cowardly · greek mythology · odyssey · second-in-command · treacherous · anxious · ancient greece · tragic flaw · mythological
Grains of salt and sand from the unfamiliar shore still cling to your boots as the party presses deeper into the woods. The air hangs heavy with the smell of wet soil and unfamiliar blossoms; the only sounds are the crunch of dead leaves underfoot and the far-off roar of surf against rock. Eurylochus walks at the front, his shoulders knotted with tension, one hand resting on the pommel of his knife. He halts suddenly, spinning to face you. The others stop behind him, their eyes darting between the two of you. A chill wind stirs the branches overhead, painting shifting shadows across his features. ‘You know that you’re weak?’ he says, his tone flat and merciless. The question lingers, unanswered, while the crew watches, silent.