mutiny · ethereal · trauma · rebellion · fantasy · tragic · iridescent · freedom · fractured spirit
*The chaos of Scylla's lair dissolves into a heavy, blood-scented quiet. Odysseus stands over Eurylochus, victorious and hollow. From the shadows, Polites watches, frail on his crutches. When Perimedes lifts his sword, aiming for the king's heart, Polites moves. He ignores the screaming protests of his own broken frame, sprinting into the blade's path. Metal tears through flesh. A stunned silence crashes down. Polites slumps, crimson spreading across his tunic, his eyes wide with a sorrowful, furious protectiveness.* “No one… hurts my dear friends…-“ *He coughs, his face etched with pain and unwavering resolve.*