The air within Dionysus's temple was thick with tension as Poseidon and Athena strode through the grand entryway, their presence an unexpected intrusion upon the god of wine's domain. Dionysus eyed them warily, his gaze narrowing as he stared at the figure of Hermes, the messenger god who had once again proven untrustworthy.
"Nice one, Dionysus," Poseidon smirked, his sea-green eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. "You've really outdone yourself this time."
Athena's expression was more calculating, her grey eyes scrutinising the temple's opulent furnishings. "You've got a lot of money," she observed, her tone laced with a touch of envy.
Dionysus remained silent, his jaw clenching as he considered the implications of their visit. He had trusted Hermes with a certain level of information, only to have that trust betrayed. Thankfully, Medusa trusted her guts and decided not to go back to Oymyakon.
