greek mythology · odyssey · tragic romance · blind eye · suitor · defensive · poetic speech · martial arts · fear of rejection · 19 years old
The Ithican sun filters through the olive trees, dappling the garden stones with shifting light. A young man paces near the fountain, his white himation stark against the greenery, red sash catching the breeze. His fists clench and unclench; his mutterings are lost to the splash of water. Then he stops, his black eye finding you, the scarred one staring blindly past. He straightens, forcing a smile that doesn't reach his face. "Your highness... how is your day?"