Chapter Text
The ocean has a mind of its own, tossing the ship back and forth. Waves continue to grow in size, splashing across the deck and relentlessly wracking both the vessel and the humans on it. Large clouds muffle the light, leaving a gloomy world as the rain harshly pours down. It’s like another load on their shoulders, pelting their faces and stinging as each one struggles to move with the conditions of the world around them.
“How have they grown so quickly?!” Eurylochus shouts through the noise of the wind, sticking close to Odysseus as the Captain keeps a close eye on the ocean.
“Wish I knew.” He responded, wiping at his eyes as streaks of water run down his face. “It’s not natural.”
Not natural indeed. Three days ago it had almost been sunny and calm. A day ago had been somewhat choppy, but this? It didn’t make sense. Clouds shouldn’t gather so quickly, nor should the sea turn so restless.
Odysseus has spent years on the water. Even before the war, sailing was something he often did. He could read the tides and winds almost as easily as he could think of compliments for his wife .
Sure, he may have been mainly below deck for most of the past week. But that didn’t change how he should have been able to notice something. The ocean doesn’t just summon a storm out of nowhere; there are signs. And he’s sure there hadn’t been almost any.
“Then do you think it’s…something divine?” The Second in Command asks, voice turning hushed—which is rather unfortunate since it makes him almost inaudible over the winds.
(Odysseus’ mind flashes briefly to one conversation you and he had before leaving Troy. It had been one of the few times when you had disagreed with him over a decision for the whole crew. Of course, you had been smart enough to do it in private. You had argued that a tribute to the gods felt necessary. Not only as just common worship, but for requests to have a safe journey home and in gratitude of winning the war. He had insisted that it would be fine—there had been no time to waste. Surely, the gods would understand.)
When Odysseus doesn’t respond, still gauging the sky and oceans, Eurylochus interprets that itself.
“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.” He says, taking a step closer to Odysseus. His expression turns close to hopeful, raising a hand to gesture at the surrounding environment. “Perhaps the Gods are giving us a chance for something better we don’t know of. There may be danger in Ithaca; perhaps they’re delaying us to keep us safe.”
But , Odysseus thinks to himself, taking a slow breath, if there was danger at home, I’d like to be there to stop it, not let it get worse.
(A blessing? After he angered Athena and didn’t make almost any tribute to a divine being? He won’t admit it—he doesn’t think it’s something good.)
Turning to look at Eurylochus, Odysseus takes a moment to scan his face. His brother-in-law has a small smile, hand reaching to rest on his shoulder.
He’ll keep his fear to himself. Not his caution, though.
“What matters is how we get out of it.” Odysseus responds, looking up at Eurylochus. He gives his own, much less bright, smile. “Through these winds and the fog, Ithaca’s there. She’s so close.” Penelope . “This is our final fight, friend. We can’t die to something like this.”
Well, Eurylochus didn’t exactly have plans on dying to this storm, either.
In response to Odysseus’ words, though, another large wave clashes against the wood of the boat. It rocks to the side as Odysseus and Eurylochus stumble, slipping from the water that sprays against them from all sides.
Many of the men rowing struggle to keep hold of their oars, the wood slick. Fighting against the anger of the ocean seems almost impossible for them, yet each one continues to push.
“This storm is only going to get worse!” Odysseus stands near the front of the boat, one hand clutching the rail as the wind billows against him. His hair flails wildly, some strands whipping his face, most tossing with the wind. “So brace yourselves! It’s going to be unlike any storm we’ve faced before!”
The water from waves spray on him, one wave hitting against the boat from right behind him. Water pours down on him with a lot more force than he’d like, and he clings to the wood.
“You heard him!” Polites tries to balance Odysseus, free hand grabbing his arm. “With home so close, we must keep pushing forward!”
“Full speed ahead!” Eurylochus shouts to the crew, gesturing in the direction where their home was.
-
-
“Geez.” You mumble to yourself, one hand clutching at one of the bed posts. The other is curled into the sheets of the bed, as if that could help stabilize you. The purple cloak is draped around your shoulders, clasped near the base of your neck. It falls over your arm that isn’t slightly outstretched, providing a nice warmth. Kolonam rests in your lap, paws clutching at the fabric of the chiton you wear. Meanwhile, Ethan is situated on the chair next to the cot.
Apparently, the…not-quite lotus eaters have claws. Or, at least, Ethan does. They aren’t that large or sharp, but they work enough to keep him from sliding around. That’s a good thing, since currently everything is rocking like there’s no tomorrow.
That’s your main issue, right now. As if the pain in your body isn’t bad enough as it is, the world keeps jolting harshly. It’s enough to make you have to hold on to the bed post in an attempt to not be jostled around. Of course, some movement just can’t be stopped, which is not helping with the back pain. Or hand pain. Or torso pain. Or…yeah, you get it. You’re still in pain.
It’s been three days since the storm started. You think. You haven’t exactly been able to go up to above deck. Nope, just stuck here in this bed. Odysseus comes down when he can, but what with his duties and the storm bashing the ship, he doesn’t get many chances. When he does, you usually have to coax him into taking a nap. Which he does do, just…sitting up. In the chair.
Yeah, you’re not too sure when he started that habit, but you do know you’re gonna have to fix it. He needs actual sleep. Not in a wood chair in a way that will result in him being stiff and sore.
But anyway, other than your concern for his back in the future, you’re worried about what it’s like above deck. Odysseus keeps on trying to sound hopeful, but you can see it in his eyes. Clearly, he isn’t too positive about the storm letting up.
You aren’t, either. It’s rocking the ship with some of the worst waves you’ve ever felt before. You may or may not have fallen out of the cot a good couple times. It had been a struggle every time to try to get back on the bed. Your poor body was just getting more bruised at this point.
Something good that came from one time when you had fallen was your notebook. Okay, good is relative. It wasn’t exactly in the…best shape. Once, when the room went jerking around and you ended up flopped on the ground, you slid. That had gotten you a bit closer to a spot of the crate, where your satchel rested.
Yes, the satchel was in rather bad shape, too. But you had managed to grab it and then dragged yourself back to the cot again. That must have been quite the sight for Kolonam and Ethan.
(Why you hadn’t thought of somehow instructing one of them to drag it over or something, you don’t know. Plot reasons, you suppose.)
But back to the main focus (other than the ruthless storm attacking the crew).
Your satchel had been with you in the Cyclops’ cave. It’s a light bag, made of leather and other materials you couldn’t remember the names of. It’s an old object, slightly worn, but it’s held strong through the years.
Unfortunately, now the light brown material was…covered in dried, almost dark brown splotches. The form of the satchel was twisted and mashed in some places. Even the clasp to open it was bent, contorted.
Yeah, it’s not a pretty sight. You’re not sure how you should feel about holding a carrier that had been soaked in your blood. It definitely felt disgusting, though, when some of the dried substance flaked off on your hands when you grabbed it. Geez. As if you hadn’t seen enough of your blood outside of your body.
The notebook was both worse and better.
It wasn’t exactly too crushable, but getting hit with a club will still do damage. It was a large blow that caused a lot of harm. And what with already being slightly mush-ified from the water a day or so before then, the book didn’t have the best safety.
In short, many of the pages were crinkled or ripped. Some have smushed together, and the seams that bound the book are coming undone.
And, of course, the pages are now mainly a watery red-brown color.
Yeah.
It’s…uh, it’s something.
Well, at least now you can say you literally poured your (mainly only) blood, sweat, and tears into that book.
When you first tried to open it, it was a bit intense to look at your old, smeared notes. Drawings and sketches of other plants or buildings and such were blurred messes, almost impossible to see.
It was saddening, you had to admit. Sure, some of the drawings were just for fun and not anything important, but you still cared about it. This notebook had been, as usual, a gift from Odysseus. He had noticed long ago that you would painstakingly make your own notebooks; binding them together and preserving the pages the best you could. You can’t remember how long ago he started to at least help you with making them. Despite what you said back when the two of you and Polites were scouring the area, you knew he would almost definitely still get you a new notebook as soon as possible.
And there were some notes that you would have rathered to not lose. Some of them weren’t even notes, but actual entries. Just journal entries and things you felt were important.
Oh well. It was only one notebook. You had dozens of others.
So that’s where you’re at. That’s where you’ve been.
Just trying not to get flung off the bed again as you sometimes move your hand from the sheets to flip through the pages of your notebook.
It’s a pretty bad distraction. Cause your mind keeps drifting to other things:
The storm currently making it harder to get home. The exhaustion still piling on Odysseus.
The uneasy feeling keeps crawling back—along with the nightmares.
Getting nearly killed by a giant club is still pretty traumatizing, even if you survived. Your body hates you, and so does your memory. In those nightmares, either you fail to save Polites or it’s Odysseus. A lot of times, no matter who dies, it’s a failure. Odysseus dies, you die, Polites, Eurylochus—it doesn’t matter. That would have meant that one of you wouldn’t have been able to make it home. Death could have stopped you all. Especially you.
What if home never came? What if this storm was stronger than the fleet could take? What if every bit of fight you had put up had been for nothing? What if every death that had happened—including during the war—ended up being in vain?
A knock on the door knocks (wow, amazing pun) you out of your slow spiraling. Then the door is slowly pulling open, Odysseus peeking in.
You brighten, sitting up a little bit. Your back aches, the weaker shoulder being slow to join in the movements. That doesn’t stop you, of course. The pain doesn’t actually stop you. Right now, there’s no need to not comply with the breaks your body is begging for. At the same time, it doesn’t take much to just physically show that you’re happy to see your best friend. So you’ll just slightly push through the pain that’s fighting your willpower.
(For example, if necessary, you would climb up a bunch of ropes to a floating island in the sky. Though, that’s oddly specific. Not that you’d ever need to do that, especially in your condition.)
“M’guessing it’s not getting any better, judging b–” Life has some cruel sense of humor, you suppose. Alright, cruel is an exaggeration, but it really is quite annoying. The boat is bashed by another wave, you’re sure, since your room lurches, the cot sliding.
The crate does, too, causing a squeal from Ethan as his claws dig deeper into the wood. You let out your own small yelp of surprise, hand tightening around the post of the cot. You brace your legs, tensing the muscles to keep a low likelihood of being thrown off. Kolonam immediately burrows into you, trying to hide in your clothes.
Odysseus has two options as this begins: cling to the door frame for dear life or rush forward to try to somewhat stop the movements of the cot.
What? No, there was only one choice to him. He’s already slipping forward, trying not to fall himself as his hands lurch forward. He latches onto one of the bedposts, digging his heels into the floorboards. You cling to the sheets, letting out a sigh of relief once the movements of the world come to a stop.
“Thanks.” You say softly, grip relaxing on the bed. You don’t have any control over it, so the only thing you can do every time it goes sliding is cling to dear life.
He gives his own quiet breath, shoulders slumping as he comes to sit down on the edge of the bed. He turns his body to mostly face you, giving a weary smile. “Of course. That could have been bad.”
Yeah, bad. Like the new bruises he sees on you. It’s not that he had already memorized which injuries you had gotten from the cyclops or anything. He just knew what wasn’t there when he was with you twelve hours ago. There’s a new one forming around the base of your jaw, spreading up to your ear.
“I gave you one order; stay in bed and not get hurt. Just how many times have you fallen?” He grumbles, lips twitching into a frown. His hand flicks upwards, moving to gently grasp your chin. You blink, letting him slightly turn your face to the side. As usual, his hand is warm.
You swallow, feeling his hand follow the movement. “Not too many. I think.”
He gives a begrudging hum, eyes moving from the forming bruise to the bandage on your head. His frown doesn’t leave, but he lets his hand drop as his gaze turns to your eyes. “You need to be careful.”
That causes a small laugh from you, brows raising. “Now, believe it or not, I can’t control the giant storm going on out there.”
Rolling his eyes, he moves his hand to pet Kolonam. The other rests at his side, holding on to the edge of the bed. The waves have not stopped in their relentless attacks, but at least, there’s a small interlude in the worst of them. The pattern has slightly been revealed in the past three days of the storm; the crew will be lulled into what’s close to a sense of peace with the not-as-strong waves, only to then be bashed with waves at a much more brutal pace and strength. Those ones would continue for possibly two hours, then die down a little.
And so forth.
Odysseus had come down near the end of one of those sprees because he had been the first to notice the pattern. That was usually when he tried to come visit you, though sometimes, he has to stay above-deck. Hence the not-being-down-with-you for about twelve hours.
“If you could, I would be quite agitated towards you.” He responds, scratching behind the ear of the white-furred (not) lotus eater.
You grin, leaning back a little. You’re in a half-sitting up, half-laying down position. Laying down would be too disadvantageous during the rapid movements of the ship, and it would be a pain to then try to sit up. And standing or bending your legs, well, one of them is still quite unable to move. You’re still not sure where Odysseus got the stick from. You had been told you all had been well away from land within minutes of him rushing you to the medroom. Maybe it was somewhere in the storage, for whatever reason. Not that you’re complaining, though. It makes the healing process much easier.
“Trust me, if I could, we would not be having a storm right now.” That’s definitely true. If it had been up to you, you would have changed the tides to be in the crew’s favor. The clouds would be gone, the sun would be shining, the waves would be flat. Home would come a lot faster.
You had stayed joking during that sentence, but the sincerity still rang clear in the room. Both of you just wanted to go home. You just wanted to go to Penelope and Telemachus. Most of all, you just wanted Odysseus to get back to them.
For a moment, silence reigns; Odysseus’ gaze on you. His brows slightly tug down, expression softening. He knows you mean it. He knows that you would do almost anything to make sure that he made it home.
He just needs to make sure that you do, too. The palace would be too empty without you, even with Penelope and Telemachus (and Argos). You were his best friend. He’d known you almost all his life, and he wasn’t even sure what it would be like if you weren’t beside him and Penelope. You may as well have been his sister.
Uh, wait. He’s not too sure how Ctimene would feel if she was replaced with you. Not that his sister could ever be replaced. Yeah, so maybe you weren’t exactly a sister.
But you were family. It didn’t matter how so–you were someone he wasn’t willing to lose.
He sighed, ending the quiet. “I’ve given instructions to tread where the tide is flat. That’s probably our only real chance of survival, right now. Even then, it’s…not looking too good. The other ships seem to be fairing even worse than ours. Entimeus and some of the others are less than hopeful.”
‘Some of the others’. Him included. It’s easy to tell.
This is where you butt in. It’s basically your job to be the positive one, even if your thoughts and worries echo his own. “Our ships have endured a lot. I doubt they’ll cave now. We only have about two weeks left, three at the max if the storm hinders us that much. We’ll make it.”
Your words help soothe him a little, but not entirely. Not that either of you expected them to. Both of you are rational (and, admittedly, secretly pessimistic, though in different ways) people. The storm was strong, and while it most certainly wasn’t going to last two weeks, it very well could capsize the ships before it ended. It seems strong enough to be able to do so.
Neither of you feel the need to voice those thoughts. You both know what the other is thinking with the storm, and speaking the fears and worries will just make spirits worse.
So once more, the two of you sit in silence. The only sounds are your breathing and the purring of Kolonam (and Ethan, who moved to sit on Odysseus’ leg). The room rocks, but doesn’t jolt as much.
Eventually, you speak again, one hand still stroking Kolonam’s fur. “You should probably go back up there. The crew is gonna need you at all times.”
You’re right. He knows you are. Still, he’s reluctant to leave. He always is. This has become nearly routine for the two of you. He’d almost be worried you were getting tired of his presence if not for the way you smile every time you see him. He knows your smiles. And that’s your happy smile.
(He’s glad that he’s one of the reasons for a genuine smile from you.)
Right now, your smile is both happy and reluctant. Because of course you want him to stay. How could you not?
But you know that the crew comes first. His jobs come first. Just as they always need to, no matter how different the both of you wish that could be.
“Alright. I’ll be back as soon as I can be.” He says, frowning. Just as he stands, the room lurches once more, and he tries not to tumble to the floor. You let out a sound of concern as he stumbles, eventually managing to make it to the wall.
“Don’t die, please.” You say it as another joke, but you’re also serious. At this point, you’re not sure anywhere is safe for either of you. He could probably be accidentally swept overboard or something.
He gives a grunt in response, one hand remaining on the wall as he walks back to the still open door. It swings on its hinges, constantly being thrown around by the rocking of the boat. “And try not to fall anymore, okay?” He says, looking back at you. Another smile from the both of you and a nod towards him, and then he has to leave the room.
He really hopes the storm dies down soon. It needs to.
-
-
“Have you seen Perimedes?” Elpenor asks over the roaring wind, one hand cupped to his mouth to amplify the question. His dark mahogany and brown hair flies wildly, the ruffled mess even worse. Of course, that’s not where his focus is. Currently, his brows are furrowed in worry, and his lips are set in a fretful frown. “I’m genuinely worried that he could’ve gotten knocked overboard.”
Entimeus grunts, one hand keeping a firm grasp on the ring threaded through the rope. With how strong the winds are, he couldn’t risk the string snapping. He couldn’t risk losing the ring.
With narrowed eyes, he shrugs, using his other hand to push his hair out of his eyes. “I heard he was gonna go try to row.”
Most of his words get tossed to the wind, but Elpenor is close enough to understand. He nods, backing away. Just like that, Entimeus is alone near the crates, staring up at the sky. There seems to be no rest from the waves. It’s been four days of this mess.
At this rate, he wouldn’t mind if the ship capsized. He wasn’t sure how confident The Captain was in his ship, but no matter how strong a boat may be or how clever the Captain, nature is stronger. Everyone was rowing at their best, or doing their best to somehow help around the ship. But it wasn’t working. The ocean was its own living creature at this point, and they were nothing but worms in its grasp.
He blinks, water continuing to run down his cheeks. When had he become so cynical? He used to smile a lot. He used to be hopeful.
Now he doesn’t have much reason to hope. He doesn’t have much reason to wish for the fleet to survive. Because unlike his captain, his reason was gone. He didn’t have his person to smile for anymore. There was no reason to smile anymore. If the waves overcame them, he’d probably be happier.
So, hopefully, he’ll be happy soon. Because there was almost no chance of surviving this storm.
-
-
“Shut your face or I’ll shut it for you!”
Found him. Elpenor would almost sigh from annoyance if it weren’t for the relief that took hold first. Perimedes is a short person, and leaner than most. Add that on to the fact that Elpenor is a worry-wart, and, well, his fears of Perimedes getting swept away felt too close to being real.
Still, it’s not exactly the best to find one’s best friend by hearing them yelling threats. Though, that’s usually how he finds Perimedes, he has to admit. It’s one of his main qualities.
He hadn’t expected to find him down here, though. He’s near the medical room, looking at something Elpenor can’t see.
…is he…yelling to the wall? No, to something in his hands?
Oh no, did Perimedes somehow get more, uh–more lotus? But wasn’t that stuff supposed to make him happier?
Either way, Elpenor quickly moves to the scene, speaking. “Perimedes, there you are.”
His voice makes the shorter one jump, whipping his head back to look at Elpenor. Of course, Perimedes knew it was him, so he doesn't narrow his eyes into a complete glare. However, his ears flush a bright red, eyes widening.
Now that’s odd.
“Elpenor, this stupid thing is being stupid!” Perimedes completely turns, holding out his hands for his acquaintance (because Perimedes doesn’t do friends. Those are also stupid things.) to see.
The taller one blinks again, tilting his head.
…
“...Perimedes, that thing has a name. And last I checked, she belongs to Third in Command.”
The gray lotus eater in his friend’s palms chirps in agreement, blinking up at Elpenor. She seems to mock his movements, or perhaps just imitate them. Her head tilts, ears twitching left and right.
This results in a small laugh from Elpenor. He steps closer, reaching a hand out to scratch her under the chin. His gaze moves from Zoe to Perimedes again, the other man huffing and rolling his eyes. Despite that, Perimedes doesn’t move his hands, letting Elpenor continue to pet the critter.
“...Also, I don’t think she can talk.” Elpenor says to Perimedes, lips raised in an amused smile.
That is what makes the red on the other’s ears flare again. He scowls, yanking his arms back and raising Zoe up higher. She just makes a confused sound, looking down as his arms slightly sway with the rocking of the boat. “It’s still being stupid! It’s been mocking me!”
…
Elpenor coughs, turning his head to the side so that Perimedes won’t see the smile on his face. The cough is enough to cover up the small laugh he couldn’t stop.
Not that he was laughing at Perimedes. He would never.
After a couple moments more of silence–one from an amused Elpenor and an irritated (and embarrassed) Perimedes, the former of the two steps forward. “Alright, now. That’s enough with the lotus eater.” He reaches his hands, easily grabbing her from Perimedes’ grasp. The other doesn’t argue, but he huffs as she climbs up Elpenor’s arm. “She’s probably looking for Third.”
“Well, he’s not here.” Perimedes said in reply, crossing his arms. “And I wasn’t gonna kidnap her or something. I wanted to know where she was going, but nooo, she just kept on mocking me.”
Elpenor quirks a brow, eyes moving from the gray-furred animal to Perimedes, who is now tightening the band around his hair. His small ponytail had been constantly ruined by the storm above-deck, so at least there’s no wind trying to attack it there. However, that didn’t mean that the ship wasn’t still moving around like crazy.
“Perimedes, now, I’m being sincere when I ask this,” He tries to hide the hints of laughter in his voice. “...but are you, um…did you sneak some lotus,” (or moly) “onto the ship?”
There’s a sharp gasp of offense from Perimedes, green eyes narrowing. He straightens, expression turning betrayed. “You think I’m h–!”
The floor seems to move out from under both of them, moving forward. It cuts Perimedes off as he lets out an undignified screech, trying not to crash into the ground. Elpenor doesn’t do much better, though he’s able to keep his sounds of surprise to himself. He stumbles, feet tripping over each other as his hand reaches for Perimedes’ shoulder.
He grasps it, helping steady his friend after he’s found himself leaning on the wall of the hall. “...You okay?”
“Yeah.” Perimedes says shortly, gently grabbing the hand placed on his shoulder. After a moment, he lifts it, removing it. “I’m not that breakable.”
Elpenor nods, letting his hand fall back to his side. The lotus eater on his shoulder chitters, scampering down the arm. Before he can do anything, she’s jumped off his hand, landing on all fours on the ground. Her movements are quick, and they lead her to the closed door of the medical room.
He watches, brows furrowing. She looks back up at him, pawing at the wood.
After a moment, he sighs, closing the distance. “Okay, okay.” He puts one hand on the door knob, pulling it open. His gaze travels from the lotus eater to scan the room. “Not sure why you would want…”
He fades off, eyes landing on you.
You, who’s, what a surprise, on the floor.
And what do you do?
Oh, you grin brightly, trying to scramble to your feet. “Elpenor! I haven’t seen you in a bit!”
He’s kind of just stuck there, staring at you with wide eyes as one of your hands clutches at the wooden crate to your side. The other hand remains pressed against your torso, most likely where you were still injured.
He should stop you from moving. You were badly injured, right? So, wait, why isn’t he doing anything?
Maybe it’s just a bit of a shock. He hadn’t expected you to be in this room. Or on the floor. Besides, you were like a sister to him–it had been a while since he saw you. The last time he did, it was a glimpse of blood dripping down your pale face as The Captain had rushed down stairs.
He supposed it made sense.
Either way, he just stares wide-eyed at you. He really should stop you from moving.
“ What are you doing, you idiot??” At least Perimedes knows how to take initiative, because he’s rushing into the room. Giving his signature scowl, he grabs you by the non-bandaged shoulder. It forces you to stop in your movements, and he (gently) pushes you back to the floor. “You’re f–” the gray-furred lotus eater chirps, climbing up the bedpost to get to the other two animals. “--injured! You can’t be moving around like that!”
Now that Perimedes is yelling at something again, Elpenor finds himself walking towards you. He crouches on the ground, getting to your height. Your bright [e/c] eyes meet his brown ones, and he finds himself smiling at you.
You grin right back, still nodding to Perimedes’ loud scolding.
“Need some help?” He asks, voice quiet compared to the other (who is now making wild gesticulations. One of his hands points at you, the other laid flat as he continues to rant).
“I could use some.” You say cheerfully, shrugging your good shoulder.
He chuckles softly, looping one arm around your back. Slowly, he helps you stand to your feet. Perimedes begrudgingly helps as well, letting you lean on the both of them. It’s only a meter or so from the cot, but with one of your legs being unable to move, it takes a bit. Eventually, you’re (once again, gently) dumped on the cot, taking a seat at the edge.
One of your hands now curls around the edge, fingers digging into the sheets. The other reaches to the side, gently patting Kolonam’s head. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“I only did it because; A: Elpenor does too much work, and B: you’re an idiot.”
“It’s good to see you too, Perimedes.”
-
-
Entimeus trails after Eurylochus, speaking in a hushed voice. “Sir, with all due respect, surely you don’t think we’ll survive this? The storm has been going on for five days and looks like it will have no rest. How are you and the captain so confident?”
The darker-skinned man sighs, turning to face the crewman. Rain continues to pour down on them, feeling like acid against their skin. “Captain Odysseus says we will beat this storm. And we will.”
Frustration bubbles up in Entimeus. He doesn’t care if he doesn’t survive, he really doesn’t. He’d much rather die. But he had remembered that some others did deserve to still live. He’d caught sight of Perimedes and Elpenor just hours ago, trying to help fix the mast.
They deserved to live.
And with what the storm was doing, nothing could survive. Not with the captain ordering full speed ahead.
He takes another step forward, grabbing Eurylochus’ bicep. “At this rate we won’t make it out alive!”
His words and actions make Eurylochus take pause. His green eyes meet Entimeus’ gaze.
(Green. Why is it always green?)
“…have faith.” The hesitation in the Second in Command’s voice is easy to hear. After all, Entimeus did have a point. The boats weren’t going to survive much longer. With each wave that splashed against it, wooden splinters flew on deck. The ship was slowly being torn apart, and home isn’t due for at least another eleven days.
“Faith that we’ll drown ?” Entimeus scoffs in return, letting go of Eurylochus’ arm. “This fleet is going to sink. We’re going to be swallowed by these waves and the rain.”
The pounding of footsteps behind the two cuts off a response from Eurylochus. They both turn to look, watching as an over-excited Polites slips into view. Literally. His boots scrabble for traction on the slick wood as he grins, rushing towards them. Zoe clings to the side of his neck, though, her expression doesn’t look terrified. Maybe. It’s hard to tell with her being a lotus eater and in the rain.
His hand flies to grab Eurylochus, pulling him along without a warning. “We’re gonna be fine!” He shouts over the wind, ignoring the surprised protests from the taller one as he drags him towards the front of the boat.
Of course, Entimeus follows, curiosity piqued. And his conversation with Eurylochus hadn’t exactly been over.
“Captain, look! ” Polites exclaims, coming to a stop with a still confused Eurylochus. He points to the sky, looking up with a beaming expression. “Elpenor and Perimedes showed it to me.”
Odysseus’ gaze–which had been one of amusement mixed with his own curiosity at the excitement, follows the Third in Command’s finger.
Eurylochus takes a sharp breath, finding it hard to believe what he’s seeing. There, below the clouds, so close it looks like he could just touch it–
“An island in the sky.” Odysseus whispers, awe tinging his voice. The storm seems to completely avoid the floating land, leaving it calm and basking in sunlight. Roots from the trees jut out of the dirt, which miraculously stays attached to the land. It’s literally defying everything about the situation.
Which only makes the gears in his head turn faster.
It’s low. Low enough that it’s visible below the clouds, where he can almost see the details. It’s higher than the mast of the ship, but…
It’s low enough .
He doesn’t pull his gaze away from the island seemingly suspended above them, even as the waves continue to splash against the boat. “...Eurylochus, Polites; grab the harpoons, and tell the rest of the crew to. As many as you can find.”
The two nod, still staring at the island themselves.
“...what do you have in mind?” Eurylochus asks, wide eyes focused on the sight. It’s not something anyone sees any day–especially when one usually sees a floating island, it’s… in the water. This clearly was something divine, in some way.
Odysseus’ lips twitch into a slight smirk. After all, most of his ideas sound crazy. “We’re gonna shoot for the sky.”
The Second in Command blinks, turning to look (down) at Odysseus. He doesn’t say anything, but one of his brows raises for a second.
“ What? ” Entimeus isn’t so quiet about his absolute skepticism, just a couple feet away from the main three. His voice comes out as a scoff, disbelieving.
What could his captain possibly have in mind? The island wasn’t going to help them. It’s probably another danger, another obstacle that would try to kill him.
Before he gets to speak more about his dissent with the orders, he’s already being given a harpoon.
(Wait, hadn’t it just been thirty seconds since they were told to get harpoons? Did he zone out again? Were his thoughts that cynical that they were starting to drag him away from reality?)
The weapon and tool feels heavy in his hands, the wood for the handle wet, just like everything else. The rope is coiled, ready to unravel the moment it’s thrown.
“Aim it high!” Odysseus commands, holding his own harpoon. His voice spreads across the ship, and the order reaches the other boats, as well. Someone probably told them, somehow. “We’re shooting for the island in the sky!”
The wind beats down on them as Entimeus takes a deep breath, muscles tensing. Rearing his arm back, he prepares his strength. This was something he could do. Throwing things–especially spears–that was his thing.
The island in the sky. That’s his target.
And then he throws, using as much force as possible. He’d thrown at higher things, he’s sure, but with the wind and rain, lots of strength was necessary. Not to mention the fact that the harpoon needed to get lodged into the island, not just bounce off.
Hundreds of harpoons rise into the sky at the same time, all focused on the island hovering above them. Ropes swing down, the one attached to his harpoon uncoiling within seconds.
And he watches, as water drips into his eyes and down his face. He watches his harpoon sink into the dirt, landing firmly, along with maybe fifty or more others.
Huh. Guess he could still throw well, at least.
Eventually, though, his gaze pulled from the magnificent view, watching as the captain began to secure the ropes. He sighed, grabbing his own rope and walking towards the rail. Looping the rope around, he easily knots it, tugging it to test the strength. He gives a satisfied nod, eyes once again finding his captain.
He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly his next part of the plan was. It was probably another ridiculous, dangerous thing. And he…didn’t want more lives to be risked.
So if no one else is gonna go knock some sense into Odysseus’ head, he may as well do it himself.