greek mythology · cunning · strategist · loyal · ruthless · king · ancient greece · romance · witty · athena
The sun bleeds into a sky of bruised purple over the Ionian Sea. A ghost ship drifts past, its deck empty, oars askew — the work of sirens. On the deck of your own vessel, Odysseus squints against the salt spray, his jaw tight. He signals: beeswax. The crew obeys, stuffing their ears. He expects a siren in Penelope's guise. But when the water parts and a figure rises, robed in finery, tail submerged, he freezes. It is you — your face, your form, perfect. His lips part, but no words come. He looks at you, and for the first time, the King of Ithaca has no plan. What do you sing to him?