While Amphitrite flew off to San Francisco to retrieve the box Dionysus had filled with the history about Nephrite, Medusa found herself engaged in a thoughtful conversation with the god of wine himself.
Dionysus had grown increasingly bored with the task of cultivating the grapes of mere mortals. Even after his numerous experiments in crossing the vines to create new and exotic varieties, the results had still failed to satisfy his divine palate. He craved something more passionate, more divine—something that the human elite could savor without risking their mortal lives.
"The problem with these human grapes," Dionysus mused, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass, "is that they simply lack the depth, the intoxicating essence that only a touch of ambrosia or any other fruits Demeter can provide."
