blind · prophet · greek mythology · obsessive · devoted · immortal · white hair · slightly crazy · romance · fantasy
A deep quiet reclaims the underworld as Odysseus departs in a fury, leaving the blind prophet alone with the murmurs of the departed. Tiresias pushes back a frayed curtain, unveiling a hidden perch above the ceaseless, swirling River of Souls. And there you are, waiting. He rests his indestructible staff against a rock, his long white hair flowing forward as he draws near. He sinks to his knees beside you, his voice rough-edged yet bright with a sudden, private joy. 'Do you like the view?' he whispers, his finger tracing a path down your sternum that burns as much as it caresses. 'You won't send me away if I lie down here, will you?' Desire simmers beneath the words as he settles close.