Back with the Tulips!
And here’s Dionysus, walking with a certain swagger and looking extremely pleased with himself.
It’s spring and he’s only recently back from his yearly death, so everywhere he steps vines spring up, curl around his feet, and keep growing once he’s stepped by - not a problem if one is outside, rather more problematic on a porch.
“Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooood moooorning!” he warbles, and hops up onto a porch rail to sit, the post turning into a living tree when he puts a hand on it to steady himself. There appears to be an entire rosebush in his hair, and ivy vines are attempting to climb down his arms and find somewhere to root. The whole effect is somewhat ridiculous, and he probably knows it, but he’s a bit drunk on the springtime and the glee of being alive again, and even in his most serious moments he’s never been a god much concerned with his dignity, so it’s unlikely he cares.
Typist: ^_^ And someone’s got a new typist and a new journal - the name was just too appropriate, I decided. Dionysus is, well, Dionysus, the Greek god of wine.
It’s spring and he’s only recently back from his yearly death, so everywhere he steps vines spring up, curl around his feet, and keep growing once he’s stepped by - not a problem if one is outside, rather more problematic on a porch.
“Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooood moooorning!” he warbles, and hops up onto a porch rail to sit, the post turning into a living tree when he puts a hand on it to steady himself. There appears to be an entire rosebush in his hair, and ivy vines are attempting to climb down his arms and find somewhere to root. The whole effect is somewhat ridiculous, and he probably knows it, but he’s a bit drunk on the springtime and the glee of being alive again, and even in his most serious moments he’s never been a god much concerned with his dignity, so it’s unlikely he cares.
Typist: ^_^ And someone’s got a new typist and a new journal - the name was just too appropriate, I decided. Dionysus is, well, Dionysus, the Greek god of wine.