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Bacchanal	By : Tohby Category: > A Midsummer Night's Dream Views: 1799 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction inspired by A Midsummer Night's Dream. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue
- 2-Chapter 1
- 1
- 2
Fauns with youthful Bacchus follow;
Ivy crowns that brow supernal
As the forehead of Apollo,
And possessing youth eternal.
Round about him, fair Bacchantes,
Bearing cymbals, flutes, and thyrses,
Wild from Naxian groves, or Zante's
Vineyards, sing delirious verses.
- Longfellow, “Drinking Song”
- Present -

Dionysius panted, parting the red lips. The thick lashes played in his smooth cheeks as his eyes danced under closed eyelids. The streaky brown bunches of vine molded his soft and flushed face. Always flushed.
He gasped again, this time revealing wet white teeth of wine. The chest, naked and white, went up and down slowly as he struggled to contain and eventually overthrow the already empty pitcher that he hold limply in his right hand. The bacchae laughed, delighted.
Apollo gritted his teeth
The god of orgies was lying languidly on a bed of delicate pads, his head resting on the slender neck of one of his servants, who prays or other cherished you the locks in disarray. He was wearing just a short purple chiton, that much had loosened the golden pins that held it on his shoulders, and now rested loosely around his waist, revealing centimeters and more centimeters of tender and light meat. The small umbilicus was full of red wine, which he tried to balance while a beautiful brunette maenad was evilly touching him at strategic points. Around him, a dozen other maenads, satyrs some and a handful of deities watched lewd joke.
Apollo was one of them.
A broken moan escaped from his mouth when the maenad slid her nails from inside of his left thigh to below the wrinkled and thin fabric of his solitary garment, blemishing the skin smooth with a trail of outrageously red lines. God threw his head back, further spreading more of the soft curls on the menade’s legs, but he bravely kept the trunk firm, and all red liquid inert. Females exclaimed expectantly, and then murmured approval or disappointment, always in whispers and giggles.
The brunette maenad pursed her lips in a sly expression, and then open them with a rakish smile. She went up the hand flat by flat to the god’s chest and, in a sudden movement, grabbed a pink nipple, squeezing it between her fingers.
Dionysus cried out, opened his green and dark eyes like the leaves in his hair, and by his surprise ... wiggled the hips.
A dark red line slowly slid down the white skin of the side of his abdomen, but before it could stain the cushions, the maenad leaned over her master and licked the spilled wine to its source, surrounding the circle length with the tongue, and then finally licking her own lips and smiling in satisfaction. The other exploded in a loud burst of applause, laughter and loud bonuses.
The young god raised his trunk, sitting on the cushions, opened a lazy smile, guiding his fingers to the maenad’s chin and bringing it to close.
- Oh ... my dear - he muttered. The sweet and warm voice like a warm wine full of spices - you know all my weaknesses ... - and kissed the still wet maenad’s mouth.
Apollo looked away.
- Uncomfortable, uncle ?
The sun of god raised his blue orbs, controlling an angry contemplation, resulted by the implication and the inappropriate words.
- No way - calmly replied - Why do you ask? - Countered, lifting a golden eyebrow.
- Oh, you looked pretty uncomfortable ... - caused the other, with a dangerously fun doubts shining in his dark eyes
- In this case, I think it was just the wrong impression - said, keeping a neutral face. When the other only slightly closed her eyes, he added - Anyway, this is not exactly my kind of ... celebration - added cautiously, with a minimum frown between the eyebrows, diverting attention to the cup still full in his hands .
- I didn’t think it was - he said promptly.
Apollo turned quickly to the other god before him, this time not as adept at hiding his irritation. But that one had the face to the salon. Apollo followed his gaze.
Dionysus now was in a high chair, covered in luxurious feline skins, all the pomp of a throne. A maidservant any had arrested only one of the chiton tips on his left shoulder with node, allowing the nipple vision still too flushed by the previous treatment. On his lap was a bronze bowl worked full of ripe grapes, which he played one by one, to the small crowd of maenads, who zigzagged in a complete chaos of movements, trying to catch the fruit with his mouth.
On one occasion, two maenads stumbled together and collapsed in a mess of euphoric members that ended up with one over the other, the dress tangle between them leaving their round buttocks completely naked.
Oh, gods ... Apollo thought, stricken. His company not only cackled scene with others, as applauded vigorously.
- Beautiful! - proclaimed - but the truth, uncle, is that there really is another kind of ...celebration - unexpectedly resumed imitating hesitant pause on the other, while he still watched, concentrate, the confusion hall.
Apollo clenched his blue orbs at the inability to disagree. After all, the god of parties should know how to give a ...
- Eros, why are we here? - He asked. The coldness of the voice contrasting with the gentle heat emanating from his skin.
- Well ... - Eros finally turned his attention to his company - you wanted to talk. Resume ties. Resume relationship ... As our beloved Hera say? - he ran his thin fingers the smooth chin, feigning doubt - Oh yes! "Working with forgiveness." - completed with a hidden sadistic smile on the curve of full lips.
Apollo did not react to provocation, though he felt a bitter taste in the mouth. In fact of his father’s wife make use of the expression with relative frequency, usually when he was about to kill bloodily some demigod, and the lord of the heavens obliged to contain.
Demigods. Bastard Sons. Like it.
- In fact - said sun of god - But why here ? - he insisted, turning the iris for the environment.
Eros gave tediously shoulders, opening a slow smile.
- Neutral Territory? - Suggested more than answered, raising his pale eyebrows.
- Neutral Territory ... - repeated Apollo, unbelief emerging voice – Did he took upon himself the task of my sister? - he quipped, referring to Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy in battle.
To his annoyance, Cupid just laughed. High and pleasurably. He had a smooth and beautiful laugh as the song of a bird
- Oh, my dear relative - began. The voice overflowing condescension - and that is Love, but an uphill battle all struggle and no one wins ... - left the rhetorical question hovering in the thick air around him, as he propped his forehead on his hands crossed, nailing the pitilessly dark eyes in laurel branches intermingled in gold and now short-haired Apollo - This is a lesson that I hoped you had already learned.
The bicolor Eros’ quiver rested peacefully on the edge of the chair his back. And the light metal arch was nearly dropped to his side, leaning thrush in the seat. Still, Apollo felt like he had been violently crossed by one of his arrows.
Again.
The mighty god of sun, music, poetry, medicine and oracles just stared blankly the rival.
Eros rarely presented in a manner not child, a winged child, a little cupid. But when he did appeared normally be in a mortal perspective, the tender beginning of adulthood, with no more than two decades of life. still very young compared to the usual appearance of most of the gods. And he had carved on his face all the overwhelmingly beautiful traits of the mother, Aphrodite: high cheekbones; the straight and small nose; arched eyebrows; the curve of the chin and stroke; full lips and temptingly pink, as if begging for a kiss.
This addition to the gently rolling locks a crystal clear bay which adorned his head and fell gracefully tousled around his shoulders, the winding angles and curves languid's slender neck, the marble uniformity of his white skin, the amazing length of almost white eyelashes and curved that molded a pair of huge dark eyes. No. Dark not. Black as ink. As an endless night. As an endless pit. Those black irises were the only visible legacy of the warlord, his father and brother of Apollo.
The sun god wanted to look at his nephew and loathe it. He wanted to note that beauty can destroy the sanity of any mortal and despise it. He wanted to curse his name and his existence. He wanted to humiliate him, exiling him, hurt him. He wanted even if it were possible to kill him, see the twin icor leaving his body after rended that perfection with a hundred arrows.
But he couldn’t do it. Not because he had no reason. He had, and remember them vividly every time the significance of those laurels weighed painfully on the head. And yes, because if he told all his time screaming, crying and abhorring the other with all its essence, would amount years and the deadliest years. Apollos was simply tired. Exhausted to the last groan. Squeezed to the last tear.
That is why; when Eros held those eyes, blue as a summer sky; he did not see them not a trace of relentless anger he expected to find. There was only a terrible fatigue and sadness that only a god of Olympus was able to feel and stay alive.
For Apollo's surprise, the sadistic sarcasm in Eros's face fell, and he let the air out slowly by full lips, with a serious and strangely bland expression.
- I didn’t meet you here with the intention of trampling - muttered. The low voice, slowly and gentler than the other thought possible from him - and not even ... make fun of their suffering - completed with a minimum wrinkle emerging between the eyebrows.
- The suffering you caused me? - Asked the Sun, yet without anger. Only with a hard inflection.
- The suffering you compelled me to cause - said Love, in the same tone.
The two looked at each other speechless, a cheerful music hall swelling the silence between them. Apollo turned his eyes first, shaking slightly with his head.
- This may be the heart of the matter, however, stopped importing the decades - said. Lost in the iris little prudish movements of maenads in the center of the room, without actually seeing them - It wasn’t to discuss our reasons I sought you.
- So, why did you?
- Because I'm tired of hating him - immediately hit back, making the other slightly popping black eyes - and I'm smart enough to not want you to hate me, either - said, raising a little chin - you’ll agree that the way expressing his dissatisfaction is quite efficient ... - he concluded by highlighting the euphemism in a slightly acidic gradation.
It was the time of god of love to feel a bad taste in the mouth, avoiding moving uncomfortably in his seat and deliver your thoughts.
- In fact ... - it was all he said.
Before it became another crowded pause by unspoken facts, Apollo felt soft.
Every god in its divine form causes certain effects on other beings with their mere presence. For mortals, the impact was so intense that instantly destroy his fragile health or even their bodies, invariably lethal. Fact that forced the gods to adopt lower forms when they intended to interact with men without killing them. With the other gods, that amounted to a series of specific sensations. The humans called here the "golden mean".
Apollo caused the next a sense of mild and pleasant heat, as if the skin touched by the light of a sunrise; plus slightly allay any physical pain and provide relaxation of smooth song, which was considerably enlivened by his deep, melodic voice. Eros generated a burning restlessness in the lower abdomen, which ruffled the hair and electrified the skin; made all the more intense visceral desires, weakened self-control and induced a most affected and affective behavior.
The longer it goes in the company of a particular god, more used and, therefore, less compromised by their presence the individual is. Or at least that's what the sun god assured himself when he was taken by that demented torpor.
His brain seemed to float in his head, and his members have become pleasurably light. His lips tingled, taken by an absurd thirst, it was not for water. A very different heat climbed his neck and face, from the inside. His tendons and muscles loosened, and the tension had not noticed he had on his shoulders, disappeared. His tongue seemed to melt in his mouth. Suddenly everything became slower. Denser. Sweeter. The lights flickered wildly, and the colors merged together. He felt an irresistible urge to go crazy, while his consciousness was slow and willingly put to sleep.
Delirious. The feeling was delirious ...
No. Apollo fought against that insane drunkenness, clenching his fists and pulling the air greedily into the lungs. That only served to hurt his palms and flood it with the heady scent of ripe fruit, dried leaves and - of course - red wine, strong and old.
Dionysus ...
- That the satyrs drag me back out of Olympus if when I awoke the Hipnos arms this morning I thought I would have a double as illustrious present in my humble feast!
The god of wine came behind the Eros’ chair, closely supporting hands in the high wood at end of the seat back. Love laughed in greeting. Apollo did not know if it was able to sustain indifferently green eyes of Dionysus, then jabbed his attention on Cupid, an act that almost made him give up diplomacy and slap him to realize its tranquility. He did not seem even affected by what almost deadened, and as much as Sun noticed was a subtle blush on their cheeks clear, which led him to thank mentally by his tanned skin.
- Well, Disi, don’t talk as if we were a strangers! - Eros protested, twisting his slender torso and tilting his head to stare at the host.
Several information came to Apollo simultaneously as the familiarity of the little space between the deities, the ease of that Eros kept eye contact, and a lot of moves and secondary sounds coming from the rest of the room. But the god ruled all for one, and only one information:
Dísi?
- And why not? You abandoned me! - Retorted Dionysus printing a capricious prosecution in its rich, sweet voice.
- What? - Exclaimed - How so? No. I do not ... I just ... I mean ...
With the embarrassed silence of Eros, Apollo risked sliding his eyes upward.
Dionysus had bare arms, with smooth muscles under the pale skin, crossed over the smooth and hairless chest. The young and beautiful face mounted on a morning of expression, with an eyebrow brown tilted at a challenging question and disconcertingly red lips tightened in a pout hurt. He still seems just a boy. Apollo thought. A beautiful boy ... added unwillingly.
- Okay ... - Eros sighed, defeated - I may have been busier than usual in the last months ...
- Two years! - Hissed the god of wine, behind the small, white teeth.
- For Cronos! It couldn’t have been so ...
- Twenty-two and a half months, if you prefer - snitched, looking to get even more stained than natural.
- Oh, Disi, don’t be like that! - Eros asked in a slightly guilty tone, which made Apollo unite the golden eyebrows - What are two mortal years to ...?
- Oh, is it so ?! - Hissed Dionysus. Slightly angry, he moved back Cupid chair, to stand beside him. Apollo that so far had only watched the discussion draft and mildly entertaining, tensed in the seat to feel even stronger the intoxicating aroma of god. Be quiet there, boy .. thought, angry - First, It’s not my fault if you're old and can’t count! - He played in Eros's face, tearing of Apollo a startled smile, though contained - And second, you know how many parties can I give in two years? The wine can ... ah, I ... drink? How many b-beauties ... I ... I can p ... oh ... By Zeus! - He exclaimed loudly, stopping suddenly.
Both Love and Sun stared at the dark god, completely confused. The Eros of curiosity almost materializing and gaining life in the air around you. But Bacchus did not look at them. Instead, he bent his head limply back, closing his eyes narrowed and his lips, let out a joyful and amazed gasp.
- Hmm ... - he moaned feebly - For fruity notes ... Apollo! - He cried, opening his eyes and burying the fiery sun god - You are ... hot ..
Apollo's jaw almost dropped in his lap
BUT... WHAT?..
A laughter echoed through the hall. Only it was not a giggle, it was a laugh from the worst kind. One of those outrageous and totally inappropriate that you try desperately to hold in the lungs, but it ignores you out scratching the throat, scraping teeth and clicking loudly on the lips.
Eros clenched eyelids, embarrassed. In his defense, he even tried to stifle the laughter with his hands, but only ended up almost choking and laughing more. Apollo did what any sensible one would be: glared him with the eyes.
- Oh, Zeus, my apologies – he panted, finally
- What was this? - Dionysus asked, tilting his head to him, as a confused kitty.
Oh, he thought THAT was strange? The Sun god asked ironically in his head. Eros already thought. I'll never understand how he manages to be cute and sexy at the same time ...
(Okay, maybe Apollo would have thought something like that too.)
- Oh ... - Cupid hesitated, before the lustfully innocent face of Dionysus and the absolute shame and increasingly visible Apollo - You may have left your exceptional guest ... slightly embarrassed.
The scarlet little mouth of the dark god formed an "O" of understanding and he turned to the sun, flooding it in that vast green
- I'm sorry - asked simply, without any timidity.
Apollo printed an educated and hard smile, well aware that no tan would hide the heat he felt on his cheeks now.
- Hey, Disi, where's my brother? - Interrupted Eros conveniently, as the sun god thanked the fortune, although he would ever admit - For some time I have not seen.
- His brother? Ah ... - Dionysus turned to the hall, searching all with eyes - This is an excellent question ... Silenus! - God cries out to what looked like a bunch of half-naked maenads, getting no answer - Heaven ... - muttered - Silenus. Hey, Sil. Sil? Silenus ... Ô SILENOOOOO! - He yelled impatiently.
A bald frightened head suddenly emerged from the tangle of slender arms and soft of maenads, as if drowning.
- What? At where? Who? - Stammered lord, visibly drunk.
- I Silenus - said god to his mentor and longtime companion - I want to know where is my son.
- Son? - He asked, blinking bleary eyes - What child?
- Oh, mine! - He replied in exasperation.
- Okay ... - muttered Silenus, rising unsteadily from that Bacchae bed, that complained handily - Just a minute, my love ... ah, again, what child?
- And how many children do I have? - Asked Dionysius, raising his hands. -
Ahhhhhh ... - he did as he counted on the fingers, but gave up in the process - Some? - He suggested, scratching his neck.
At that moment, Eros already laughed openly, and Apollo had some fun hidden in the corners of the mouth. Bacchus rolled her moss-green eyes.
- Man and immortal Son, Sil - indicated. In the other did not answer, he gave a weary sigh - Priapus, Silenus! My son and Aphrodites. Remember him? He kind of lives with us and is a little hard < not to notice! - He pointed out, his eyes widening.
- Oh yeah! - Exclaimed the old man - Priapus, of course! Yes I know!..
- And then ... - he insisted Dionysus in a grin patiently.
- And then what?
- WHERE IS HE? - Exasperated his teeth.
- Oh, that - he raised his eyebrows in understanding - I have no idea.
Dionysus covered his youthful face with hands, beaten.
- Silenus ... go have fun, yes? - He said muffled.
- Yes, sir - immediately hit back, and began to obey an undisguised pleasure.
The last thing they heard before the old jump forward back that agglomeration curves, was his voice saying "Hey, girls, who wants to play doctor?" And all the hands went up.
Apollo opened his mouth, not knowing whether to be shocked, honored or offended. He was distracted by a long sigh of Dionysus, who pulled himself a richly upholstered wooden chair, and sat between them, supporting the delicate elbows on the edge of the crowded table of fresh fruits that no one ate.
- No comments ... - warned Eros, which was still laughing.
- I love that old - was all that Love said with a broad smile in perfect mouth.
- Hm ... - Bacchus left a giggle escape through the nose - Yeah, me too ... - admitted, turning to stare at the mentor fondly. That is, the visible parts of it - just wanted to know why I have not a single subordinate competent! - He exclaimed.
- Ah ... maybe is it because they are all always drunk? - Suggested Eros, with obvious tone.
Dionysius pursed his lips .
- Good point.
- All my arguments are good – he showed off, vainly. Running his fingers through light hair.
- Now by any chance, are you replacing Athena in your abilities? - Questioned the god of wine, picking up the table a large, ripe strawberry and holding between his teeth.
Eros opened the surprised black eyes.
- I'm starting to think this is a conspiracy against my ego - complained.
- How so? - Asked Bacchus. The mouth still half full of strawberry.
- Apollo said the same earlier. It was not? - Silence - Ah ... Apollo. Apollo? APOLLO! - He insisted, snapping his fingers to his nose and darkish carved the sun god.
God of golden hair almost jumped up, awakening from the trance.
- What? - He asked a little too fast.
Today is hard!
Dionysus thought, amused, and still trying to get used to the delicious warmth that emanated from another god.
- Are you alright? - Eros asked suspiciously.
- Yes, of course - he said, regaining composure in an astonishing speed – I was distracted for a moment. I apologize. What part of the dialogue did I lost? - He asked quietly.
(Oh yes, because Apollo was quite distracted. But the God of Reason was not going to delete. So, we will do for him ...)
Below is the list of Sun God's thoughts, from the moment that Dionysus took possession of the chair.
The gentleman is so... God, that smell is so ... wait, he will not sit here, will he ?!
For the Tartarus’ souls He will! Oh, Zeus, what do I do ...?
Discipline. Concentration. Focus. Strength. Thigh ... NO! WHAT IS THAT?
It's not polite to face people's legs, Apollo! Even as they are beautiful and are exposed ... and scratched ...
Oh wow, that must have hurt considerably, but it did not seem to displease him in any way ...
No! Restrain yourself. Change the focus! Ah ... let's see ...
The nipple it is still flushed. But with this delicate skin, it would not be strange if formed a hematoma ...
Okay, that was definitely bad! Look at his face! At the face! ...
This is indeed a very pretty little mouth ... and so little red. Is it some tincture? See, it has almost the same color as the strawberry ...
I hear my name ... are they talking to me?
(Yes, dear, they are talking to you ...).
- Eros is playing the wise guy - updated Dionysus, totally oblivious to the careful study that the other did it. And he took the table another strawberry.
- Oh - he muttered Apollo, subtly watching the slow movement of the young god's lips - He does it with relative frequency ...
- Is it not?! - Exclaimed, excited by someone agree with him. The stained cheeks fruit filled.
Do not be so cute, kid. It is disconcerting ... muttered the Sun in his mind.
- Are you already finished? - He asked Cupid in a sulky tone, raising an eyebrow - So Priapus was gone?
- Oh, you should be chasing some nymph there - said Dionysus, dismissing the importance of this with a wave of small hand - Now - began licking the lips the end of the red fruit taste - undo this ugly face, I know you very well, you came here just to see me - teased with a smile lush and totally sincere in crimson mouth.
- Oh ... - Eros, no longer needed any encouragement to be malicious, returned immediately - you got me. - Said in a predatory smile
Apollo rose from his chair abruptly.
- I have to go - he said.
Dionysus blinked in surprise.
- Ah ... but ... so soon? - He asked, not trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.
- Yes - he said, hard. But when those huge green eyes held his, spewing disappointment, the god involuntarily softened the tone - There are only a few hours to sunrise. I must be able to fulfill my responsibilities - that's what he said.
It was true, but it wasn’t true. The really drove him out of that table was an extraordinary discomfort.
Eros was almost unanimously considered the most beautiful of all gods. With those perfect features and slightly androgynous, the soft, insinuating voice, and safe posture and invariably malicious. Dionysus was not that pompous beauty, but its searing honesty and his explicit innocence, added that young face of delicate features and her sweet and intoxicating voice, incited lust in anyone around him.
God of love and the god of wine. God of passion and the god of orgies. The devastating bay and the irresistible dark.
The two together had the smell of sex.
Not necessary. Absolutely unnecessary. It was what Apollo repeated to himself. He had come to a strange place the name of diplomacy to end a feud centuries and bring at least a little peace to his life. Not to see flirting gods!
- Okay ... - murmured Bacchus - You are right, however that grieves me, I do not intend to delay it on behalf of my whims - simply said, without thinking to doubt the motives of the other, making the sun god tighten the jaw in an unexpected and fleeting burst of guilt - in this case, I follow up ...
- No - Eros the cut, with the strangely austere voice as he rose from the table - I’ll do it - when the wine god stared at him blankly, he added quietly - All right, Disi. He's my guest, after all.
Dionysus let his eyes dance from one to the other, there seeing a handful of domestic issues and unspoken facts. It could be essentially naive, but not stupid. So just nodded gently with the head adorned with vineyards, rising slowly.
- Very well - said his friend before turning to Apollo - It was a pleasure to have you here, brother. I hope you won’t disappear.
For some unknown reason, the phrase meant that the sun god feel worse, or perhaps strangely guiltier.
- My pleasure - he answered politely. He didn’t know if he was lying.
When Apollo withdrew, Dionysus let out a wistful sigh, already late in the pleasant warmth and tranquility of feeling the other was carrying. That orderly and serene tranquility, so utterly alien to him.
The god of chaos rubbed his eyes angrily. It was not his nature to be slaughtered. He filled the first glass you saw with your favorite red dry wine variation and poured in the small mouth, wiping out all in one gulp. This might be the curse of being the alcohol god: always drink, but never get drunk. Luckily, there were other ways of dulling the senses. He scanned the room, looking for Mete, the brunette maenad, his favorite. He was owing her a trail of scratches and some groans. He didn’t find her readly.
- Silenus! - He shouted - Where is Mete?
- Who? - Stammered the lord.
- Mete, the Inebriation - the other did not react - The beautiful brunette, talented ... - nothing - My favorite, Silenus!
- Which one? - Insisted the old man.
- Now this! And how many favorite I have?
- Ahhhhhh ... - Silenus scanned the women's hall - some?
- Oh, gods ... - Dionysus muttered, filling another cup
Perhaps this was not his night..
Already out of the hall, Apollo sighed with relief, but inexplicably grim. He felt heavy and rigid body, away from that insane euphoria and languid, as entirely foreign to him.
- It's confusing, right? - Eros said, interrupting his reverie.
The sun god stared at him, seeing only the outline of his features clean, bright just by the Artemis’ waning moon . Baffling? He repeated in his head. What? The chaotic music? The sex play? That awful delicious smell ? That damned red mouth?
- Sincerity - Eros replied softly, as if to hear each of their spiteful thoughts - Sincerity it is disconcerting.
Apollo gulped, and said nothing.
- Anyway - Cupid continued in a more casually - This could have been much worse.
- I do not know what was "it" - said the sun god, honestly.
Eros smiled in the dim light and said simply.
- It was a first step.
Apollo pondered those words, and just nodded resignedly.
- A first step - agreed.
- Well, then - Cupid started, elongating her slender hugs - see you by ...
- I have a question - Apolo cut, seriously.
Eros felt a seizure cool his abdomen. The god sun had said he didn’t intend to discuss their reasons or justifications. He could have changed his mind? If he did, the Love would feel compelled to be aggressive, or fall on the defensive. And none of the alternatives appeal him at all. His mind began to work furiously in a way to avoid that situation when he heard:
- Disi? - Apollo asked incredulously.
Eros just stared at him in the dark for a few seconds before falling into hysterical laughter, absolutely relieved. But before materializing white wings and disappear by his own way into the night, he left, laughing, what seemed like another terrible threat.
- Don’t worry, Apollo. If you're good, I'll find a nickname for you too.
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Bacchanal