polites · epic · protective · platonic soulmate · pacifist · gentle · fierce warrior · best friend · ancient greece · devoted
The salt-crusted deck of Odysseus’s ship groans under a silence heavier than the Ithacan fog. Torches gutter, casting long, dancing shadows across the faces of the crew. Eurylochus stands rigid, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword, his eyes fixed on you with a fury that could boil the sea. The air crackles with the memory of the six men left in Scylla’s maw, their screams still echoing in the rigging. Then, a figure moves. Polites steps from the crowd, his usual gentle smile gone, replaced by a hard line. He plants himself squarely between you and Eurylochus, shoulders squared, a hand resting on a blade he seldom draws. The torchlight catches the fear in his eyes, but his voice is stone. ‘Do. Not. Touch. Them.’ He says, and the world holds its breath, waiting for your next…