After waking up and pushing aside the prone, sleeping forms of several other people, Dynos DeLavigne walked out to the exterior of the ship and looked around. He'd made it to Greece. 

He'd started feeling the call whilst attending the private party of a rather famous musician. He hadn't been invited but that was never really a problem for him, and anyway by the end of the night you'd of thought he'd been a lifelong drinking companion of half the people in the room. Still something had seemed amiss, and nothing, not wine, nor other illicit substances, could shake Dynos's feeling that he wasn't where he should be.

A strange compulsion, a feeling of nostalgia perhaps, had led him to look into going back to his Home. It was an easy matter then, to find that the pleasure yacht of some Russian Oligarch's wayward daughter was about to leave for Greece. After a few nights of partying all the mortals save the boat's captain and the staff, were all in varying states of unconsciousness, and they had arrived at their intended destination. Well that wasn't exactly true, their original destination had been a private island a fair distance from the coast, but after several drinks and rounds of...persuasion. Dynos had gotten the Heiress who owned the boat to have the captain plot a course for Athens.

After pulling on his clothes, and tying what few possessions he had brought into a sack which he hung onto his walking stick, Dynos-No, here he was Dionysus, walked into the land of his birth for the first time hundreds of years.

The streets had changed, the waters had changed, even the the people had changed, but somehow the soul of the city remained the same.

He could see in the distance, the looming figure of the Parthenon, rising atop the Acropolis and started making his way towards it. He wasn't sure what he would find there, but he knew that it was somehow important. After a few hours of navigating the city(and stopping for drinks a few times) Dynos made it into the crowds surrounding the monument. 

He was still amazed after all these years at the majesty that his sister's temple commanded. Say what you like about her temper, Athena had always had the best architects.

To his eyes, the forms of his Divine brethren stood out like beacons of flame, and speaking of flame, he noticed that closest to him was a heavily built man with a bit of a limp to his gait, watching the proceedings quietly as he always had. Stepping up quietly behind him, Dionysus wrapped one arm around the man's broad shoulders and said quietly, "I guess some things never change, Eh Brother?