“Wet,” he replied, sitting up with his elbows resting still on the grass, his legs stretched out in front of him. Dionysus cocked his head at her much like the nymph had done when she’d seen the lake and the rising water. Her power swept over him, a reminder of the things that were no more, Zeus with his thunderbolts or Hera coming to punish him for something that he did, something that she did not approve of or find humorous. If she were Hera, Dionysus would have been speedily standing before her, ready to defend his actions. And when that didn’t move her, there was always something that he could say about her husband, about how he’d seen Zeus in the meadow with a nymph, Zeus in the forest with a mortal woman, Zeus in the form of a buck, chasing after this or that.
She wasn’t anybody that he recognized, yet alone the bad tempered stepmother who had never wanted him to exist in the first place. So he didn’t get up to stand before her like he would have done if the source of power came from a family member or somebody that he knew well. The sodden grass kept him and Dionysus was intent on ignoring his drenched state until he was dried by the air, or bothered by the feeling of the moisture against his skin.
His green complexioned nymph was clinging to the branch of her tree, high up off the ground and hidden behind swaying leaves. Dionysus didn’t need to check up on her and didn’t exactly care to know that she was safe and kept. The girl— yes, she did look very much like a girl— was taking away his attention. For the time being, she was the only thing he was interested in being interested in.
“I’ve never had power over water before. The water doesn’t belong to me… But it almost does now.” Dionysus stopped to think. He searched the lake, searched the sky and then ran his eyes over her body, inspecting.