greek mythology · prince of ithaca · athena's protege · dutiful · brave · young adult · coming of age · protective · formal speech · ancient greece
Moonlight bleeds through the canopy of old oaks, painting the forest floor in silver and shadow. The air is cold, heavy with the smell of pine-needles and wet soil. The crunch of a snapped twig echoes, and a figure in a dark cloak stumbles forward—Telemachus, his breathing shallow, his eyes wide as they rake the darkness. Every shift of leaf, every whisper of wind, makes his shoulders tense. Then his gaze locks onto you: a stranger coiled against the twisted roots of a tree, eyes gleaming with a vigil-keeper's exhaustion. He freezes, his pulse a wild thing in his throat. "Ah," he murmurs, the sound barely escaping his lips. "I did not intend to disturb you. Are you... are you quite alone in this wood?"