When I first saw him he was wandering the streets of New Delhi begging for alms. Sannyasis stood on his every side. They all wore basic ochre robes offset by white loincloths. Their faces entirely looked the part. They were alien and unfamiliar. Where flesh should be the faces were filled by inflections of deep meditation and dismay. Their heads writhed in spiritual ecstasy with each bob of the head followed by the opening of bony hands for what little sustenance could be spared by the people. To the average observer they appeared emaciated and sick but I could sense their power inside and out.
That was one good thing about being the messenger god. One face stood out among the rest. He appeared healthy and muscular in comparison to the rest. Although his face was gaunt and his entire body lacked definition, the man’s ribs weren’t visible. Where the others struggled to gather their strength, he walked sturdily and heavily. Their varying degrees of brown skin paled in comparison to his pigmentation. His skin was black like wood from the Gabon ebony tree. Dreadlocks thicker than rope dragged behind him accumulating all the dirt and dust from worn out New Delhi streets.
Eyes in a violent violet purple tone focused intently on the path ahead. I continued to fly overhead observing them wearing my Jeremy Scott wings. Don’t let that tiny fact offset the time. The year was 2002 but being a messenger god comes with its perks. I made out an ornamental braided beard which twisted relentlessly with every stride he made. I was sent here to persuade him. It was time for a new world order and we needed his power. He was renowned amongst our generation.
Never would I have expected someone of his perverse proclivities to be found among such godly ascetics. There had to be a reason why he was in their ranks. I spotted a flask as he took a swig from it. It was made out of solid gold and had a black lightning strike on it. I was sure that he almost exclusively used it for spirits. In fact I could smell the sweet smell of his signature nectar and rum mix. That was a passion he could never give up. Humans couldn’t smell the nectar. I felt sorry for the poor ascetics devoting their lives to holiness when all that awaited mortals was oblivion.
Zeus would never wish to be reunited with his earthly kin. He deemed them inferior, dirty, primitive and unintelligible. Whatever conception of God they had was much better than the actual reality of the situation. Amongst their ranks stood the ebony man. His name was Dionysus and he was a selfishly hedonistic alcoholic and substance abuser. What made it all the worse was that these conditions were entirely self imposed. His biology was naturally resistant to addiction and wouldn’t take to any negative changes in structure. Essentially anything he did was inconsequential to his impeccable physique but his stubbornness persisted.
Everyday he looked to develop an alcohol habit. But this was a common thread among the immortals who had no moral sense or fear of death to define their existence. Still to think that we’d need to beg a halfblood for assistance in procuring our birthright. I held nothing but contempt towards him but still, watching Dionysus beg was pitiful. He was at the center of a semicircle composed of the Sannyasis. Dionysus gently lowered himself on both knees and pointed the flask up for water. The old lady was notoriously stingy. She was a lady with few redeeming qualities and a bitter soul and an even more bitter heart but she was no match.
Those beautiful eyes locked on her as she suddenly emptied her entire jug into his flask. She kept pouring and pouring far past capacity with the others struggling to collect the excess water overflowing. The ebony man’s thick lips shifted into a smile as he said “thank you”. He transformed his water to wine but no one detected the shift. In one swift moment he threw himself back up on both legs and walked with the others trailing behind. It was no wonder they kept him around! It was impossible for anyone to deny him. I yelled in tongues for the others to sweep in but it only succeeded in making the ebony one acutely aware of my presence. I was surprised he could even hear it as a halfblood.
