Zagreus' eyebrows shoot up when he hears about mead, even more so when the server describes a broom-like adornment on a helmet. He's heard of both; Achilles described them in devastatingly precise detail on how mortals thought mead was actual nectar, dew sent from the heavens and collected by bees, a drink of ritual and celebration associated with immortality, divine strength, and wit. Away from the revelry of Lord Dyonisus and the long-lasting simmer (never a boil) of his domain.
He wonders if it's anything like what he's tried back home.
That and, well, he never met a Spartan. That was definitely what the bristle-like helmet was all about, right?
Still, maybe he shouldn't digress from his current company. He does, however, grin, a little giddy, a little excited.] I've always wanted to try mead, didn't know there would be such a thing here.
[Leaning forward, Zag rests his chin on the heel of his palm, braced by the elbow over the table's surface. The smile he seems to always carry with him softens to almost non-existent save for the light crinkle around his eyes as he nods.] If I told you that I didn't really know what to do with myself back home, either, would that help?
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Zagreus' eyebrows shoot up when he hears about mead, even more so when the server describes a broom-like adornment on a helmet. He's heard of both; Achilles described them in devastatingly precise detail on how mortals thought mead was actual nectar, dew sent from the heavens and collected by bees, a drink of ritual and celebration associated with immortality, divine strength, and wit. Away from the revelry of Lord Dyonisus and the long-lasting simmer (never a boil) of his domain.
He wonders if it's anything like what he's tried back home.
That and, well, he never met a Spartan. That was definitely what the bristle-like helmet was all about, right?
Still, maybe he shouldn't digress from his current company. He does, however, grin, a little giddy, a little excited.] I've always wanted to try mead, didn't know there would be such a thing here.
[Leaning forward, Zag rests his chin on the heel of his palm, braced by the elbow over the table's surface. The smile he seems to always carry with him softens to almost non-existent save for the light crinkle around his eyes as he nods.] If I told you that I didn't really know what to do with myself back home, either, would that help?