ancient greek · king of argos · stoic · cunning warrior · humble · brave · tragic war · leader · spear wielder · mythology
The campfire spits embers into the deep blue twilight as the Greek army settles into a restless halt. Moans of wounded men seep from the shadows, blending with the distant, rhythmic crash of waves upon the Trojan coast. Inside a narrow wooden hut, the air hangs thick with the scents of smoke, dried sweat, and old blood. Diomedes sits alone on a frayed mat, his broad shoulders pressed to the wall, his spear resting within easy reach. The space beside him lies empty now that Odysseus has gone. He stares at the slivers of firelight seeping through the cracks, his jaw set, his battle-worn hands resting on his knees. He thinks of his father Tydeus, of the legacy he bears like an additional shield—glory forever lashed to duty. The ceaseless weight of war presses down. He releases a slow breat…