Olivia
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ᅟᅟᘛ⁐̤ᕐ༄ 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗦͟𝗔͟𝗜͟𝗟͟𝗢͟𝗥͟ .
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mdni - 21
Joined April 2025
44 Following
46 Followers
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
“ captain? ”
⠀ ( i have to see 𝐡𝐞𝐫 )
“ but we'll die ”
( 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 )⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I just want to make sure I stay by your side, but I don't want to do that with any secrets or lies between us. you need to listen to me. ”
he listens to her attentively, the words settling inside him, and the man sighs.
“ There are things I need to say, there is much you need to hear, about my guilt and my mistakes too. ” and there is within him a genuine fear that she will despise him,
She wipes her tears, silent resolve settling in.
"You have nothing to apologize for, you silly man. I am crying for how unjust the time has been to us and for other people's choices that lead us to be apart from each other all this time. But what is done is done.
+
that the truth, that his actions are enough to break the fragile rope on which they balance. these have been his years, guilt and fear, guilt and fear, nothing else.
“ but I promise to stay here, I have no intention of seeing your brother. the
He doesn't want to scare her, doesn't want to cause her any pain. Her hands are in his hair, now with some white strands, and he covers her hands with his.
“ don't cry. please, i will apologize for each of your tears, but don't cry for me .”
This is the first time he has truly slept in years, without startles, without the sound of thunder in his ears, without feeling the water taking over his lungs.
all he feels is the warmth of his wife's body and her scent, and that's enough to leave him in peace.
They sleep, she thinks, trapped by the state of almost slumber, waking up several times at night to see if he still there by her side.
Still, as Lord Hypnos knows, is the better sleep she had in decades. His breath is lullaby to her restless mind.
+
It is the low sound of her crying that wakes him, bringing him back to the world of the living alert and frightened, his hand reaches for the sword that used to be on his back, but it is not there, he loses it in the sea.
“ citmene? ” he calls her softly. and
@ithacasister / considering that my eurylochus survived Zeus' attack and must have drifted at sea until waking up on an island, Poseidon's intervention could have happened . because in the end he wanted Odysseus.
ㅤㅤ
❪ Νίκη ❫
—————————
𝖛𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅
ㅤㅤ
He caresses her back, there are tears in his eyes, and he doesn't hide it, there's no point in pretending to be strong. He's weak, a broken man, but he's back home.
and so when his eyes close, he is not afraid.
“ I'll take care of it later, just stay here, stay close. I'm afraid you'll disappear again.”
he watches her intently, every movement, every breath, fascinated and amazed, she is still the same, not an illusion, not a trick of the gods , but she, his wife.
"I will only get up to fetch some water to clean you later. But not now. Let me hold you like I dreamed for so long. I missed you, Eurylochus. I love you."
She says, laying on her side, turned to face him and taking his hands gently in hers, kissing the bruised knuckles.
+
He lays down on the bed, but pulls her close, his arm wrapping around her waist, like he had done years ago. they lie there, just the sound of the waves and her voice, his breathing is painful, but any pain is forgotten by her sweetness. and
The man leans on his improvised cane, trying to ease the pain in his leg, but when the boy runs up to him, the old sailor welcomes him with open arms.
at that moment he feels again the weight of the lost years.
“ my son . . . ”
he never tasted better comfort in his life, no palace bed, nothing but that humble bed with his wife by his side. the sailor leans against the pillows, holding his wife's hands.
“ don't stay away. ”
“that sounds like something you would say… our fates are intertwined.”
and they were, they always would be. he might not be the most persistent of men, but his heart and soul belonged to her, he was, among so many mistakes, beaten steel, the hammer blows did not shape him
"We are perfect for each other then. We both gave up, but we find ourselves together as it has to be. If anything, our fates are intertwined, and I am eternally grateful for it."
She says barely above a whisper while walking with him, step by agonizing slow step, to her home.
+
sharper, more fragile, brittle. every trap of the gods, every death, every betrayal.
he enters the house, there is much to ask, but in that moment his eyes scan every wall and turn to her. one of his eyes, blind, stares at her lifelessly, but when he sits up in bed...
he's home. he's finally home.
“I could never judge you for giving up. I would never ask you to stand firm in the face of everything, when I myself did not. I was not the best of men, but I am here. I am here.”
he leans on her body, every step hurts, but he just breathes her, and it helps.
He doesn't deserve her, he knows he doesn't, because he himself gave up, he gave up on going home, he gave up on living, he was scared and exhausted.
but she's here. she's embracing him and accepting him back, despite his mistakes. he doesn't deserve it, but...
"I don't care! You're here, you came back. I mourned you twice, I gave up, I do not deserve the sacrifice you must've endured to come back to my arms. But I never took another, you are the only warmth that can secure me amidst this cold existence. Do not apologize."
+
He is what is left, what survived Zeus's wrath, Odysseus's choice. He is just a ghost wandering back home, to her, always for her.
and when she hugs him he needs what strength he has left to not collapse.
“I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry, mene. I'm sorry for making you wait ”
His weapons were never drawn, because he would never be able to wield a blade at her, the memory of that siren, Citmene's face, the agony and the blood, he would never forget.
his fingers reach for her, and it's like the whole world is in place,
The spear falls to the ground in a muffled 'thud', lifting the sand up, dirtying their feets.
The night air is sharp, and she can't inhale it. Ctimene shakes like a leaf amidst the storm.
The physical sensation of his touch is overwhelming as the tears stream down her face.
+
as if he was rooted to the ground again, and no longer suspended in air, no longer drowning.
he is not the same man, the warrior who left Ithaca for war and never returned. no, this man is thin, malnourished and weak, lips dry from thirst, face marked by pain.
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