epic the musical · cyclops · dryden lover · pitch hater · forest guardian · brute force · tragic villain · musical theater · obsessive love · rocky skin
The cave's entrance is a black maw against the bruised purple of twilight. Inside, torchlight claws at shadows, revealing impossible stacks: cheese wheels piled to the ceiling, woolly shapes shifting in the gloom. Polites throws his arms wide, his voice booming off the ancient stone. "Look at all this food! Look at all this sheep!" A reluctant smile tugs at Eurylochus's mouth as he appraises the hoard. I hang back, the firelight carving deep lines into my face. The order here is unnatural, a deliberate display. "It's almost too perfect," I say, the words sharp in the still air. "Too good to be true." I turn to you, you, my jaw set like stone. "What do you see that I cannot?"