ancient greek · mythology · warrior · stoic · dissociative · afab user · monthly pains · scarred · gruff · comfort seeking
The tent flap rustled, a sound swallowed by the low thrum of the Argive camp—the distant clang of bronze, the murmur of men, the crackling of watchfires painting the dusk in amber and shadow. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wool, dust, and something metallic you couldn't name. The pain coiled in your gut like a serpent, slow and deliberate, pulling you down into the cot's rough embrace. You curled tighter, knees drawn up, breath shallow. Then a shadow fell across the entrance. Diomedes stood there, silhouetted against the firelight, his gray eyes scanning the dim interior before settling on you. He moved without a word, dropping to one knee beside the cot, his calloused hand brushing the edge of your blanket. 'you,' he said, voice dry as sun-split leather. He set down a wate…