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>28 vs 16 – three degrees of success!
>Dionysus smiles upon Deianira’s plan for revelry!
Winged words escape the barrier of your teeth – and to your glee, you find that you have struck the appropriate tone, the correct phrases that soften Thrinakos’ resistance to your imposition. A strange gleam enters his eye as he listens to your impassioned request for aid – servant to servant – and his tanned visage, previously stern, rumples unexpectedly into a broad grin. Wrinkles of kindness appear in the corners of his eyes and around his mouth – and for a moment, you see the carefree boy that he must have been, before he came to Hellas.
“It has been too long since this palace was visited by Dionysus Σωτηριος, reliever of madness. Cloying paranoia has meandered through these halls for too long, Pylia. Your words are fair and orderly - a respite from the heavy manacles of discipline is needed. Your play will break the spell that has robbed the οἶκος of its pleasures!”
Thrinakos snaps his fingers and he is immediately attended to by no less than four gray-robed kitchen servants – a few seconds more, and they whirl away to the Palace’s endless number of storage rooms, to unearth the most ancient and venerable wines for tonight’s sampling. Thrinakos spends a few minutes more chatting amiably – now that the conspiracy has been struck, he seems to view you as a treasured servant of the οἶκος, rather than the stranger that you are. You thank him earnestly, before you depart the Palace itself, and make your way to the theatre. Dusk is falling about the hillside, as the purple veil of a Phoenician princess might drape itself about a chair or lounge; streams of servants, spearmen tarry about their tasks, but you catch whispers on your way:
“A play – a comedy tonight!”
and also
“Did you see the oenochoe being pulled from the stores? Thrinakos must have been moved by Dionysus himself!”
Reviewing recent events mentally, you can hardly believe your luck so far - but it seems like the gods are at your side, here in the Damachidean realm. It feels like with every step, barriers are moved aside and even the most iron-hardened hearts are softened before you: truly, the gods are cruel and kind in equal measure. Striding downhill, along the pathway flanked with lit torches and braziers, you find that your mood is buoyant – you haven’t been this pleased since before – but you cannot forget the black memory of the Stream Catastrophe, can you? The wet, cold hands of the river daimon crush against your neck even now – there is a deep place, a drowning place, within your mind that cannot be discarded – not until justice has been meted out. You shake these dreary thoughts of vengeance from your mind, as you stride into the theatre grounds.
