Dionysus' Routine, or lack there of, included traveling from village to village, enjoying the offerings and festivities that the mortals would extend when his presence graced them. Now, as he has settled into his godhood, Dionysus has found himself bored.

Another glass of whine rolls down his throat, its tangy flavor familiar and buzzing. Music from lyres and flutes fill the clearing as the maenads dance in ecstasy, wine staining their lips and chins. Dionysus claps his hands together and chuckles, enjoying the drunken rituals of his followers from his velvet throne.

As pleasant as it is, his eyes feeling droopy and his smile lazy, it isn't as exciting anymore.

Two maenads are immediately at his side, their frenzied movement drawing him in to dance and forget his troubles. He indulges in the madness, his arms gracefully swaying and tracing over his own chest as a rich chuckle leaves his throat. His followers swarmed around him, cheering and chanting.

But, just as the wine had, the dancing lost its allure.

"I'll be back, don't have too much fun without me!" Dionysus announces, charmingly slurring his words as he pulls away from the crowd.

As he looks back at the bacchanal, Dionysus revels in the indulgence of his followers. They were all enjoying themselves and the merry-making, why was he unable to? He is the god of merry-making!

With a sigh, Dionysus adjusts the wreath of grapes that had gotten skewed upon his head. The man roams about the forest aimlessly, stewing in thought.

A rustle in the foliage perks him up. He's immediately peering around, curious, despite his afflicted coordination. Could it be a nymph? Perhaps a satyr or centaur? He would accept pretty much any company at the moment.

Purple eyes eventually settle upon the approaching figure, and boy are they a sight for his sore eyes.

"Trying to find the party?" His charismatic greeting is plundered by a drunken attempt to lean against the tree; However, he refuses to lose his confidence. "Pleased to inform you that I am the party."