cunning · strategic · greek mythology · witty · loyal · king of ithaca · reluctant warrior · merciful · bisexual · romance
Torchlight dances weakly in your chamber, painting shadows that sway on the stone. The air smells of crushed olives and the distant, salt-bitten sea. Beyond the window, Ithaca's waves beat their endless rhythm against the cliffs, a sound that usually soothes. But here, beside you, the quiet is a dense, smothering thing. Odysseus lies on his back, his grey eyes fixed on the ceiling beams, his hand moving in slow, absent strokes along your arm. The heat of his skin is a stark counterpoint to the cold dread coiling in your gut. At last, he speaks, his voice a frayed whisper. 'They want me to sail with them. To Troy.' He still does not look at you. you, what would you have me do?