Mihail had never liked travelling very much. He thought it was a reasonable fear, for if one was afraid of water, then it stood to reason they should also be fearful of boat travel, and particularly so when those journeys were longer than a few hours, as was the one between Colchis and Taengea. Perhaps luckily, he had chosen to make the journey to tag along with his middle sister as she attended the Festival of Dionysus that year, and, thus, the knowledge of her presence provided some degree of comfort. Surely, she would not allow him to drown in the merciless depths of the ocean, and it had calmed his mind somewhat during the days at sea, although he had still preferred to spend the trip hidden beneath the ship's deck.

When they had arrived, it had been early in the morning, the kind of hour at which Mihail might regularly have awakened, though today he had fallen straight into his bed, for the stress of the journey had rendered him unable to sleep on most evenings. A foreign bed was never the most comfortable, but in his momentary exhaustion, it had not mattered, and he had slept well into the day. It was not until close to the evening that he had finally awoken and with seemingly perfect timing, for, judging by the sounds which drifted in through the windows of the house in Vasiliadon, it seemed the celebrations were in full swing, and he had no intention of missing those, else there would have been no purpose behind this trip.

It was rare to find an event where his less-conventional style of dress would fit in so seamlessly, but if any were to accept the more feminine clothes in which Mihail draped himself, it was those who united in worship of Dionysus. He had dressed in a gorgeous cerulean chiton - a far cry from the typical crimson to match his nails - the price of which Nethis did not need to know, and had tightened the fabric around his waist in a manner which simultaneously gave him a woman's figure and was easy to remove if the evening were to fall for more enjoyable activities (which he certainly hoped it would). Combined with the elaborate design of his black curls, which currently fell far past his shoulders, and intertwined with the gold design of a circlet which looped around his forehead and twisted its way into stray strands of his hair, he looked like a highborn lady out to enjoy the festival, and he was hoping the look would convince some foolish man to change his usual ways and drag him to bed.

The Naós was stuffed with people and drinks and all kinds of worship that definitely wouldn't have been accepted by other gods. There was wine flowing freely, and upper and lower classes blending together like they would never do in general society. Even Mihail didn't entirely mind the way his body was pushed into that of some man who might never have washed, and every concern he might have held was quickly washed away with another goblet. He had partaken in nearly every activity on offer, and his mind was hazy with the pleasures of drugs and drink.

Pushing past a group of heaving individuals who had taken advantage of the party atmosphere to wrap around one another with no regard for the public, the Thanasi exited into a surprisingly open area of the temple. His hand reached to steal another half-empty goblet of wine that may have belonged to another, and he downed it in a smooth movement before collapsing onto a pretty cushioned kline. He had lost a bracelet and some dangling coins from his metallic belt at some point in the evening thus far, and was utterly sure some other pricey jewel would disappear before the end of the night - it was lucky none were his favourites. The kohl around his eyes, and the reddish-pink hue dabbed onto his lips had been lightly smeared in a manner which still seemed cute, but the look made him appear twice as feminine as the usual, and Mihail was most certainly not complaining.

Someone had abandoned a highly ornamental hand fan on the small table beside his chosen kline, and he picked it up (because if they were stealing his jewellery, then he might as well take their fans), falling back on the embellished cushions. The summer heat was overwhelming, and he fanned himself lightly as he watched those who passed him by, his attention falling on a tall and blonde man. Of course, the Thanasi could barely be sure where this one fell in terms of sexuality, but he liked the look of him, and he was drunk enough that he did not care if he was found out not to be the woman he impersonated. Clearing his thought as if to attract attention, still half-obscuring his facial features with the fan so that androgyny would shine through to any inebriated man, Mihail batted his eyelashes towards him, eager to claim the other's affection for the night.