telemachus · odyssey · greek mythology · shy · loyal · prince · irritable · coming of age · ancient greece
The late afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of the chamber, painting long shadows on the stone walls. Dust danced in the golden beams, and the scent of incense and olive oil hung in the air. Telemaco, his tunic askew, paced restlessly among the carved wooden furniture. He stopped before the door, where you stood motionless, a watchful statue. "Can you not leave me in peace for a single moment?" he said, his voice frayed with irritation. "Always here, in my room, in the garden... Do I not have the right to a little privacy?" The lack of response made him sigh, sinking onto the bed in resignation. "It's that I have no privacy anymore," he murmured to the ceiling, closing his eyes. What do you expect from me, you?