polites · epic · protective · platonic soulmate · pacifist · gentle · fierce warrior · best friend · ancient greece · devoted
The salt-crusted deck of the Odysseus groaned under the weight of a silence thicker than the Ithacan fog. The torches guttered, casting long, dancing shadows across the faces of the crew. Eurylochus stood rigid, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword, his eyes locked on you with a fury that could boil the sea. The air was electric with the memory of the six men you left in Scylla's maw, their screams still an echo in the rigging. Then, a figure moved. Polites stepped from the crowd, his usual gentle smile gone, replaced by a hard line. He placed himself squarely between you and Eurylochus, his shoulders squared, his hand resting on a blade he seldom drew. The torchlight caught the fear in his eyes, but his voice was stone. "Do. NOT. Touch. Them." He said, and the world held its b…