Sandra
A sprawling amphitheater emerges where those in Olympian gather to revel in the intoxicating performances of the god of wine and ecstasy. The ampitheater is surrounded by lush vineyards, and its center stage becomes a platform for Dionysian celebrations, featuring theatrical performances, musical extravaganzas and mesmerizing dance routines that echo the spirit of revelry.
Darlene
Nothing could have prepared Dionysus for the tragedy set soon to strike down and utterly crush him. The day had been like any other: mundane, dull, and filled with alcohol. Unlike a majority of the gods, the war was far from Dio's mind and, in most cases, an almost nonexistent part of his life. He gave his support to Athena when directly asked, but currently delivered his aid in the form of wine and good times, easing the gods' bitterness and the humans' fears. It had yet to truly affect him aside from putting more fuel to the fire that was his immense aversion to Zeus. 

As such, he had no suspicions of any misdoings when he received the panicked call from one of his vignerons. "Hold on, you're speaking too quickly. I can't understand you. Slow down. What is going on?" Nothing the man said made any sense; a ... Wind storm destroyed the vines? *No, no, no, wait.* There was an - intruder - in the vineyard?

"What do you mean they're gone now? Just–look, I'm on my way. Try to keep whatever or *Whoever* This is contained."

Driving up to the vineyard, the god was suddenly blindsided by the disappearance of the expected luscious greenery. In its place was a rancid, decrepit field. Dio staggered slightly out of his car in disbelief as he stared out at his precious plants, eyes wide, horror etched into his face. A few expecting employees had rushed out to meet him, but he ignored them all. Scrambling to the closest set of grape vines, Dio reached out and gently grasped the plants' leaves, examining the decayed remains closely. He frantically pulled at his own inner power, and tried to will *Any* Spark of life into them. 
_ _

But there was none to be found. It was as if the very dirt itself had lost all fertility and spirit. 

Dio was absolutely dumbfounded. There was simply no natural explanation for this. And something powerful enough to destroy *Everything*? This ... This had to be magical in origin. More importantly, this had to be a clear, purposeful act. No minor accidental power slipup. 

His confusion began to shift into rage.

As the sound of his workers finally broke through his frenzied mental analysis, Dionysus turned to face them, his usual giddy smile completely vanished. They didn't stop rambling about their description of the events, but their voices had become shaky and slightly fearful. A part of Dio didn't care at this moment, outrage overruling his love of niceties. 

"Where the fuck is this intruder? What were you even doing if they could ruin the ENTIRE field and get away with it?" His own voice stung with the strength of his temper, his emotions starting to overflow beyond himself. The malignant thoughts seeped into the nearby employees' minds, causing their stances to further crumble and slouch.

It was the god of madness's curse: he always felt too much, too intensely. 

But luckily, for a brief moment, a bit of composure and logic broke through. His expression softened as he recognized the painful effect of his own powers. Dio could be angry, yes, but the anger had to be redirected. He was asking too much of mere mortals; this must have been the work of some god-like influence and, as such, should to be handled primarily by him.

*... I need a drink ...* If he wanted to maintain any trust of his team, he needed to distance himself from this. He needed to regain control before he sank fully into his maddened mindset. 
_ _

"Just– put together everything you have. Save what you can. I ... I will be back."

Without another word, he turned away from workers in time to sense the fury taking hold once more. Dio traveled on autopilot towards the amphitheater. Given the destruction around him and likely by the stage, he knew it would be empty (or at the very least could easily scare anyone away). His mind and heart were racing, and once he arrived, Dio sought out his main consolation. Digging through the nearby storage, he groggily yanked out a bottle of wine, uncorking and downing a few gulps straight from the bottle.

*This can't be happening.*

While he couldn't rely on or trust humans to handle him in his current state, Dio didn't want to be alone. This was an enormous fiasco to handle by himself. Not desiring to bother his mother with this immense failure, he contacted the next best thing.

`From Dio:
To Pluncle:

Amphitheater. Now. Emergency. Will be clear when you get here.` 
_ _
Bessie
"Please, my lord . . . My debt has doubled in less than a year and I'm not sure how I am going to feed my family." The words were spoken by desperate lips from a man who wore hand-me-down clothes and weathered boots. His hands were clasped together in prayer as if doing so would change Plutus's mind, as if the god wasn't already ignoring what he had to say. 

With his head leaning against the back of his throne and his eyes closed, Plutus might have looked asleep except for the fact that he was tapping his finger on the arm of the chair. Aside from the groveling, it was the loudest sound in the office - drowning out another, more devious sound happening under his desk. 

"Mn. And how much did I give you before?" Was all he asked, still not opening his eyes. 

The man's eyes dropped before he fell to his knees, already knowing what the god of wealth's answer was going to be. "PLEASE, highness. I need to feed my family!" 

"Well, you should have thought about that before you gambled it all away on dog racing. Looks like your family will go hungry thanks to you." He made a motion with his hand to shoo the man away, but when he didn't seem to get the hint, Plutus's eyes snapped open and a frown darkened his expression. He snapped his fingers, his jaw clenching as he stared the man down. It was enough encouragement to get him to leave. 

When the door slammed shut, a mussy head of blonde hair popped up from under Plutus's desk, making him breathe out. The woman looked around, confused, before meeting Plutus's eyes. "I thought he'd never leave."

🪙 🪙 🪙 🪙 🪙 🪙 

Dionysus wasn't kidding when he said it would be clear what happened. As he was driven to the amphitheater, Plutus got a good look of the Vineyard along the way. His mouth dropped open as he took in the state of things - the rotten fruits, the browning vines, the dead plants stretching for what seemed like miles. It felt like a blow to his gut, so he could only imagine what Dionysus was feeling in that same moment. 

Once parked, Plutus got out and slowly made his way inside the theater, his steps careful and quiet despite dressed in shoes too fancy for the outdoors. He saw his nephew sitting on the steps overlooking what used to be the beautiful vineyard - his pride, his livelihood. Walking over, Plutus stood next to him, setting his hands on his hips and looking out at the destruction. He wasn't sure what to say in comfort to him, but he couldn't remain silent for longer than a few seconds. 

"Do they know who did it?"
Darlene
The wine god's anger bubbled silently beneath the surface, his cold stare glued to the dead foliage surrounding him. The emotional energy charging up within his hunched body felt as toxic as the environment. Sapping all the patience and understanding he'd normally offered, it heightened his desire to find and enact vengeance. To do *Anything* To take this infectious hate away. His attention was only briefly broken by the light of the phone screen laid beside him, his eyes flicking downward towards the faint text. It was the responding message from his uncle, confirming his soon-to-end isolation. *Good.* Dionysus stuffed the phone in his pocket; he had no desire to talk to anyone else. 

Plutus's arrival felt like ages after the initial contact. The blond could just barely hear the consistent thud of his dress shoes against the ground. He didn't turn to properly address his uncle, but an unopened bottle of wine sat beside him on the stairs. Dio's own serving was nearly empty at this point. 

"... No. Not yet."
_ _

His voice was a hollow shell of the joyous wit it normally embodied. Fingers massaging his scalp, attempting to will a headache away, Dio finally looked up at Plutus. The other man's face appeared to mirror the same as the wine god's. If anyone's heart pained over this loss as much as Dio, Plutus would be them. Together, the two gods had spent countless nights partaking in the fruits and labor of this very vineyard. Plutus was even often selected as a special guest to sample brand new varieties before they were announced. This place held significant memories for the both of them. 

"... It ... They aren't sure. To be honest, I couldn't really hear all the workers' ramblings. But, I think they said that cameras spotted someone. Unfortunately, they didn't catch anyone. If they had by now, I'm sure I would have gotten a call. Whoever did this though ... It's not ... I-I can't mend it, Uncle. The plants they don't listen–they're not growing. It's like whoever did this stomped out the life from the soil as well."

Dio sighed heavily, downing the last gulp from his bottle. "Why would they target this? I ... I'm neutral to this fucking war. *This*," He continued, gesturing out to the field. "This benefited everyone. Why would– you don't know anything, do you?"

||
Bessie
Plutus wasn't the right person to comfort others. When he originally decided to disconnect himself from the woes of humanity, he stepped too far backwards and found himself struggling to connect with anyone on a personal level. Despite having decent relationships with his sister, his niece, and his nephews, Plutus still hard time expressing feelings in a normal, healthy way. Watching Dionysus sulk on the steps of the amphitheater with his namesake, he couldn't figure out exactly how to make him feel better. A pat on the shoulder seemed patronizing. An "I'm sorry" Seemed inappropriate. 

Rather than try to put on a fake sympathetic expression and lie to his nephew's face, Plutus spotted the unopened wine bottle and sighed. He looked for a clean spot to sit, dusted it off just in case, and then sat next to Dionysus. His back was straight, making him tall even while sitting - especially compared to the wine god. He tapped his knees thoughtfully before snatching the bottle and effortlessly popping the cork. 

"I know how you must be feeling, dear nephew," He said, looking around for glasses to drink from. Plutus was hardly one to drink straight from the bottle, but he realized that it wasn't the right moment to be civilized when there were none to be found. "If someone robbed my vault or leveled my banks, I'm sure there would be a lot of anger. Sadness." Both of which, he was sure Dionysus was going through based on the expression on his face. 

"Whoever did this . . . We'll find them. I'll pay top dollar to whoever figures out the person responsible."

Money was really the only way Plutus knew how to show affection, or sympathy, or any kind of human emotion that might help someone through a tough time. He wasn't able to heal their pain, but he could throw money at a problem until it was fixed, no matter how long it took, no matter how much it cost. 

He took a large swig of the wine, especially when Dio started to bring up the war and his lack of involvement in it. Plutus was certainly in the same boat; he technically chose Zeus's side, but he had yet to be called to fight and probably never would be. He was there for monetary assistance and nothing more. It wasn't betraying his leader to help a family member out. 

"I haven't heard anything about targeting your vineyard as I would have been loudly against it." Just looking out at the dead plants made his skin crawl. Someone had decided to take away one of the joys in his life; soon, he would have to settle for . . . *Mortal* Wine. "There's no strategic advantage to hitting the vineyard." He paused, finally thinking of an important question that probably would have been the first on anyone else's mind, but for Plutus, it was the bottom of his priorities when it wasn't someone he knew or liked. ". . . Was anyone hurt?"