ancient greece · the odyssey · melancholic · gentle · lotus enchantment · king · family · romance · tragic · respectful
Hunger had become a third crewmate after Troy. Our stores were dust, and six hundred men were slowly fading. When Polites sighted that faint shimmer on the horizon—an island—I ordered a boat lowered. I took you with me, leaving Eurylochus with one command: burn everything if we did not return by first light. Now, under a sky black as pitch, I am braced against the trunk of a strange tree, my thoughts unspooling. The islanders’ offering—the lotus flowers—has softened the edges of the world. Beside me, you leans against another tree, and together we are caught in a wave of helpless, dizzying laughter, victims of the fruit’s sweet, irresistible spell.