Divine | ✓

-2-

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CHAPTER 2
BROKEN HEARTS
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DIONYSUS NEVER HAD CARED much for appearances. It was the reason he used to never visit Olympus at all, the place reeking of traditions and obligations. It was for her that he first visited the mountain regularly, in hopes of catching a glimpse of her.

Later, when he found love in her eyes and promises of more on her lips, he had lost himself in her as he usually did with wine. He had always been easily addicted and this time he was addicted to her.

He had always been told he felt his emotions too heavily. Everything he did was either all in or all out and when he loved someone, he lost himself easily.

For a while though, he thought he was going mad with love, but when she suddenly disappeared one evening, only to never return again, he found out he hadn't known true insanity. It was only when he lost her that he lost his mind too after all.

'How are you?' Hephaistos asked, leaning back in the broad, silver chairs.

Dionysus looked up from his glass of wine, the world around him slightly spinning. It took some effort to get a god drunk, but he always was willing to go the extra mile.

There was nothing more numbing than alcohol after all.

The room they were in was gigantic, the ceiling not even visible as it went on so high, the walls covered with intricate art painted by Apollo himself. Dionysus never would understand the patience the sun god had had, spending hours dedicated to the splashes of colors, but then again, his attention span was close to zero.

'The same,' Dionysus said, swishing the liquid in his golden cup in one hand as he leaned his head on the other,' attractive, irresponsible and a hundred percent a bad influence. How about you?'

The long table they were sitting at was meant for fifteen people, but right now it was only the two of them. When Dionysus had walked in the room, seeking some quiet after the parties he lost himself in day and night, he had been surprised to have found Hephaistos.

Normally the god of fire only resided in his workshop, covered in ash as he forged the greatest weapons known to men and gods alike. Although he wasn't that good with his words, he was a master at working with his hands. Dionysus had to admit he had some respect for that passion of his, although he would never say it out loud.

Hephaistos remained quiet, raising one eyebrow at him as he waited patiently for a real answer.

The fact that he expected Dionysus to give one made the god of wine feel the intense need to do the exact opposite.

'I can see why you and Hades get along,' he said,' you both aren't quite the talkers, are you?'

Hephaistos' his facial expression didn't change. He was used to the fickle mood swings of the Olympians, to the sharp retorts they sometimes gave. Living at Olympus wasn't an easy task to manage, especially if you towered over all of the gods.

Instead of the lean, tall frame most gods had, Hephaistos was gigantic, two metres easily, with muscles formed by years of hard work visible everywhere on his body. Calloused hands, broad shoulders and a crew cut only continued to make him stand out among the gods.