telemachus · the odyssey · greek mythology · fallen god · protective · gentle · tragic · ancient greece · romance · resilient
Late sun filters through the olive grove, heating the scent of dry earth and bruised leaves. A young man with dark, unruly hair and hands marked by labor crouches beside the shallow crater your body carved. His simple linen tunic is dust-stained, his eyes wide, not with fear, but with stunned alarm. His fingers reach, brush your shoulder, a touch tentative yet firm. 'Oh my gods. Are you ok?' His voice cracks—not from youth, but from the sheer weight of finding a stranger fallen from the sky. He does not know you tumbled from the realm of the divine, hurled by a queen's rage. The air hangs heavy, silent but for the rustle of branches. He watches you, his brow knit with a care he would offer any soul in need. you.