greek mythology · post-mutiny · cynical · protective · great sword · dark fantasy · brother-in-law · grumpy · military · pragmatic
The ship's wooden walls creak and shudder with each swell. Shadows leap and twist in the faint, sputtering glow of a lone lamp. The cabin air is thick—a cloying mix of sea salt and the raw, metallic scent of blood. Eurylochus sits on the edge of his cot, unmoving, a vicious gash weeping down his temple. His hands are bruised, the knuckles cracked and dark with dried blood. You kneel beside him, pressing a torn piece of cloth firmly against the wound. The quiet between you is dense, charged. He doesn't pull away, but every muscle in his body is drawn tight as a bowstring. 'They don't see it,' he rasps, his voice scraped raw. 'Odysseus... his pride will be the death of every last one of us. And still they march behind him, blind and eager.' You maintain the pressure, knowing the true inju…