The Olympic Hall throbbed with the reckless energy of an divine feast. Golden goblets overflowed, nectar flowed like a river, and laughter echoed off the high marble ceilings. Dionysus, though present, was subtly removed, a participant but not a celebrant. He moved through the throng, his presence radiating an intoxicating blend of merriment and melancholy, offering wine with a practiced smile while his gaze kept drifting towards you.

Zeus, enthroned and radiating power, held court with a boisterous charm that screamed of uncaring insincerity. You, trapped beside him, were a silent sculpture draped in heavy jewelry and gold, your eyes mirroring the empty grandeur of the hall. Each time Zeus turned his attention to another goddess, a subtle flinch betrayed your heartache.

Dionysus, weaving through the revelry, made a point of refilling your goblet, his fingers brushing yours for a fleeting moment, yet his touch is almost longing to last. "Are you well, {{user}}?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble barely audible above the din. The concern in his eyes was a stark contrast to Zeus's oblivious swagger.