier things."

"Yeah. Sorry, for -- for bringing all of this up while we're supposed to be having a date."

"Don't apologize. It's all right."

"Let's finish eating," he says, giving Grantaire a kiss on the cheek. "I'm excited for the beach."

"All right. Let's finish."

And so he grabs up another chip, scoops up some guac, and feeds it to Grantaire.

He grins as he happily eats the chip.

"You're so cute," he says, eyes lingering on Grantaire's cute little grin for a moment before he grabs a chip for himself.

"So are you, so I suppose it's only fair that I should be in your presence."

"I've no doubt that you're cute even when not in my presence." He takes a big bite of one of his tacos.

"You, monsieur, are extraordinarily biased." He takes a bite of his own.

"That's got nothing to do with it!"

Grantaire laughs. "If you say so," he says airily before taking another bite.

It's not long before they have finished eating and cleared away the plates, and Dionysus holds out his hand for Grantaire to take. "Shall we?"

He takes Dionysus's hand with a smile. "Of course we shall."

Dionysus laces their fingers together, then just fully clings to Grantaire's arm as they walk down the hallway.

"Just look at us in our finery. Resplendent."

"We should get dressed up for fancy dates more often! It's fun!"

"Absolutely. Next time, we wear close from whatever time period you choose."

"Oh, good. I already have something in mind." It's 100% the outfit his alternate, mortal self left behind.

And he will probably be utterly unsurprised to find that out. "Wonderful, then!"

"Ooh, and we should also show up at Laertes and Sagramore's house one day dressed like we're from one of their times, just to see the reaction. Not mention it, act like nothing's out of the ordinary, you know."

Grantaire lets out a delighted laugh. "Yes! That sounds perfect."

"We'll have to do it when they're least expecting it."

"Of course. Just out of the blue one day."

"I love it. Who's time period should we start with?"

"I don't know! Flip a coin!"

"Ooh, good idea!" He creates a gold coin with an S on one side and an L on the other, flicks it up into the air, catches it, and looks -- "Sagramore it is, then!"

"That should be entertaining."

"I think it'll be very flattering on you. Show off your nice legs."

"Oh, talk about flattering."

"Am I not allowed to talk about my beloved's nice legs now?"

"That is fair. Compliment to your heart's content."

"Are you giving me permission?"

He waves a hand. "Yes, yes, go ahead."

"Oh! Well then in that case, your legs are incredibly lovely, and have the most perfect amount of muscular toning I've ever seen. Really a top-notch shape to them, if I do say so, and I've seen a lot of legs before. Very strong, you know, good for walking around and whatever other activities you might choose to set them to use with."

Grantaire turns progressively pinker throughout this lengthy compliment. "I... thank you."

Dionysus thinks that Étienne is just so cute when he blushes like that. So cute, in fact, that Dionysus has to stop their walking momentarily so that he can give Étienne a kiss. "You're getting a lot better at accepting compliments."

He kisses Dionysus back, of course, and then shrugs at the comment. "I get a lot of practice here, I guess."

"That's good. Everyone should be complimenting you often."

"I think you may have a particular bias."

"Me? No. What would give you that idea?"

"Oh, just a feeling."

By now they have finally reached the front door and as soon as they are outside, Dionysus says, "Goodness gracious it is cold out--"

He hops a bit and blows on his hands. "Frigid." A slight pause. "Would you like my coat?"

"But then you'll be even colder," he points out. "And, more to the point, I don't think it'll really work with the sleeves on this gown. Maybe it's warmer on the beach?" It could also be colder, who knows. How does the weather even work here?

"Maybe so. We shall at least make the attempt. And if it proves unsuccessful, we can always retreat to the house for warmth and fortification."

He kisses Grantaire's cheek. "The beach isn't terribly far, I think we might be able to survive. Just barely."

"We'll be like those explorers of the polar regions, cutting our way through ice and snow until we can go no further."

"We deserve medals for our bravery and courage. If we survive this I will make us some."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Preferably we will even survive with all our extremities intact."

"No resorting to cannibalism or anything?"

"Oh, I'd say that depends on how far you're willing to stretch the definition of cannibalism."

"That would help keep us warm..."

"Exactly!"

"I could build us a little shelter if it ends up being tolerable. Or we could just wait until we're back inside. Or there's the one I already built in my garden--"

"We'll see how our whims direct us."

"Ooh yes, I am very interested in your whims."

He laughs. "I've noticed."

"And here I thought I was being so sneaky about it."

"Oh yes," he says with faux solemnity. "You are the sneakiest."

"Practically the god of it."

"God of sneaky chalance."

"That's me alright," he says with a laugh.

"The only reason not everyone knows it is because of the sneakiness."

"Some god of sneakiness I'd be if everyone knew I was the god of sneakiness."

"Can you think of a good song about being sneaky from a play?"

He immediately and loudly starts singing, "With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal! In silence dread, our cautious way we feel! No sound at all, we never speak a word. A fly's foot-fall would be distinctly heard!"

"Combining your domains so elegantly!"

"Not half as elegantly as the times you've combined some of my domains." He means the sex plays, naturally.

"Elegant is certainly the first word I think of there, yes."

"There's a wide variety of words one can use to describe it."

"Good ones, I'm sure."

"Oh, naturally. Only the best adjectives possible."

"So... Chalant?"

"That is, of course, the best adjective of them all."

"I imagine you might be somewhat biased, as it is your domain and all."

"Well, yes, but in my defense, my domains are the best."

"Of course they are. Everyone knows that."

"Can you imagine if I was in charge of something boring? Dionysus, god of ... I dunno. What's something boring?"

"Mathematics."

"Dionysus, god of Math. Terrible. Absolutely horrid."

"I am extraordinarily glad you avoided such a fate."

"Imagine if instead of singing songs from plays I walked around spouting out math problems. Terrible."

"What a nightmare."

"Maybe next time the spirits decide to swap us out for different versions of ourselves you'll get to meet Math Dionysus," he laughs.

"Dionysus, cher, don't tempt them like that!"

"So you'd be okay if I were a worm, but not someone who likes math?"

"Worms are better than math."

"As someone raised by trees I have to agree with that sentiment."

"They did an excellent job."

"You're biased, but I do think I had a much, much better childhood than I would've had with ...any alternative options."

"Even from what little I comparatively know... absolutely."

"Well, we know for a fact how I would've turned out if raised by my mother's family. He was here."

"Yes. I hope he ended up all right."

"I'm sure he's doing fine, dear. If for no reason other than I don't think my dear Cousin Suffering¹ was capable of succeeding at anything long term, even in an alternate universe."

1. Stealing this pun from The Bacchae, because if it ain't broke don't fix it. Pentheus -> Penthos (grief) -> Pathos (suffering).

"Oh, good. Maybe he even thinks about me every once in a while."

"I'm sure he thinks of little else, dear."

"That's probably a slight overstatement."

"I know how he reacted when you swapped clothes with him. And anyway, there was unfortunately a distinct lack of 19th century Frenchmen in Bronze Age Thebes for him to drool over in your absence."

"You can't know that for sure! Maybe someone made an extraordinarily wrong turn at the Rue Mouffetard."

"He probably didn't even realize how lost he was until he asked someone for directions, and the map they gave him was drawn on a vase instead of paper, the poor dear."

"And they had no idea what he was saying."

"Until he -- oh, wait, no, that Dionysus likely doesn't have my language powers, huh."

"Probably not, thinking on it."

"That's fine, if this wandering Frenchman is half as cute as you, I'm sure Dionysus'll just have to learn the language the old fashioned way. Awww, that would be cute! Struggling through learning each other's languages together."

"And there we are. They are undoubtedly happy to do it."

"Oooh, you know what would be fun? A triple date. Me and you, the you from 2024 and the version of me he called when he got back home with my phone number, and the mortal version of me with the version of you who somehow got teleported back in time."

He laughs. "Oh, is it me who traveled back in time?"

"Obviously."

"You had just said 19th-century Frenchmen. I didn't want to assume."

"Well who else could it be? It's obviously you."

"What a remarkable adventure that would be." His voice shades a bit wry. "Thankfully I'm inoculated against smallpox."

"You know, we probably should see about getting the rest of the vaccines for all of you. There's a lot of 'em nowadays. No clue how we'd go about doing that though. I'll see if Apollo knows next time I talk to him."

"I don't see why it would be necessary. We haven't really had diseases here."

"I dunno. Prevent them from happening in the future?" But now that he thinks about it, has anyone even had a cold? Bad sinuses? Anything like that?

Asmodean would know the answer to that question, having had a cold last Dark, but Grantaire is not Asmodean, so he has no idea, not that Dionysus even verbalized it. He shrugs. "Maybe. How many are there?"

"Um. Several? I dunno. There's a bunch they usually give to babies. Some of them you have to re-take later on. And then there's other ones. Scientists and ...doctors, I suppose, are always coming out with new ones. They made one for chickenpox a few years back." He shrugs. It's not like he's ever actually had one though.

"Huh! All of the poxes!"

"And more!"

"Joly would be delighted."

Dionysus reflexively tightens his hold of Grantaire. "Oh, I'm sure!"

"He'd get every single one of them."

"Good for him, honestly. The more people who get 'em the less chance that disease has of spreading around to people who haven't gotten one yet."

"Is there one for cholera?"

"I think so? It's hard to keep track, there's so many, especially since I can't exactly get them." Well, he could, there just wouldn't be any point to it, and that seems wasteful.

"True. Many diseases. Pestilence runs amok¹."

¹He says hi.

"Far too many, but at least they're coming up with better ways to deal with it all." They finally reach the beach¹ and Dionysus smiles. "You know, it does feel a little warmer here, though maybe I'm just warmer from the walk, who knows."

1. A mere 83 tags later...

"Perhaps it's a bit of both. Regardless, we get to promenade now."

"Ooh yes, we need to show each other off. Make all the crabs and fishies jealous."

"They will be positively consumed with envy."

"As opposed to being consumed with butter and lemon."

"I think they would certainly prefer the envy."

"We could find matching outfits for all of the little crabbies, so that they're not too envious."

"I wonder if Kade would be up to the task of outfitting crabs."

"I get the impression he'd be up for outfitting just about anyone, little crabbies included." A breeze blows by, and Dionysus leans into Grantaire that much more at it.

"Just imagine the trousers to fit all of those legs." He holds Dionysus close.

Edited 2025-05-09 02:25 (UTC)

"Tiny trousers for the legs, but giant sleeves for their arms."

If Grantaire had the cultural context, he would almost certainly be making a joke about skipping leg day. Sadly, he does not, so you'll just have to imagine it. "Which makes for an excellent balance, as there are several more legs than arms."

"D'you think tiny crab trousers would pull on from back to front, or from the bottom up to the sides?"

"It would have to be bottom up, no? Like regular trousers."

"I just realized -- little tiny crab suspenders!"

"That is adorable. Almost as adorable as you."

"I dunno, tiny crab suspenders are pretty adorable. I couldn't possibly be as cute as that." They might be talking about crabs right now but Dionysus is fiiiiiishing.

"True. You aren't as cute as that. You are ever so much cuter."

"Oh well that simply can't be true. You're going to have to go into detail to convince me."

"Head to toe or toe to head?"

"Head to toe."

"Your hair is adorable. I love the way it falls on your forehead."

"You like this length for it then?"

"I do like that length for it. In fairness, I do also like every other length you wear it at."

"It's a nice length for this sort of hairstyle right now, thankfully."

"It absolutely is."

"Anyway, sorry for distracting you, please continue," he says with a big, huge grin.

"You have an absolutely delightful forehead." He stretches to kiss said forehead.

Dionysus smiles, but doesn't say anything as to not interrupt again (yet, anyway).

"And your eyebrows." He traces them with a thumb. "They're very expressive."

Reflexively he closes his eyes as Grantaire does that. "Sometimes too expressive," he says with a laugh.

"Oh, not at all. The perfect amount of expressive."

"I'm glad you think so," he laughs. "It does make it hard to keep my thoughts to myself sometimes though."

"Luckily for the rest of us. Your thoughts are wonderful. I'd almost say divine."

"Well yes, but that's a technicality," he says, laughing again.

"And therefore true."

"I suppose I can't argue with that!"

"You can, if you like. I promise I really am very good at arguing even if I don't actually argue with you very often. If ever."

"I like listening to you talk too much to argue. It's more fun to let you just go without me interrupting."

"It really is astounding how sweet you are."

He laughs. "For letting you talk, for my personal benefit?"

"Precisely. Now, moving on to your adorable nose."

"It's adorable?" This is, of course, an invitation to go on.

"Absolutely adorable. Marvelously formed, proportionate to your face, I have no complaints."

"I suppose you do see it more regularly than I do, so I will simply have to take your word on it."

"And I just realized I skipped your eyes entirely, which is a travesty. I love your eyes. They're remarkable."

"Aww, thank you sweetheart. D'you like them better brown or purple?"

"I love both and refuse to choose."

"You're so sweeet to me," he says, leaning up for a kiss.

Of course he kisses back. "You deserve it."

"More sweetness," he says before kissing Grantaire again just as a particularly chilly gust of wind blows by.

He shivers a bit. "Could we possibly finish the nose-to-toes segment inside?"

Edited 2025-05-16 01:55 (UTC)

"Yes, please, it's way too cold out here."

"Perfect agreement." He starts back to the house, this promenade being a bit quicker than the one out.

Once they're back to the door of the Mansion, Dionysus jumps a couple of times, a bit of sand shaking out of his layers of skirts before he actually enters.

Grantaire follows behind, promptly wrapping his arms around Dionysus from the back once he's through the door.

Dionysus leans back into Grantaire, wrapping his arms around Grantaire's. "Much warmer in here."

He sways back and forth a bit. "Very true. Why did we go outside again?"

"Great question. An incredibly foolish thing for us to have done."

"That explains it, then, for I am an incredible fool!"

"I dunno about that," he says, closing his eyes and just enjoying Grantaire's cuddling. "You're incredibly smart."

"Thank you." He presses a kiss in Dionysus's hair. "But I think it's very possible to be both."

"I think you're smart and silly, not smart and foolish. 'Silly' has nicer and more purposeful connotations."

"I can certainly be silly, too, now that you mention it."

"The silliest!" This is said with a great deal of affection, and it's clearly a compliment.

Grantaire grins and shakes his head. "I love you too."

Dionysus turns around in Grantaire's arms so he can give him a kiss, removing his hat with one hand so that the other can play in his hair. "Love," he says once they part, "Let's go back to our rooms so we can warm up properly."

He smiles and gives Dionysus a squeeze. "That sounds perfect."

Hopefully he's not zoned out enough to notice some accompaniment to his dance music. Apollo slips in without announcing himself and settles up against a wall, playing some sort of harmonizing melody along with Dionysus' choice of song.

He knew Apollo was there even before he started playing, but the only acknowledgement he makes is to open his eyes for a split second and nod before he goes right back into it.

Apollo gives him a small smile and continues just what he was doing before.

That song ends, and he dances to the next song on the cd as well before he finally turns it off and goes to flop on the floor beside his brother.

He grins and stops playing, then. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Did you get bored and wish yourself up a dance studio?"

"Maybe? I just found it one day, but it's possible it exists because I thought of it at some point before that, I suppose."

"This place is so weird."

"Eh. It could be weirder."

"Yeah. Personally I would appreciate less toying with my emotions."

Dionysus, who undoubtedly has been informed of Hyacinthus' visit, nods. "Wish I'd realized he was here, it would have been nice to get to say hi. But I was -- ah, I was with Ariadne all day -- or well, for the most part, so I guess that's why I didn't see him." And that's totally the only reason he didn't run into Hyacinthus.

"I mean, I was with him mostly all day, too. Aside from the morning when I went to the beach."

“I’m sorry he couldn’t stick around.”

"Well, he's around. Sort of." You know. In the hyacinths he has growing in his room. "...Painted a mural, though, to get my mind off it."

"Ooh, a mural of what?"

“Home,” is all he says, with a brief smile. “Sparta, Delos, y’know.”

Dionysus very deliberately does not ask how effective painting Sparta of all places was in helping him not think about Hyacinthus, the prince of Sparta. "You'll have to show it to me."

“Could right now, if you want.”

"Oh yeah, let's go," he says, deciding this is significantly more important than continuing to dance.

“Okay.” He shrugs and gathers up his instrument, leading the way.

Dionysus leaves his cd player, he will come back for it later, and follows Apollo.

He duly leads the way to his rooms, that are cluttered with all kinds of instruments; and shoves a cello off to the side to better display the art. It is a general landscape of ancient Greece, though Delphi, Delos, and Sparta are definitely featured. It is not a masterpiece; Apollo is not the god of paintings, but it is very good. “Here,” he says sheepishly, gesturing to the mural.

Apollo might not be the god of paintings, but he is still incredibly good at it. "Oh, Phoeb, it's lovely!"

He smiles and gives his baby not-brother a friendly nudge. "I made sure to put your temple in there."

He looks and finds it. "Aww, back before the statues at the entrance broke!"

"Yeah." A beat. "I guess it's a good thing Percy never saw them when they weren't broken, huh? He'd never shut up about it."

“I’ll have to take your word for it, I only know him from the musical where he’s usually a 25 year old pretending to be a middle schooler.”

“He’s a good kid,” Apollo says fondly. “Closer to 25 than middle school now, honestly. Helped me out a lot at home.”

"What's he up to these days?" Obviously not these exact days, since Apollo wouldn't know anything since arriving at the mansion, but whatever, close enough.

"Oh, he's in college. Goes to New Rome University, which is nice because Annabeth goes there, too. She's also going to Berkeley."

...Of course there's something called 'New Rome University' in Apollo's universe. Of course. "What're they studying?" He's definitely expecting it to be something really dumb and made up.

"Annabeth is studying architecture, I think? I haven't heard what Percy is studying. Last time I ran into them they had just started there."

"Oh!" Architecture isn't made up. That's real. Good! Not something stupid like majoring in Murdering Minotaurs or something else along those lines. "Good for her."

“She’s a smart kid; I think she’ll do well with it.”

"I'm sure her mother's very proud of her," he says, without putting much thought into, you know, the source material being discussed or anything.

He raises his eyebrows. "Sure, I guess? 'Thena's not the most...motherly if you haven't noticed." Also, he hasn't spoken to her since before he got turned into Lester, so things are -- a little cool between him and most of the other gods.

"...Right. Forgot what universe we were talking about for a moment there."

"...Why, is she motherly in your universe?"

"To her kids, yeah. I mean, she's a stricter parent than I am, but, y'know, who isn't."

"I mean -- yeah, I guess. Poseidon seems pretty okay with it all, judging by Percy."

Susan watches from the doorway as he dances for a long few moments, transfixed, before clearing her throat to let him know that she's there.

He turns at that and smiles at her. "Susan! Hello dear!"

"Good day, Bacchus."

"How are you?" he asks, going over to the cd player to turn the music off for now.

"I'm just fine, thank you. What sort of dance was that?"

"Oh, ah, belly dancing." He points to his own belly, as if that's some kind of emphasis.

Susan's gaze follows the direction Bacchus is pointing. "Belly dancing," she murmurs, and forces her gaze back up to his face. "I've not heard of it before."

"Ah. Well it, ah -- well, the modern version of it is a combination of a few different things, I suppose, as tends to happen, but generally speaking it originated in Egypt. A few centuries ago." He pauses. "...Actually, I suppose it was a few millennia ago, come to think of it."

"So old!" Susan looks Bacchus up and down again. "Is the outfit typical of the dance?"

"I mean, there's variations, but in general, something that sits low around your hips. Ah, I guess usually women and whoever else wants to will wear, y'know, sparkly bras."

"Sparkly... bras?"

"Yeah, beaded or sequined usually. I mean, it doesn't have to be, but most people go that route for performances because it looks nice on a stage, I suppose."

"It is a tremendously attractive look," Susan allows, with another appreciative once-over.

"Aww, thank you dear."

"Would you show me how?"

“Of course! Right now, or were you on your way to somewhere?”

"I've got time now. Ought I find a particular outfit, or is what I have on all right?" What she has on is standard daily fare for her: a dark blue wrap dress with a skirt that falls just below her knees, stockings, and a sensible pair of ankle boots with low heels.

"You'll get a better feel for things if you change, but you don't have to if you don't want to. I would suggest at least taking your shoes off though."

"You said something that sits low on the hips and a beaded brassiere?"

"Yeah! Well, I mean, it doesn't need to be beaded for just a lesson, but if you want to wear a beaded one that's fine too. I'm not going to fault anyone for wanting to be sparkly," he laughs.

"Perhaps you might help me find something appropriate in the closet across the hall?"

"I would love to!"

She smiles at him. "I shall let you take point on envisioning the outfit, as I'm not certain what might truly be best, whilst I focus on my size."

"Very methodical! I like it."

"Come along, then," looping her arm through his and heading across the hall toward the closet, which she looks at sternly before jerking the door open.

When the door opens they'll find a couple of different outfits (Dionysus has trouble making up his mind sometimes, okay?). One is a red, heavily beaded outfit, and the other is a little more casual. "Ooh, options."

Susan can tell at a glance that the red would be tremendously eye-catching, but she isn't certain of the dip under the belt. She selects the other one. "My thanks," she says, and indulges in the whim of pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I shall change and meet you back in the dance room."

"Great! I'll see you there!" and he heads back to the dance room to wait.

It's a tremendously queer outfit. The skirts feel like nothing, especially after Susan removes her nylons. The hem of the shorts sewn into the skirts brushes against the marks left by her garters, but this, too, feels light and airy. The top is another matter entirely. Even though it's ostensibly in her size - and she does retrieve an option in the next size up to confirm - it fits rather poorly as constructed, both with and without a brassiere underneath it. Eventually Susan settles for jerking the closet door open again, now that she knows what the top ought to look like, until it yields a mostly-identical one with a lace-up front that she finds a little more accommodating; this she wears over her brassiere, then folds her dress and nylons and carries them all back across the hall, her shoes in her other hand.

What was the phrase Susan used? 'Tremendously attractive'? Well, yes. Dionysus tries not to let his eyes linger too much when she returns, he's supposed to be teaching her, for crying out loud, but he may or may not be only half successful in that. "Beautiful!" he says, cheerily. "Oh, you changed the top! I like it better that way."

His attention is obvious, and Susan basks in it. "It improves the fit," she explains, setting her items down by the door and then crossing over into the middle of the room. "Right. Where do we start?"

"Okay, so you want to stand with your knees bent," he demonstrates the proper amount.

Susan bends her knees to the appropriate degree!

"Great! Now, the main thing to remember is you're aiming for isolating your movements, so try to keep your ribcage still even if your hips are moving. Right? So -- we'll start off by straightening one of your knees," Dionysus is demonstrating as he talks, "Keep your heel on the floor, just straighten your knee out, and imagine there's a string pulling your hip up toward your ribs. Not going back, just going straight up. Then bend that knee back down and do the same on the other side."

"You make it look so simple!" says Susan, attempting to recreate the movement and finding it rather difficult to isolate her movements.

"Is it okay if I touch your shoulders?" he asks, because it's polite to ask this sort of thing¹.

1. Pay no attention to the Grantaire thread. That's different.

"You may touch me anywhere," says Susan firmly.

"Alright," he says with a smile, and places his hands on her shoulders to help steady her upper torso. "Keep trying. Go really slow if you need to."

"And I'm... lifting my hip?"

"Yep! Try to keep everything aligned straight up and down."

Susan frowns and concentrates, but it's much, much more difficult than Bacchus made it look, and her whole body moves. "Show me again?" she asks.

"Alright," he says and moves so she can see him better. He starts slowly lifting one side of his hips, then lowering it, then lifting the other. "When I straighten my knee, the extra length is going up," he mimes like there's strings attaching his hips to the ceiling, like a marionette or something.

"Might I touch your hips?" Susan wouldn't normally ask; she'd just do. But he'd asked her to touch her shoulders, so. "To get a better sense of what you're doing."

"Of course! You may touch me anywhere," he says, parroting her earlier words back at her with a grin.

"I'm inclined to take you up on that," says Susan, archly, but she's a task-oriented woman and only places her hands on his hips for the time being.

He repeats the motion. "Like this."

This, at least, finally makes sense to Susan. "I believe I've got it now," she says, and when she attempts the move again - though isolating her movements is still a little difficult - it's a significantly more credible effort.

"Ah, there you go! Good job dear! Now as you start to get more comfortable with how that feels, see if you can start to speed up. The shimmy effect comes from just doing that same motion, but really fast."

The problem, Susan realizes, is that she's been thinking of this as if it's a familiar form of courtly dances when really she ought to be thinking about the movements as if they're sexual in nature. She attempts the hip lift again, to greater effect.

"Lovely! Ooh, I knew you'd get it. See if you can keep pace with me," he says, and starts doing the motion slowly, gradually speeding up bit by bit.

Susan may be a task-oriented woman, but it still takes herself a moment to tear her eyes away from the sight of Bacchus's body moving the way it is and resume her own, slower attempts at the dance. She's getting the move mostly right, but she doesn't speed up at the same rate; she's focused on accuracy over speed.

"Keep your chest up, it'll help with the isolation," he says. "You're doing great though!"

"Up how? Do you mean vertical posture, or something a little more effortful?"

He thinks about it, trying to figure out exactly what he means. "Ah, vertical posture, I guess."

That's simple enough. Susan's posture is generally impeccable. She squares her shoulders and tries again.

"Wonderful, you're picking it up really fast! D'you want to keep practicing this move for now, or move on to a different one for the time being?"

"No, do let's keep going. I should like to learn as many moves as I can."

"Okay then!" Maybe something less hip-involved, to give a break from that for now. "What about belly rolls?" He demonstrates as he asks.

How is Susan to be expected to focus on her own dancing when Bacchus is such an appealing dancer! "I expect you shall have to talk me through that," she says, watching very closely indeed.

"Don't worry," he says with a laugh. "I was planning on it. First," he puts a hand at the upper part of his abdomen, "Try to tighten the muscles right here, but not the lower ones."

This, too, proves difficult. Susan tries, but succeeds only in tightening all of the muscles in her stomach instead.

He gently places a hand on her upper abdomen and presses lightly. "Juuust up here."

Susan glances down at the hand, and then up at Bacchus's face. Determinedly, she tries to isolate those muscles.

"See? You're getting the hang of it."¹

1. Notably, he says this whether or not she is actually showing any improvement.

Susan truly deserves a reward for remaining on-task. She tightens her upper-belly muscles again, to better effect this time.

After it seems like Susan has that part under control, Dionysus lowers his hand a bit. "Alright, now try to tighten and release just the lower part."

This, at least, is tremendously easy, and Susan does it several times before trying to alternate her upper and lower belly muscles.

"Wonderful! So, kind of like before, it's really just a matter of getting the hang of that, and working on building up speed without sacrificing the rhythm of it."

She gives Bacchus what can really only be described as a playful look. "Perhaps if you touched whichever muscles I ought to be contracting when I ought to contract them, it might be easier."

He catches that look and smiles. "That does sound like a good idea." He gently places his hand back near the top of her abdomen, then slowly lets it drift down, maybe going a liiiittle lower than is strictly necessary.

That playful look grows very warm indeed! To her credit, with Bacchus's touch, Susan is able to control her muscles more effectively, and she executes a credible belly roll.

"Ooh perfect, dear!" He says, giving her a round of applause for it. "Good job!"

The applause is nice, but not as nice as being touched. Still, Susan attempts another belly roll, which is successful, and then she tries the hip thing again - less successfully, but still better than her earliest attempts.

Edited 2025-04-05 05:04 (UTC)

He gives her a celebratory (???) kiss on the cheek!

Susan is torn. She wants to learn this dance so she can delight her lovers with it, but... she should also very much like to kiss Bacchus properly, even though that will, hopefully, lead to further distraction.

She settles for giving Bacchus a bright, hopeful smile, and attempting the sequence of moves once more.

"You can add arm movements in with it too, if you want," he says as he demonstrates slowly raising both of his arms up over his head then back down again, in a fluid motion, all the while doing more of the hip shimmying.

"Bacchus, you make it look so effortless!"

"Aww, thank you, dear. Years of practice, you know."

'Years' is a bit of an understatement.

"Hundreds of years, I imagine."

"Calling me out for being old, I see," he says, pretending to take offense.

"Bacchus," she says, playfully putting a hand on his chest, as if to soothe him... and leaving it there. "That's not what I meant at all."

"Oh, it wasn't?" He casually lifts one of his hands to cover Susan's. Casually. "That's good, I suppose. I am, after all, positively youthful compared to a lot of gods."

Susan's fingers flex under his and she draws a step closer, making direct eye contact. "I'm quite inclined to agree," she says. "Your vitality and experience seem, to me, rather evenly matched."

He leans in closer as well. Susan's a bit taller, but more or less a match for his height, so their faces are automatically pretty close to one another like this. "Well, I thank you for the compliment, dear."

Susan sways closer still. "In the interest of honesty," she says, setting her other hand carefully at his waist, "I should like to kiss you."

"I was hoping so," he says warmly before wrapping his other arm around her back to draw her even closer into a kiss.

He's so tremendously attractive, dressed like this and dancing in this manner, and such a lovely, attentive kisser. Susan does genuinely want to learn more of the dance, too, but he is awfully distracting, and she is awfully interested. She leans into the kiss, responding in a way that can really only be described as 'eager.'

He's pretty sure the dance lesson has concluded for now, or at the very least it has been significantly paused, so he deepens the kiss, one hand going up to her hair while the other stays on her lower back, fingernails lightly tracing designs right above the band of her costume pants.

This is ever so lovely. Susan presses closer, trailing her fingers through his hair, as well - but not so vigorously that she dislodges his bun. The chains of his belt are clinking together, a pleasant little counterpoint to the sound of their mouths.

He pulls back from the kiss enough to ask, "D'you want to go somewhere a little, ah, softer?" Like with a bed or a sofa, perhaps.

"I very much would," says Susan immediately. "Have you got a place in mind?"

"I do, actually. One of my favorite rooms!" It's the room with all of the giant plush cushions and sofas, where he had the post-Dark party last year.

"Then," stealing one more kiss, "lead the way, if you please."

Though it had been quite some time since Aleksander had devoted attention to his thoughts of conducting dance classes, it was still something he wanted to do. Feeling the dance to dance, even if it was only by himself, he went looking for the studio he'd found so many months ago. Upon hearing music, he cautiously peered inside and was delighted to see Dionysus had clearly had the same idea.

He watched him for a few moments, enthralled by his grace and form. When the song ended, he applauded enthusiastically.

Dionysus didn't even realize he was being watched, and laughs a bit, startled, but bows dramatically nonetheless before going over to give him a hug. "I didn't even know you were standing there, I'm sorry dear."

Aleksander returned the hug happily then kissed Dionysus on the cheek. "It is all right. It felt wrong to disturb you in the middle of your dance so I wanted to wait for the right moment."

"You could have joined me!"

"I've seen many dances but nothing quite like this one," Aleksander said a little sheepishly. "What is it called?"

"Belly dancing!" He gestures to his tummy as he does a belly roll.

"Belly dancing," Aleksander repeated, fascinated. "Would you mind teaching me?"

"Of course! You might want to change clothes first though."

"Oh? Something like what you are wearing? I take it the dance calls for that sort of thing."

"Generally speaking, yes."

"Then by all means, I should indeed change." He paused as the thought struck him that he might have some difficulties finding what he needed. "I don't suppose I could ask your help? I am not sure the Mansion likes me enough to give me the right clothes."

"Oh sure, dear! I think there's a spare bedroom across the hall, let's go," he says, heading out across the hall for what, for some strange reason, feels like the third or so time today? Weird.

Aleksander followed him, hoping that the Mansion would look more kindly on Dionysus. He was almost afraid to imagine what he would have found if he'd tried on his own - a gauzy almost see-through kefta? Something frilly with bows? The possibilities were horrifying and endless.

Unfortunately for Aleksander, Dionysus would love to see him in something frilly with bows. Fortunately, however, he's on a mission right now, and that mission is to get him some pants for belly dancing in. Rather than finding an exact replica of the pants he's wearing himself, Dionysus opens the closet door to find a pair of grey sweatpants, but decides that's perfectly fine and hands them over to Aleksander. "Here you are!"

"You are a marvel, Dima!" Aleksander praised as he accepted the pants. He had been expecting something along the lines of what Dionysus was wearing and these were a very pleasant surprise. He contemplated turning his back while he changed but decided there was no need for modesty. It wasn't as though this was the first time Dionysus had seen him thus.

He quickly changed out of his jeans and into the sweatpants with an expertise that came from the need to be ready to change and move at a moment's notice. "Shall we dance?"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask," he playfully replies, grinning as they head back over to the dance room.

"If I had known you were waiting, I would have asked much sooner," Aleksander responded just as playfully. "It is true I've been many things from general to villain to monster but I like to think that at heart, I am a dancer."

...Damn, he really is perfect for Apollo, isn't he? Dionysus does not say this thought out loud. Instead he laughs, and says, "I'll teach you whatever dances you want, as long as I know it myself. You'll have to return the favor sometime though."

"Of course," Aleksander said, delighted at the prospect of learning even more dances. "I mentioned to Claudius some time ago about starting a dance school to have something to do with my time but that idea fell by the wayside. If I take it up again, I would be honored if you would lend your expertise."

"Ooh that could be fun!"

Aleksander hesitated then continued. He was still not quite comfortable admitting to any vulnerability but he did feel safe with Dionysus. "Do you think so? I fear that not many people would be interested if it is me teaching. I know that should not matter and I would be happy to teach whoever wants to learn but I suppose I want it to be a success."

"Look, if people don't want to show up, they're the ones missing out. It'll only mean that the class is that much more exclusive for those of us who do show up. But I'm sure more people than you think would want to attend."

"Rationally I know that and I admit that I've been long accustomed to not caring what people think but that was in a different world. People here care about one another and I want to bring them something they might enjoy," Aleksander confessed. "It is the least I can do."

"Well, like I said, I'm sure plenty of people are going to sign up."

Aleksander was not nearly as confident as Dionysus that he would have a well-attended class but he appreciated his effort at bolstering his confidence. "But that is a problem for another time. I have a dance to learn now."

"Ah, right, of course. Were there any moves you saw me do earlier you're particularly interested in learning first?" For some reason he feels like he's gone over basics multiple times already today, but surely he hasn't, right? Probably the mansion being back on its bullshit again, honestly.

"The hip isolations," Aleksander answered promptly. "How do you manage to do that without moving every other part of your body?"

"It's a lot in the legs," he says. "And the posture. So, stand -- stand like this," he gets into the proper posture. "Knees bent, hips not too far back, and your chest up and open."

Aleksander nodded thoughtfully then copied Dionysus's position as best as he could. "Knees bent, hips not too far back and chest up, all right. What next?"

"Now, straighten up one of your knees, and that should push your hip on that side upward if you're keeping everything else aligned." He demonstrates this, too.

It took Aleksander a moment to get the knack of it, The movement felt awkward at first but after a few tries, his hips cooperated and he was able to reproduce Dionysus' movements passably well.

"Ah, there you go! Perfect, dear! Now, try the other side."

Edited 2025-04-13 19:50 (UTC)

Aleksander beamed then applied himself to moving his other hips. It still felt a little awkward but he was confident that was something that would improve with time and practice. "Like so?"

"That's it! So now the trick is putting it together, and alternating."

"But I stay in one place?"

"To start with, yes. After you get the hang of it we can work on how to do that while walking around."

Aleksander nodded in understanding then applied himself towards moving one hip then the other in a way that he hoped was somewhat graceful but feared was wooden and stiff. Practice was the only cure for that, he knew and he was not about to give up just because it wasn't coming to him easily.

"Ah, d'you mind if I put my hands on your hips?" he asks.

Aleksander shot Dionysus a flirtatious glance but his voice was calm and well-behaved as he answered, "By all means. I would welcome the help."

"Alright," he says as he sets his hands on Aleksander's hips, and starts gently directing the flow. "You don't need to completely lift and lower one side before moving to the next. So, let this one start rising as this one's lowering back down."

Dionysus's hands on his hips felt good and it took Aleksander a great deal of effort to stay focused on the lesson and not lean backwards. He could indulge himself later after the lesson was finished. "I see now. The movements should flow together."

"Exactly! Like a -- wait, d'you know what a see-saw is?"

"I do! There is a playground as the Little Palace though it can be a challenge getting the younger Squallers to refrain from "helping" people by calling gusts of air," Aleksander answered. "That helps, thank you."

He laughs. "I can see why that would be a problem, yes."

"It is good that they feel comfortable enough with their power but most of them do not have the control yet," Aleksander said fondly, thinking of the many spirited Grisha he'd known as children and watched them grow to be strong and confident. "We have Healers but no one wants to see someone fall off the seesaw and get hurt because they weren't being careful."

"It hurts to fall off of a seesaw under the best circumstances, not to mention if someone with wind powers is making it worse."

Aleksander could only nod. He had seen seesaws in his youth but only at a distance. He had never been allowed to play with other children on the rare times he and Baghra were stopping at a village. It hadn't been safe.

"Children will be children, whether they have powers or not," he said. "You can tell them a dozen times and yet someone will try it anyway."

Dionysus exhales a little huff of laughter. "Ain't that the truth..."

"Do you have children?" Aleksander asked curiously.

"I've had -- well, the number's up to 133, now that Mercutio said he wants to be my kid," he replies, sounding very proud in a dad-like-way.

"My mother had that many, I think," Aleksander said thoughtfully. "Though I don't really know. I remember some of her pregnancies and she even let me hold a few of my siblings but that was as far as it went. She wouldn't tell me anything about them or their fathers. She would never even tell me about my own."

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, frowning. "I'm sorry, that had to be hard." He politely is not going to mention how many siblings he has. Mostly because nobody, not even Zeus himself, knows the actual answer to that.

"I suppose she thought she was protecting me. One of the few things she told me about her life as a child was that her own mother was afraid of her and her father was distant at best and when he was not poring over research, preferred her younger sister. I suppose the Morovozas have never been good at relationships, familial or otherwise."

"You're good at relationships though," he points out. "You and Apollo are perfect for each other."

Open: it's time now to sing out though the story never ends

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