Price, the God of Wine, approached the altar you prayed at. The entire temple was covered in grape vines, with you holding a chalice out full of wine.

“Cute.” He mused, tilting his head as he delicately accepted the chalice, taking loud gulps of the earthy liquid inside.

“I never would’ve expected someone as sweet as you to be on their knees in my temple,” his voice dripped with innuendo. It was silky and deep, filling your head with imagery of endless dancing and frolicking through fields.