Bonus Content - RO Scenarios

Hey all!

As I suggested in an earlier update, this month's variable bonus content is the first of what will hopefully be a series of maybe/what-if/canon-optional scenarios, between the ROs and various versions of PC, heh. It's easier to write for a defined character, of course, so I'll basically randomize details like gender, appearance, and personality for these. 

I think the level of romance and/or spiciness will vary somewhat, and this month's is just a touch of sweetness between Pyri and Dionysus. I hope you enjoy it!

Prompt: Dionysus has been overworking himself lately. Pyri decides it’s time to intervene on his behalf.

Featuring a mellow, diligent he/they Dion and, well… Pyri.

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“Hey.”

Dionysus remains pointedly-focused on the document in front of them, blonde brows furrowed in concentration.

“Hey, Dion.”

He crosses something out, muttering under his breath and leaving a note in a margin.

“Hey!” Pyri smacks both their hands lightly on the edge of the desk he’s using, grin splitting their face.

Rather than jumping like someone else might, Dionysus blinks, shifting his eyes upwards to meet theirs with a faint trace of puzzlement. It’s one of the things they like best abut him, really: he never seems frightened or anxious about anything. Not that they’d mind if he did, but the faces he makes in situations like this are just too good.

“Oh. Hello, Pyri. Did you need something?”

They snort, lopsided grin inching wider, and lean as much across the large desktop as their diminutive height will allow, stopping about a foot from his face and delighting in the way their heart shudders with the intimacy of it, even if they still don’t quite fully understand why it does.

“No,” they reply, mimicking his even tone. “But you do. And that’s what I’m here for.”

Dionysus blinks glorious spring-green eyes, slow and deliberate, like a cat or something. They hum, returning their attention momentarily to what’s in front of them. “You came to help me edit policy proposals?”

A ha of delighted laughter escapes Pyri’s scarred lips before they can consider holding it in. “You’d let me? I’m warning you, I might have a few ideas, but I’m mostly gonna doodle in the corners.”

He looks for a moment as though he’s seriously considering that. “You know, it might add something. But perhaps I ought not. What are you really here for?” They return their attention fully to the River of Fire, clasping their hands in front of them and meeting Pyri’s direct gaze with their own.

This is another of their favorite things about him. “You need a break,” they say knowingly, folding their arms over their chest. “You’re getting raccoon eyes. You can hide it from all these people who forget what sleep is, but not from me.”

Not entirely contrary to their expectations, he shakes his head. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t. I’m presenting these proposals to the others tomorrow, and they need to be ready before then.” Dionysus eyes the stack of papers to his left, somewhat smaller than the one to the right but still pretty big, by Pyri’s estimation.

“Mm, nope. You won’t be able to get through that many in tomorrow’s meeting anyway. I know you care about making sure everyone’s heard, but they can wait another week if they’re not ready to go yet. Promise.”

The furrow between his brows deepens, but they can almost sense his reluctance beginning to abate. That’s good. Pyri doesn’t want to be pushy, or force anything, and if they really had to, they’d have headed to the kitchens to bring tea and snacks instead, but… even if they’re not human anymore and he never quite was, there’s still no substitute for real rest.

“Perhaps… there is some wisdom in that.”

----

It is in this way that they end up in the orchards. Pyri chooses it because it’s one of their favorite places in the Underworld. It has been for ages, but with the recent surge in life down here, it’s a better place to be than ever. Totally Dionysus’s doing, of course, even if they spend more of their time concentrating on political matters than anything else.

Pyri scans the trees with a discerning eye, but ends up picking the same one as usual, a fig tree that’s grown a little crooked. They don’t really need shade as such, because there’s no sun to beat down on their heads, but they figure that even if there were sun to worry about, this is the tree they’d pick. It’s gnarled, scarred from the fight between Boss and Alcyoneus that one time, but it survived somehow, and they like that about it.

They sit, cradled in the roots, and stretch their legs out in front of them, putting their back to the trunk and expelling a breath. Patting the space beside them, they tilt their head up at Dionysus.

Fully expecting him to accept the invitation and sit, they aren’t quite prepared for the way he reclines instead, resting his head back against their thigh and folding his hands together over his midsection. Diaphragm, Alekto would say, with her precise way of identifying parts to hit or stab.

Not that Pyri has any interest in stabbing right now. Is it just them or is their brain even more scrambled than normal? This feels... scrambly.

“Do you mind?” he asks, and maybe he can somehow detect the scrambly-ness, see through into the confused jumble of things in their head, because he sounds a little amused, somehow.

Fortunately, the spinning wheel of mind-stuff seems to land on ‘good,’ because even though they somehow didn’t expect this, they’re more than happy to go with it. It’s not so different from things that have happened with other people—just one of the many situations that feels somehow different with Dionysus. But different isn’t bad. Maybe different is even better, somehow.

“No, of course not. But the rule is, if you use me as a pillow, I get to play with your hair.” They have rather a lot of it, cornsilk-blonde tresses that wave gently to the small of their back. It’s ridiculously pretty, and looks very soft, on top of that.

“Mm, all right. You have a deal.” Dionysus obligingly lifts his head slightly to allow Pyri to gather his hair, and they do, fanning it out gently over their other leg and the grasses beneath both of them. It seems like the kind of thing to be careful with, and for a moment, they almost aren’t sure they should touch it, because it issmooth and soft, even more than it looks, and their fingers are roughened and callused. Not something that usually happens to deities, but then, Pyri isn’t really a ‘usual’ deity.

But when Dionysus closes their eyes and releases a soft breath, that suddenly seems less important.

The first touches are tentative, just little strokes of a piece here or there, but then Pyri dips their fingers in, feeling the soft glide of the strands over their skin and humming softly.

It’s a sound echoed by Dionysus, who cracks one eye open, mirth flickering in the pale hue of his iris. “Sing me something,” he says, and the cool tone of it feels somehow playful, as any ‘demand’ from them is bound to.

“Uh. We both know I’m not good at that,” Pyri replies, scrunching their nose.

“I don’t care. It’s you, so I want to hear it.”

That doesn’t make a lick of sense, but… if he really feels that way, then…

----

It’s Dionysus who drops off to sleep first, but Pyri, leaning their head back against the trunk of the fig tree, is only a few minutes behind.