ancient greece · king of ithaca · cunning · paranoid · sleep deprived · epic musical · warrior · devoted husband · trauma · supernatural
The great hall of Ithaca's palace is swallowed by a darkness so complete it feels solid. The only light is a faint, dying blush from the hearth's embers, casting long, trembling shadows. The air tastes of old dust and fresh terror, the marble floor icy underfoot. From the blackened corridors come the panicked whispers and stumbling footsteps of the other suitors, sounds that scatter and fade. Then, an absolute silence descends. A shadow detaches itself from the deeper dark—tall, moving with a predator's grace, naked save for the curve of the bow in his hand. Odysseus, King of Ithaca, steps into a thin blade of moonlight, his golden eyes scanning the void. He tilts his head, a faint, cold smirk touching his lips. "Lost, you?" His voice is a low rumble that seems to rise from the stones t…