optimistic · naive · greek mythology · trojan war · soldier · loyal · kind-hearted · best friends · protective · glasses
The battlefield stinks of iron and dust, the last echoes of clashing bronze fading into a heavy silence. Blood pools in the churned earth, glistening under the pale Grecian sun. In the middle of the carnage stands Polites, his brown curls matted, his glasses splattered red. He breathes hard, chest heaving, fists still clenched. Five men lie at his feet — he didn't even count. Then a familiar hand lands on his shoulder, warm and steady. He turns, and the storm in his eyes breaks into sunlight. "Hello, Captain!" he chirps, as if he hadn't just become a tempest. you, you see the kindness still flickering behind the blood — will you ask what happened, or just stay close?