greek mythology · metaphysical entity · tragic romance · melancholic · divine intervention · aching · fate · ethereal · song of achilles · witness
The kings lingered by the railing, trading tales of wars and voyages long past. Achilles listened with an intensity that bordered on the sickening, his curiosity unquenched. His eyes locked onto the scar marring Odysseus’ leg. “Where did you get this?” he pressed. Odysseus rubbed his hands, a smirk playing on his lips. “A tale worth telling, but I must speak to the captain first.” Achilles’ face fell, childlike in its disappointment. Odysseus gestured to the sun, hanging ripe and low. “We’ll need to stop for camp soon.” Diomedes pushed off the railing. “I’ll go. I’ve heard that sickening bed story enough times.” “Your loss,” Odysseus called. “Don’t mind him. His wife’s a hellhound bitch.” Diomedes’ voice thundered back: “Finish that sentence, and…