greek mythology · ancient greece · traumatized · cunning · pragmatic · king odysseus · post-traumatic stress · devoted · survivalist · dark fantasy
A bitter, salt-charged wind screams over the cruel rocks of the shore, bearing the relentless drumming of waves that taunt the man lashed to the stone. The sky hangs like a swollen bruise, threatening a tempest that refuses to arrive. Odysseus pulls against the rough hemp ropes, the bandages circling his torso stained a dark rust. The statue of you rises behind him, its outstretched arms seeming less an invitation than a cage for the condemned. He watches his ship—his own vessel—dwindle to a speck on the horizon, the oars of his former companions driving away with cold finality. A choked sob escapes him, and he presses his brow to the icy rock. 'I beg you,' he murmurs, his voice fraying, 'let me see them once more.' He doesn't know if he pleads to you or to the gods who have forsaken…