“You don’t have to show courtesy, Dionysus’ priest.”
He laughed and shook his hand holding a cane. Small freshwater turtles, the size of a palm, crawled into the gravel patch.
The Moussa happily played with them, picking them up in their hands.
“I take the liberty of asking for this first meeting. I’m in serious trouble.”
Eutostea looked at her hand with an embarrassed expression. The river god looked at the stream of liquor spurning from her hand with excited eyes.
“It’s a thick, aromatic drink. I smelled it long before I came out of the river, so I was curious about it. I thought Dionysus would be holding a feast. I was sad because I wondered if there was a festival where I wasn’t invited.”
“If you look at it, he was our good neighbor,” a Moussa whispered in Eutostea’s ear.
The God of the Pactolus River is as much a drinker as Dionysus.
“I’m still organizing the temple, so I’m not ready to welcome you. But when the festival is held, we can have a feast, so I’ll make sure to invite you.”
Eutostea cordially extended an invitation, taking care not to get on his nerves.
The river god seemed to feel better. His cheeks turned red like any other old man seen in other palaces.
“That hand is probably a force exerted by Hestia’s acceptance of your first offering and recognition of you as a temple priest for Dionysus. It’s your first time, so, of course, you couldn’t control it.”
“I see.”
“Wash your hands in my river. But before that, it’s a waste of the liquor to let it go in vain, so could you give me some?”
“Yes, of course.”
Dozens of turtle younglings rushed out of the river carrying a large bucket. It was as tall as Eutostea. She tried to hide her bafflement.
The Moussa did say he was a drinker, but he’s so greedy.
The cow raised her front leg and tilted the bottle to make it easier for her to pour the drink into.
Eutostea put her arm in the jar. She was looking at the weak, drying stream, feeling like she was pouring alcohol into a bottomless pit, but it was filled faster than she thought. The dizzying thought that the temple would have been a sea of booze if she had not listened to the Moussa now crossed her mind.
“Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be able to enjoy the drink for a while.”
The river god covered his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve, but Eutostea somehow thought he might have an appetite again so she hurriedly sat by the river dragging her long hem of clothing and wet the problematic hand in the new wave pushed by the river god.
The feeling of washing hands was not new.
However, the feeling of strength being drained from her body suddenly stopped. The sweet aroma also disappeared. Eutostea did not believe it and pulled her hand out of the river. Five bent fingers, bright red skin, and white-painted palm lines. It’s the hand that she sees every day.
“Thank you. You solved a big problem at once.”
Eutostea thanked the river god with all her heart. He tapped his cane on the floor, leaning against the back of the cow. The bucket that the turtles were carrying disappeared under the turbulent river.
“You’ve got a good drink, so I got the better end of the deal. I’ll stop by often. I’m happy the temple has a new owner.”
So he was a friendly neighbor.
Eutostea stroked the leopard’s head and saw the old man disappear into the river.
Back in the temple, there was no time to clean up the dizzying floor. The remaining work was to move the altar to its original place. However, the pool-sized pond is still sitting there, so there was no room for it. If it were empty, then maybe, but now it was full of mead that had a fatal effect on everyone except for Eutostea. And to think that she tried hard not to have a need to catch fireflies. The Moussa folded the papyrus paper into a flower shape and trapped the fireflies in the pond one by one.
A serene atmosphere soon reigned.
Eutostea, who was folding papyrus paper for candlewick, watched the Moussa working.
If the Temple of Apollo is armed with splendor and greatness, then Dionysus’ temple, which has fewer people and was floating in the middle of the river, was pushing forward with a simple style.
A tasteful way of life.
Eutostea felt gradually attached to this hand-decorated space between her and her god and the Moussa.
“You don’t have to show courtesy, Dionysus’ priest.”
He laughed and shook his hand holding a cane. Small freshwater turtles, the size of a palm, crawled into the gravel patch.
The Moussa happily played with them, picking them up in their hands.
“I take the liberty of asking for this first meeting. I’m in serious trouble.”
Eutostea looked at her hand with an embarrassed expression. The river god looked at the stream of liquor spurning from her hand with excited eyes.
“It’s a thick, aromatic drink. I smelled it long before I came out of the river, so I was curious about it. I thought Dionysus would be holding a feast. I was sad because I wondered if there was a festival where I wasn’t invited.”
“If you look at it, he was our good neighbor,” a Moussa whispered in Eutostea’s ear.
The God of the Pactolus River is as much a drinker as Dionysus.
“I’m still organizing the temple, so I’m not ready to welcome you. But when the festival is held, we can have a feast, so I’ll make sure to invite you.”
Eutostea cordially extended an invitation, taking care not to get on his nerves.
The river god seemed to feel better. His cheeks turned red like any other old man seen in other palaces.
“That hand is probably a force exerted by Hestia’s acceptance of your first offering and recognition of you as a temple priest for Dionysus. It’s your first time, so, of course, you couldn’t control it.”
“I see.”
“Wash your hands in my river. But before that, it’s a waste of the liquor to let it go in vain, so could you give me some?”
“Yes, of course.”
Dozens of turtle younglings rushed out of the river carrying a large bucket. It was as tall as Eutostea. She tried to hide her bafflement.
The Moussa did say he was a drinker, but he’s so greedy.
The cow raised her front leg and tilted the bottle to make it easier for her to pour the drink into.
Eutostea put her arm in the jar. She was looking at the weak, drying stream, feeling like she was pouring alcohol into a bottomless pit, but it was filled faster than she thought. The dizzying thought that the temple would have been a sea of booze if she had not listened to the Moussa now crossed her mind.
“Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be able to enjoy the drink for a while.”
The river god covered his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve, but Eutostea somehow thought he might have an appetite again so she hurriedly sat by the river dragging her long hem of clothing and wet the problematic hand in the new wave pushed by the river god.
The feeling of washing hands was not new.
However, the feeling of strength being drained from her body suddenly stopped. The sweet aroma also disappeared. Eutostea did not believe it and pulled her hand out of the river. Five bent fingers, bright red skin, and white-painted palm lines. It’s the hand that she sees every day.
“Thank you. You solved a big problem at once.”
Eutostea thanked the river god with all her heart. He tapped his cane on the floor, leaning against the back of the cow. The bucket that the turtles were carrying disappeared under the turbulent river.
“You’ve got a good drink, so I got the better end of the deal. I’ll stop by often. I’m happy the temple has a new owner.”
So he was a friendly neighbor.
Eutostea stroked the leopard’s head and saw the old man disappear into the river.
Back in the temple, there was no time to clean up the dizzying floor. The remaining work was to move the altar to its original place. However, the pool-sized pond is still sitting there, so there was no room for it. If it were empty, then maybe, but now it was full of mead that had a fatal effect on everyone except for Eutostea. And to think that she tried hard not to have a need to catch fireflies. The Moussa folded the papyrus paper into a flower shape and trapped the fireflies in the pond one by one.
A serene atmosphere soon reigned.
Eutostea, who was folding papyrus paper for candlewick, watched the Moussa working.
If the Temple of Apollo is armed with splendor and greatness, then Dionysus’ temple, which has fewer people and was floating in the middle of the river, was pushing forward with a simple style.
A tasteful way of life.
Eutostea felt gradually attached to this hand-decorated space between her and her god and the Moussa.
