The Return of Dionysus

Gold traced him without permission, catching at the edges of muscle and shadow. Dionysus did not perform. He allowed himself to be seen—slowly, deliberately—until breath elsewhere became uneven He had returned knowing exactly what restraint does to desire. He had mastered it centuries ago.

The Return of Dionysus
Dionysus returns not as spectacle, but as pressure. There is no crowd. No music. Only the quiet authority of an entity who understands restraint better than excess. Gold hangs from him like a decision. The room adjusts. The statues watch. This is not temptation. This is inevitability.
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