Apotheosis/Dione
You're on your way to Atlantis, riding on a Greek merchant ship through the Atlantic. As your companion, you've got a bag full of clothes and other personal belongings, a generous amount of travel money, and a little secret. The reason for your journey is an unfortunate one, and honestly, a story so long you could make a theatrical play out of it. To summarize things, you can't stay in Egypt without risking your safety and wellbeing, so your plan is to take refuge somewhere for time being. You're desperate to get away from there.
But why Atlantis? Out of all places you could flee to, why choose a nation that's locked in a war with Egypt? It is honestly your best bet all things considered. Babylon has seen better years, Greece is locked in a bloody civil war between various factions, and Rome… Well, let's just say it's no better than Egypt. Atlantis on the other hand is as peaceful and prosperous as always. Sure, the ongoing conflict with Egypt is something that could be affecting you negatively, but it's not like it's the Egyptian citizens that the government of Atlantis has a problem with. Besides, you haven't had to worry about war in Egypt, you probably don't have to worry about it in Atlantis. You'll be fine. Probably. Hopefully…
The ship you're riding is not by any means a small ship, but it's not a big one either. It only has a crew of eighteen men, with additional twenty cabins for potential travelers and extra hands. It has been a long ride with many stops, but it's about to come to its end. You left the Canaries, the paradise you spent the last two days relaxing at while the ship along with its crew was working. There's only one stop ahead until the ship sails back to Greece. You should arrive to the port of Atlantis by next morning, as long as the calm wind keeps blowing anyway.
Sun is starting to set, and you're relaxing in the bar located in the stern. While clean, the bar is rather dark, and the stench of tobacco is inescapable. In front of you, you've got some hard, spiced liqueur, a famous import from the continent across the Atlantic, and you're getting tipsy. An old man with a long, grey beard is sitting on the other side of the table. He's a fresh face, so he must've embarked the ship from the Canaries.
Each of you are deep in your respective thoughts, when suddenly, for the first time, your eyes finally meet. He greets you with a low-tone, grunting "Hello."
"Good evening", you reply.
"Those are some nice clothes yer wearin' ", he says, complimenting your appearance. Well, not to toot your own horn or anything, but he's not exactly wrong. Your appearance exhumes class through your clothes, through your jewels, through your thin layer of make-up, through your perfume and through your well-kept hair. It's not an outfit one would expect from a noble, or even from a priest, but compared to the cheap rags this man and most of the people working in the ship are wearing, you're in the class of your own. "Where ya from, lass? Travelin' alone?"
"Yes, I am alone, and I come from Egypt."
He grins, revealing his sparse row of teeth. "I knew that", he says, and lets out a laugh. "Ya have that face of da Egyptian, ya have that mix'd skin pigment…" His eyes stray downwards, to your chest, and he says no more. Your blouse is not the most modest one. In fact, the neckline is quite revealing, and your bust is quite large on top of that. Having realized his prying eyes on your breasts, you decide not to act. Let him stare for all you care. It does not offend you the slightest bit. "What's the meanin' of yer trip, lass?"
You ponder for a moment, because you're not sure how to phrase your thoughts. "I guess", you begin, slowly, smiling mysteriously, "I'm just searching for some luck."
Nodding, he grins, and he laughs. "Atlantis is da land of opportunity. I'm sure a young lass such as yaself will find luck easily."
You thank him for his encouragement.
"What's yer name?" he asks.
"Dione", you reply. "Just Dione."
The man looks suspicious. "I've heard of Dione…"
"Well, it is a common name. Which Dione are you talking about?"
"Da one who serves da king", he replies, with a grandiose tone in his voice.
"There's no such Dione", you reply, immediately seeming a little irritated. "She got fired from her job."
His eyebrows raise. "Why?"
"Because her new boss is a stupid bitch."
"Oh, that's true, that's true", he says, nodding, smiling. "Right, she ain't no king. She's da queen."
"She's no queen either", you reply. "She's a dictator. It's the only title she deserves." You down your drink. This is already your second drink, and you're starting to feel it. You tend to get talkative when you're drunk. "I mean fucking hell, that cunt's only seven! Forget about underage drinking and fucking, it should be illegal for anyone under eighteen to lead a fucking country! I wouldn't be surprised to see Egypt burning to the ground under her leadership!"
He laughs loudly. "Egypt is too big to fail. It takes more than just one dumb leader to sink dat ship."
You sigh. "I hope you're right."
He displays his approval with a couple of nods. "Oh, that's why ya left?"
You kind of want to add that you didn't technically leave, as it was more about being forced to leave, but decide to not dwell on technicalities and nuances for now. You just quietly nod.
"So yer dat Dione, huh? Yer younger than I thought."
"Oh, please. I'm an old lady."
"So, what they tell about ya is true, huh…"
You instantly regret your comment about being an old lady, but since he knew about you, and he probably also knew already that you're a divine. Yeah, that's the little secret you hold; you don't really want random outsiders to know about your divinity. That's solely because of your unique divine ability that is very much sought after. It is an ability to that is guaranteed to get you on the good side of many people, but also, on the bad side of some. It also happens to be partially because of divinity why you don't look your age. The last time you really looked your age was when you were in your teens. Sure, you've grown since then, as evident by your voluptuous body, but that's something you can change any time. You may be limited by your genes but choosing between a mature and a childish body is just a matter of choice for you. Just like with clothing, you can pick a new form for every day.
"Ya know, Dione", he says, and swirls his glass of wine around. "I like to brag 'bout my adventures, tell everyone 'bout my wild life… But I've never met a divine quite like ya. I feel like ya have much better stories to offer. Why not share yer tales with this old man?"
You've got all the time to tell even a longer story to this old man. He seems interested, and it's not like you've got anything better to do. The only question is that do you trust him with all that information? Well, why the fuck not. He seems trustworthy enough to learn about your secrets, your powers and your past. You order yet another drink, and you begin by telling him about your oldest memories, the ones you barely even remember.