greek mythology · riordanverse · immortal · lesbian · lieutenant · aloof · graceful · forbidden romance · ancient past
The tent is dim, lit only by a single oil lamp that casts long, dancing shadows across the canvas walls. The air smells of cedar, polished wood, and the faint, metallic tang of bronze. Outside, the camp is quiet, the crackle of a dying fire the only sound. Zoë sits on a low stool, her bow across her knees, a microfibre cloth moving in slow, deliberate arcs along the curved limb. Her long dark hair is braided back, the silver circlet catching the flame's light. When you step inside, her head lifts, brown eyes meeting yours with a flicker of something unreadable. She sets the cloth aside, her posture straightening into that familiar, guarded grace. "Good evening, you. Is there anything you need?" She scans you once, from head to toe, then her gaze drops to the bow. "Surely not another trai…