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katerinaaqu · 4 days

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Survivor's Guilt and Survivor's Duty (P1)

Odysseus was hungry. That much he knew. Gods were really cruel with them the days that went through. He had returned from yet another hunt without any success. Not even a single rabbit was visible to Helios’s island. He was already feeling weary and light-headed with hunger; which was why he thought he was hallucinating when he smelt the finest smell of roasting meat he ever met in his life. However it took him no more than two brain cells of his infamous mind to connect the dots and realize what had happened.

“No! Gods no, let it be not what I think it is! Please gods no!”

His legs grew wings as he began sprinting towards the direction of the smell.

“Why did you lull me to that pointless sleep?! Why! It was all to ruin me? To ruin them?!”

He ran with all the strength of his feet to the field only to find what he hoped in all gods he believed in to be a hallucination. He saw what remained of his men from that eventful 3 year journey having lit a fire and roasting a fine cow to the pike, happy and well-fed. In the past days his men just broke. They could withstand hunger no longer and understandably they had only one source of nutrition on that island; those fat, well-kept cows that seemed to be mocking them. Of course his men would do that! Odysseus could not blame them and yet he pulled his long hair in desperation seeing the scene.

“ARE YOU ALL MENTAL? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MINDS?!” he yelled desperately drawing their attention, “I told you not to do that! These sacred animals will be our doom!”

Eurylochus, his trusted commander came forward. His eyes were full of snare and gathered anger.

“Captain,” he started, “did you expect us to starve to death? Not even one little bird was flying around and all the grass in this place turned poisonous for us! We would die anyways! This time we were doomed either way!”

The loud voice of the furious man was cut off from the sound of flesh striking against flesh and then Eurylochus’s head turned to the side. Odysseus was huffing and puffing; nostrils flattering aflame as he gathered his strong hand back.

“You fools!” he growled tears burning his onyx eyes, “you damned fools! This was a test! A test for our faith and we failed! We failed miserably! Haven’t you learnt anything? Insulting the gods is never a good idea! We should rather die of starvation than this! The gods will show no mercy on us now! We are doomed!”

“You would know of that!” Eurylochus suddenly bellowed beyond himself, “You doomed us all, Odysseus! If you haven’t done that we would be in our country by now! These three years happened because of you!”

This time it was a punch that stroke his cheek, not a slap. Eurylochus fell on the sand but he had no time to breathe for Odysseus grabbed him by the shirt lifting him up to his feet again. The comrades rushed there to grab him (oh they remembered his rage the other time nearly cost Eurylochus his life!) however Odysseus was almost as unmovable as a statue at that point. His face was red with fury.

“I tried to save us all!” he yelled, “Ungrateful bastard, I tried to save us all! I faced the beast that could have eaten us all! After everything I did for you! I-…”

He stopped. He shivered from top to bottom. Eurylochus was right. All had happened because of him. He had insulted Poseidon by blinding his son; he was arrogant enough to brag about it…no, even further back; Troy fell because of him. So many men died because of him. Ten years they fought a brutal war; they had endured the weather, the living conditions, the battles… More than 600 men started and finished the war with barely any loss…and now…less than 3 years out in the sea and… They started 12 ships and now they were one…less than 40 men left in one final ship…and all was initiated because of him…he could not deny it. He found no words to defend himself. Gradually he let go of Eurylochus, who wiped the blood off his lip with his fist. He noticed his men had gathered around to separate them from each other but it didn’t seem necessary anymore. The comrades had let him go, noticing he was almost limb in their arms. His onyx eyes were bottomless. No, it shouldn’t end like that! He had committed hubris to save his men and he doomed them, he had forced himself to bed a woman for one year after gods requested to rectify it and yet here they were again. None of the sacrifices seemed to be enough to wash that sin away. No, he couldn’t let them die like that! He had to try! He had promised he would repent! He had to save them before that happened!

“Gather up your stuff, men!” he ordered, eyes still shadowed by his hair, “We must go as soon as possible!”

“Go?” Polites asked, “Go where?”

“At ANY land!” Odysseus whispered, “Anywhere but here! We must offer a sacrifice of some kind! We must wash away this hubris!”

As he turned his back at them –oh he couldn’t face them now!- Eurylochus stood up and looked at him with eyes resembling knives.

“Should we take the rest of the meat too…Captain?” that word was almost spat like an insult, “Or shall we hope Poseidon will grace us with a meal?”

Odysseus winced. Eurylochus; his brave and loyal friend; the type of person that sure, didn’t tell him always nice things but he was always honest with him and always told him some things that needed to be said; now he seemed gone; All their adventures and torments had hardened him, killing his old comrade and giving him in his place a bitter, hateful man who could understand no longer the difference between insolence, disrespect and honesty or couldn’t care less to tell them apart. Odysseus couldn’t blame him but at that moment he found his transformation disturbing and concerning. He glared daggers at him. The mention of the meat of the slain animals made even his mouth water. He was hungry too. They wouldn’t survive without food and yes, Poseidon sure wouldn’t allow them to fill their bellies with his fish given the situation and the sea birds even if they graced them with their presence, which he doubted, were inedible and poisonous. Gods forgive me, he thought, but I am just a man!

“Damn you!” he cursed under his husky breath, “Take what you wish! If we survive this, pray to all gods that I will forget this because by all gods one day I’m gonna kill you!”

He could hardly remember the process but he knew they were on their way again; so fast and so hastily inside their last black ship in the openness of the Mediterranean Sea. If it was in his hand, Odysseus would have stayed close to the shore but of course gods were cruel for yet another time as Helios’s magnificent isle lay in the middle of open sea. He had no choice but to head for the sea and hope for the best. He knew there were lands close by; if they could reach them… For six days the trip was uneventful and his comrades had as provisions the meat from the slain animals to feast upon. Even Odysseus had to admit he had tasted the magnificent flesh of the animals, for he could withstand hunger no more. However six days of such a trip and he was always expecting the worst, which never seemed to be coming. His nerves just broke. It was the seventh day of their journey; still no sight of any land and still he hadn’t spoken a word. He was staring at the endless blue of the wine-dark sea and he didn’t speak a word. He could sense his comrades’ tension in the air; he could almost cut it with a knife! And yet, Odysseus could not focus on that. Polites looked up from the deck towards him and then towards Eurylochus who still had his cheek swollen.

“He’s so lost in thought…” Polites commented

“He should be!” Eurylochus replied bitterly, “He might be our king but sometimes he has a lot of nerve to talk to us that way! It was HIS hubris that brought us to this position!”

“Now that is both unfair and blasphemous to our king!” Polites replied

“He is no god for me to perform blasphemy!” Eurylochus replied as a matter of fact

Polites sighed.

“We have our own share of responsibility, you know! If we hadn’t opened that damned sack we might have reached home as well!”

Eurylochus winced at the reminder of Aiolus sack. Yes, that truly was their mistake. They got overcome by greed and distrust.

“And, besides, what Odysseus said is true. You and I were never there. We didn’t experience the week of seclusion in that hole. Perhaps we would have done the same…”

Eurylochus sighed defeated.

“Yeah…perhaps you’re right. And he DID spend a year entertaining Circe till our comrades healed… However…” his face darkened a bit, “I still cannot shake it off, Polites! It is majorly his fault we ended up like this! And he DID keep secrets from us. Or have you forgotten how he kept his mouth shut about Skylla? Six of our comrades dead…and we didn’t even know what was coming…”

“He wanted to spare us…”

“Yeah I am sure he suffered, alright, but we still had the right to know! Perhaps we could have come up with a plan together. Perhaps we could have fought back!”

“Fight back an immortal six-headed dragon? I am not sure how that would have worked but…even if you are right and he should have told us, that doesn’t change the fact that he is here with us now. If he wanted he could have stayed with the witch, Circe and sent us off and we would have no directions and no warnings.”

“He didn’t do that for us, Polites”

“Not entirely, I agree, but wouldn’t be fair to say that he did it for us as well?”

Eurylochus sighed.

“Fine, but seriously it was such a long trip and even longer way… I just want to go home!”

“We all do…” Polites whispered concerned.

Yes, ten years of war plus three years of wandering and danger…more than five hundred good men dead… Everyone could understand the feeling.

“I agree with Eurylochus, though…” said another man, “It was all a big mess that initiated when Odysseus insulted Lord Poseidon. I had warned him that day! I said, stop provoking him! He didn’t listen… We are all paying the price now…”

Polites sighed. Yes, he couldn’t deny that but still it seemed rather unfair to say it was just Odysseus’s fault. If anything, Odysseus was sacrificing many things along the way to protect and save them. He shivered in disgust remembering that he was told he had turned into a swine because he entered Circe’s palace. He felt grateful to Odysseus for rescuing him from such a fate. And yet… He still couldn’t shake that ominous feeling that something would happen and Odysseus’s silence wouldn’t help. Not bearing it any longer he slowly approached Odysseus. He didn’t acknowledge his presence. The silence was deafening. Only the cricking of the ship and the sound of the waves could be heard. There was no land at sight anywhere. It was quiet…WAY too quiet…

“Odysseus…” Polites started, “we…”

“Sh!” Odysseus harshly shushed him

“Please, I have to say it…” Polites insisted, “We were starving we made a mistake but-…”

“Quiet!” came yet another whisper

Polites gulped soundly, opening and closing his fist nervously.

“Odysseus…” he started, “Have we ruined everything…?”

Odysseus looked at him and he seemed ready to reply but then he raised his head sharply towards the sail and then to the ripples of the waves. All color left his face.

“Odysseus…? What is it…?”

“That is Eastern Wind…” Odysseus whispered almost in a panic, “That is Zephyr that is blowing at us! That’s not normal! Not at this time of year!”

He almost jumped from his standing point, suddenly seen afraid maybe for the first time in a long time if not ever in his life before.

“MEN! PREPARE YOURSELVES! STORM MIGHT BE COMING!”

His comrades didn’t have enough time to question if he lost it or not (given the clear skies around them) because in a few minutes the weather changed so drastically and rapidly that people could only suspect a god was causing it. Black clouds filled the sky in a matter of a few minutes and then suddenly the distant sound of a thunder was heard.

“No…” Odysseus whispered, “No…please, lord Zeus no! Forgive us…please!”

Strong winds raised as a matter of seconds and suddenly the deep blue sea turned into a full-fledged storm. The waves rose in angry white foam and the skies were black like coal with flashes of lightning and thunder. Rain followed that was cold and whipping their faces like needles. The men cried out in fear.

“EURYLOCHUS!” Odysseus bellowed on top of his lungs, “SECURE THE SAIL!”

“SECURE THE SAILS!” Eurylochus transferred the order, “ALL HANDS ON DECK!”

The panic galore was not allowing the orders to properly pass however the soul of the sailor cannot be abided by panic! All hands on deck began to work frantically; they commenced running up and down grabbing the chords and the lines, some of them already climbing to the mast to secure the sail. However it seemed the rage of gods was stronger than the determination of men and their burning wish for survival. A strong current of wind torn the sail to peaces sending quite a few falling on the deck.

“LEAVE IT!” Odysseus yelled as a strong wave splashed over him, “BEFORE THE WIND! HOLD ON TIGHTLY MEN!”

As the ship was played around on the waves like a toy, the terrified warriors and tired sailors would be desperately trying to use the rows to turn the ship; do something, ANYTHING to prevent themselves from crushing on the waves. The sail was now torn to shreds; like the cape of a dethroned king, aimlessly whipping against the mast at the strong wind.

“BEFORE THE WIND!” Odysseus kept screaming over the wind, grabbing the line of the sail in a desperate attempt to keep the material from hitting anyone on deck, “ROW MEN! ROW!”

The ship was being pushed mercilessly upon the waves; creaking and moaning against the wind. Three pairs of rows snapped like twigs leaving the ship spinning aimlessly to the winds. The black ship began to tear apart as cracks and gushes appeared to the sides. The deck started taking water both from below and above from the waves.

“SHE’S TAKING WATER!” one of the sailors cried

“REPAIR THE DAMAGES!” Odysseus cried out in desperation running as he was already ankle-deep in water, “WE MUST KEEP HER AFLOAT!”

It was a pointless order and he knew it. No matter how many times they stuffed torn pieces of the sail in the holes it would be pointless. They were already soaked to the bone, they had no way of lighting fire or softening the wax to fix anything. They were just trying to delay the inevitable and they were failing miserably.

“Lord Zeus…father of all mankind and gods please forgive us!” Odysseus prayed again, “Please, we shall repent! Give us a chance! Poseidon! Oh, Poseidon, please give me a chance!”

The disturbing creaking of wood being slowly broken didn’t need much for Odysseus to understand.

“WATCH OUT!” he cried out

Both the fore-stays of the mast snapped like twigs. The mast began to fall in a disturbing creak and collapsed to the stern. The pilot did not have time but to look up at his upcoming doom as the mast crushed him. Even above the tempest the men heard the disturbing sound of bones breaking as his head was crushed and blood splattered upon the stern. The body fell into the black sea, lifeless and soulless. At the sight of that death there was panic galore. No one heard the orders Odysseus was screaming; no one had any mind but to run up and down aimlessly like ants that were seeing their colony collapse. All they could do was scream their upcoming doom. In a foolish hope or rather a crazy need to survive, Odysseus rushed to the half-broken stern, grabbing the remains of the steer; his hands being died with the blood of the pilot.

“No! No! NO!”

He used all the strength of his mighty hands to do something…ANYTHING to steer the ship away the storm. His hands began bleeding out of the effort upon the splints of the destroyed wood.

“Gods no! Not again! No! No!”

The waves were raising the ship to the heaven and dropping it back down like a walnut shell as people were holding for dear life at the remains of their already tearing apart ship. The steer snapped in the hands of Odysseus and fell into the black sea never to be seen again.

“PREPARE FOR IMPACT!” Odysseus cried out, “HOLD ON!”

Therewith the worst came; a thunderbolt stroke the ship and the sudden flash and tremendous sound left them all blind and deaf. Odysseus screamed in pain shielding his ears. The ship cracked from side to side down in the middle; splintering in the winds like it was a pile of leaves. Ears buzzing and his nose filled with smoke from the fiery fire that lit upon the sad remains of the deck, Odysseus staggered to his feet, struggling to get two steps straight, trying to see through the sulphurous smoke (the only thing he could see was his comrades or what was left of them staggering on the ruins of their ship like drunk) when the last tidal wave came to finish the job. The wave must have been as tall as the remains of the ship as it flooded with tremendous force on the deck sweeping everything…and everyone! Odysseus got violently banged against the hull but he watched in terror through his cloudy from water eyes his comrades falling into the water screaming aimlessly for it was the only thing they could do.

“NOOOOOO!” Odysseus could only cry out as he ran to the rim

He watched the bodies of his men almost like small white dots to the absolute blackness; already almost a mile away, sometimes disappearing under the waves at the force of the tempest. Odysseus nearly lost the remains of his wits as he ran about the ship trying to find literally ANYTHING he could use. Another surge torn apart parts of the keel and the mast snapped from it. Odysseus reacted almost automatically as he rushed to the broken ropes and parts of the keel and mast. His hands and thick fingers began working frantically, almost completely unconsciously as water was hurting his eyes and rain was feeling as if piercing his flesh. All his Being was screaming for him to save himself; to survive! However that tiny part of his brain was tingling to him; maybe there are some men who are still alive! Maybe there is time!

“Please Athena! Please Athena…let me save them! It can’t be too late!” he was mumbling as he was securing the ropes so that the two pieces of wood would tie together, “Please, Pallas please! Let me save just one! Please! Let me return home just one! Please! Please! It can’t be too late! I can’t lose them all!”

Yet another thunder from the skies made him jump and then the remains of his favorite ship were torn apart! Odysseus grabbed upon his last raft of salvation. He jumped into the merciless ocean, rowing frantically with his hand towards the direction he saw his men disappear.

“EURYLOCHUS!” he cried out over the waves, “POLITES! ANYONE! ANSWER ME!”

The only answer he got was thunder and wind. The waves were tall like mountains!

“POLITES!” he called out again

Tears filled his eyes as his voice broke.

“SOMEONE!...P-Please! Anyone! Anyone…!”

There was nothing on site…just waves and storm.

“No…” Odysseus cried, “NOOOOOOOO!!!”

Realization was crueler than what he would expect…there was no one…just himself! He cried…he cried loudly as he never cried before.

“NOOO! WHY! WHY! WHY!” he yelled over the waves, “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN-…”

His mind and wits nearly escaped him. He remembered that day before their sail for Troy…there were more than six hundred men…waiting for their dangerous trip…

Odysseus was standing before his men; the future fleet that was ready for this uncertain trip. Odysseus, dressed in his fine clothes, his long hair neatly brushed and beard trimmed, was looking at them seriously.

“We are heading for a dangerous trip, my men…” he said, “The road is long and we have no idea how long it will take for us to finish with the holy castle of Troy… If we result in war…there is no guarantee it will end soon…”

His onyx eyes stared deeply within countless others of pairs.

“I cannot lie to you, men…I cannot promise you that we shall all return home safely”

He drew a deep breath.

“However I promise you this; I shall do ANYTHING within my power so we can return home safely! I won’t disappoint you!”

Back to the present Odysseus cried. He weakly hit his fist upon the mast.

“No…” he sobbed, “I won’t disappoint you…!”

Six hundred men…they were all gone…disappeared… He began hyperventilating. No, it couldn’t be true!

“No…No, Athena! No Athena!” he cried trying to fist the water beneath him as if it were sand, “No, Pallas…! No… No, my men…! NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOO!”

He yelled till his throat was sore…till his voice was gone…he sobbed and cried tears almost as plenty as the waves of the sea. The storm was roaming around him… There was no one there to hear his lament… His voice was carried around by the wind…his tears were washed away by sea and rain…His body was borne by the direful winds…

Six hundred men had started that fateful journey…

Now there was only one…

Now he was alone.

The tempest began slowly to subside and the eastern wind gave his place to a breeze from the south. Odysseus was hanging helplessly upon his supposed raft. The nightly fight with the waves had exhausted him and his tears had long now dried out like the salt in his curly hair. His head was already dropping in fatigue when something made him look up. His eyes widened in terror.

“No…” he whispered

He recognized the location. In his pure terror he recognized the narrow path of Skylla and Charybdis; the passage he had struggled so much to get his men out of; the passage that cost the life of six of his comrades. What was worse…he heard an unworldly moan from deep down the sea. His feet felt the low frequency vibration…and then there was a whirlpool. Charybdis had awakened!

“No!” Odysseus cried out, “No, gods, no!”

The merciless current and the frightening groaning from deep down the sea started drawing him. Odysseus at the edge of his wit began frantically rowing with his hand; desperate in his fear to get away from the deathly current that would suck anything to its path! At that moment he remembered Circe’s warnings;

“You must not be there when she sucks it down; for no one could save you from the ruin not even the Earthshaker himself…”

“I HAVE TO TRY, CIRCE!” Odysseus yelled towards the sky in his panic, “I have to try or else my men’s deaths were for nothing!”

The merciless current though wouldn’t bulge as Odysseus realized in terror his pitiful attempts could never save him from this hellish force. The two pieces of wood that were forming his only salvation were being dragged in the ruthless elix. The water was already foaming when he reached the grotto. In panic he scanned the perimeter. Only then his eyes remembered what his brain had erased in fear; the fig tree! Circe had said there was that fig tree shadowing Charybdis! The massive roots and branches were hanging over him; it was his only hope! With strength only panic and adrenaline could give him, Odysseus pushed himself on top of the last remains of his ship and kicked as hard as he could. He had only one chance. His wounded and red hands grasped for dear life onto the rough branches and thank goodness his fingers closed around them!

“ARGH!” Odysseus cried in pain feeling as though his arms would be uprooted out of his own weight, “GODS!”

His legs helplessly hanging over the abyss were desperately moving trying to find a footing but there was none! His arms didn’t have the strength to pull him up at the tree either so he could only hang and hold for dear life. Odysseus dared to look down and saw in terror the gaping hole sucking in the sea and with it his only safety raft. His wet hands would slip and fall if it weren’t for the sheer determination that held him! He prayed to all gods that he knew and didn’t know that this time, just this time, he would find salvation; that his small raft would be vomited out of that whirlpool otherwise he would be lost… The growling rumble from beneath the watery abyss signaled the begin of the outside movement to what it seemed like an eternity later.

“Please gods…please…please…” he was thinking like a mantra

And then he spotted it! The small brownish outline of his mast and keel. He would have a chance! Fear was biting his stomach as he looked down at the whirlpool vomiting out seawater. He knew he had to act quickly or he would have no hope to swim to his raft in that condition. Charybdis below him seemed ready to swallow him even if she was vomiting out the water. What if she really swallowed him if he let go? What if he would be destroyed by some wave? Odysseus looked and looked and the seconds seemed like eons to his tormented heart that was flattering within his chest. He shut his eyes closed; to not see; to not fear and he made his decision

He let go of the branch.

Gravity claimed his body as he fell to the empty space and within the foaming water. The water was hot; hotter than human body temperature and to the tormented king of Ithaca who was freezing from water that seemed like a boiling cauldron. His ears were filled with the sound of bubbles and the hellish growling of Charybdis. He didn’t dare to look; only he paddled like his life depended on it (and it did!) . The suction force that was pushing him upwards this time was with him. Odysseus felt his lungs burning for air and he nearly breathed in the sea water as he hadn’t got a proper breath before diving in the sea. And he was pushed up and up till he was vomited out of the water and drew a soundly breath. He swam frantically till his raft and grabbed onto it with his wounded hands for dear life coughing salted water; nose and eyes aflame from the salt. He rowed and rowed with his hand almost immediately after he caught some breaths. He turned around towards the OTHER dreadful site.

“If Skylla comes out…I’m lost!” he thought

However the dreadful cave that hosted the monster that claimed the lives of six of his crew remained dark and silent. Nothing came out. Odysseus wasted no time and rowed and paddled like crazy to get as far away as possible from that dreadful area. He didn’t know how far Charybdis or Skylla’s ranges were but he certainly didn’t want to know! That was knowledge that even Odysseus of Ithaca, the Man of many Ways could pass on! After what seemed like a full eternity and when the sun was setting for good at the horizon, Odysseus had covered enough distance to see the grotto from afar. He collapsed onto his mast, drawing raspy breaths till his chest began to hurt. He seemed he had no more strength to move. His hands were full of wounds from the ship and the tree branches and hurt from salted water, his lips were torn from the sea and salt had crusted onto his face and hair. Then Odysseus broke down. He cried silently alone in the middle of the sea; he cried for his men he lost, he cried for his dreams that seemed to becoming fainter and fainter; the dreams to embrace his wife and son and he cried for himself. He had barely any hope to survive. He had no men; sea had claimed them. He had no vessel; the storm had claimed it. He had no food or water; those were gone long time ago. He barely had any clothes on for even those were soaked and already tearing apart from the wind and sea. What was the point to keep going, he thought? What would be the point to struggle? He had slim to no possibilities to escape. He was alone in the open sea without protection in Poseidon’s territory. Any kind of sea creature from the usual sharks till the dangerous creatures he faced so far, could potentially kill him.

“I should have died there!” he thought, “Alas this fate is worse than the death in the ship! This agony! Oh, gods I can’t bear it anymore!”

“You are made to endure, Odysseus…”

That was what his grandfather had told him when he visited him in Parnassus what seemed like an eternity prior; almost in another life. However even the tormented Odysseus had his limits. And now these seemed surpassed. Maybe he should let go; allow the sea to take him and end his torment. Maybe he could meet his family in a few decades in the underworld… Why struggle for the inevitable? And yet a small voice to the back of his head made him think that he could not give up just yet; that he had to keep trying and if the sea would claim him then so let it be written, so let it be done. However he had to try and fulfill the prophecy of Tiresias. He felt like he owned this to the 600 lives that were lost under his command. He looked up at the stars that seemed to have started to form. Yes, he would follow the directions that the night dress of Nyx was pointing at. Finding strength anew, the Man Tormented paddled slowly and steadily away from the dreadful spot…

Odysseus traveled once more; this time alone and grabbing upon the last remains of his beloved black ship… The night came cold and he was shivering. By the morning another storm caught up with him and his mast was once more drifted by the huge waves that resembled white top mountains, tearing apart his clothes and his flesh. And yet his hands endured… It was as if his heart and hands combined turned into oak or stones. The Man of many Torments endured. Next day the sun was merciless over his head, sending him almost to the brief of hallucinations and heat as sweat was running down his already wounded body. The night the gods felt pity on him and sent a drizzle rain. Odysseus raised his head to the heavens trying to grab as much of the fresh god-sent water as if that would be enough to quench his insatiable thirst and the burning of the salt. Once a passing seaweed came close to him to which Odysseus made some sort of imitation of a meal for himself. How many times he nearly slipped off his life-raft he lost count…how many times he probably actually fainted on it he could no longer remember. And yet, the King of Ithaca endured…in strength that he had no idea he had. It was as if both his body and spirit had decided he had a duty to survive. He survived the agony and pain as well as the anxiety and fear every time something touched his foot beneath the waves or a passing fish would bite his legs. He had long stopped feeling much.

By night before the tenth day of his painful journey he had collapsed. He didn’t feel the sand beneath his body as his raft finally beached at a sandy beach. He didn’t move as some crab or beach beetle walked over his sea-beaten body. By dawn some hints of his consciousness returned. It was only for a brief second that the rays of sun touched his salt-crusted cheek but Odysseus saw or at least he thought he saw a tall slender figure picking something up from the beach many meters away from him (maybe a seashell). The figure turned towards him and walked there.

And then everything turned black…

~~~~~

Ooookay guys this the first part from my Odyssey story! Poor Odysseus loses everything and gets beached in Ogygia.

Rhapsody 12 must be the most intense or one of the most intense of all the Odyssey and honest the way that Homer describes how Odysseus survived had to be kept as it was from my part!

Poor Odysseus must have passed from all the stages of grief at once!

Now I get extremely inspired by music and soundtracks for my stories. For example the Charybdis description was heavily inspired by the amazing Disney soundtrack for the movie "Dinosaur" with the title "The End of Our Island"

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For his eventful journey I was partially inspired by Mozart's "Kyrie" from the Great Mass in C Minor and also the scene from the film "Les Triplettes de Belville" for the battle with the elements especially the storm and all.

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For the sinking itself I was inspired by various soundtracks and pieces of music.

For my story I kinda take the hypothesis that Ogygia was in fact the small island of Gozo in Malta

As the other time I shall tag some of my amazing commentors/rebloggers and friends! (again forgive me if I forget anyone)

@loco-bird @aaronofithaca05 @tunguszka20 @doob-or-something @jarondont @prompted-wordsmith @simugeuge @fangirlofallthefanthings @ilov3b00kss0much

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littletrash1027 · 1 year

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“It should’ve been me...”

Survivor’s Guilt

more from @madychi ‘s au

#febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday27 #whump #survivor's guilt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #tmnt au #au #tmnt oc #oc #tmnt raph 2012 #tmnt raph #casey jones #tmnt 2012 casey jones #didnt get to yesterday's prompt cause computer bugged out #and i dont have time to do another #anyways nephew died and died to save Raph

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piersontheperson · 1 year

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trauma and survivor’s guilt can be a real bastard

#survivor's guilt #oshi no ko #aqua hoshino #ai #ai hoshino #gorou amemiya #manga

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weirdstrangeandawful · 5 months

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TW: suicide, trauma, survivors guilt

I feel like suicide attempt trauma is an underused concept in whump. I get it's dark but so many other things are too?

Give me more whumpees who tried to escape through death only to be haunted by that attempt after they make a proper escape.

Whumpees with survivors guilt after losing their friends but surviving their own attempt.

Whumpees who don't tell anyone about their trauma because they survived, didn't they?

#whump #whump prompt #suicide #attempted suicide #trauma #survivor's guilt

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wangxianficrecs · 1 year

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💙do not envy the roots that hold you down by eccentrick

💙 do not envy the roots that hold you down

by eccentrick

T, 12k, WQ-centric, Wangxian

Summary: Wen Qing, now known as Lan Ming, is a stoic child but never sulky. She's praised for her obedience and intelligence that far exceeds any of her peers. She's diligent and can already speak in full, clear sentences. Her mother—a distant cousin of Hanguang Jun himself—finds her own child eerie. When she falls, and red bleeds through the knees of her white robes, she doesn't cry. She simply stands and brushes herself off, then walks purposefully to the clinic. Lan Ming—or as she will always refer to herself, Wen Qing—will correct the healers as they gently cleanse her wound, as there is a much more effective disinfectant they can use. Reincarnated as a Lan, Wen Qing lives as best she can with the knowledge—and pain—of her past life. The balance she finds is disrupted when an unfamiliar face hides a not-so-unfamiliar heart.

Mojo's comments: Oh, what a fabulous premise, and so very well done. All WQ's POV, from the moments after her brutal death to her rebirth. She grows up a strange, remote child… because she remembers everything, and can only grieve what she's lost. But gradually she finds a place, making friends with her cousin (now older than her!) and becoming one of Hanguang Jun's ducklings. I could read, like, 30k more of this. I just love the concept so much!

Kay's comments: Absolutely adored this story of Wen Qing being reborn into the Lan Sect while keeping her memories! Even as an infant she is aware who she is and hates it. She is a weird child, that's for sure! Which keeps getting her compared to Hanguang-Jun! And I love how she deals with the fact that she has a mother now and a new identity, while she continues to be Wen Qing to herself and now she's living amongst the people who killed her family. It's heart-wrenching and I live for it.

Excerpt: Wen Qing is aware of the effect she has on people. She knows she should play-act as a child and take advantage of another chance at childhood. She was never a good actor, and especially not now that she doesn't want to. Wen Qing wants to continue being Wen Qing. Solemn as she is, she is never punished for it. In fact, she's praised for being such a good role model for her peers, who still drool and cry and whine. No wonder Wei Wuxian's boytoy—her cousin, now—is such a stick in the mud. Soon, she's compared to the boytoy himself. "Have you ever seen a child as well behaved since Hanguang Jun? Ming is following in his footsteps, it must be the name," her grandmother says, sipping at her tea.

canon-divergence, pov wen qing, reincarnation, reunions, grief/mourning, trauma, rebirth, soul-searching, emotional hurt/comfort, guilt, child wen qing, healing, survivor's guilt, recovery, @ecccentrick

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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callaeidae3 · 7 months

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Whumptober2023 Day 6: "İt should have been me"

Kyle’s almost tempted to wish Yuuki had never rescued him at all. Maybe then none of this would’ve happened.

Don't blame yourself.

İt's an extremely hard thing not to do.

#whumptober2023 #no.6 #it should have been me #kindall k series #OC #art #amputation #bandages #whump aftermath #hurt comfort #recovery #survivor's guilt #whump art #yuuki takahashi #kyle kindall #the case of kindall k #kk1 #traditional art

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clintbartonruinedmylife · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 - Day 6

"It should have been me."

No one had seen him in weeks. Not Fury, not Kate, not the Avengers. No one. It was as if Earth had swallowed Clint Barton.

Bucky was worried. Sure, sometimes Clint disappeared but usually at least one of them knew where they could find him. Or they could contact him on his phone. But not this time.

He was exhausted when he came back from one of his searches. He unlocked the door to his apartment when something felt wrong. Someone was here.

Bucky switched on the light… or at least he tried to because nothing happened after pressing the button. He pressed it a few more times but the result was the same. And then it hit him.

“Clint?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Clint, are you here?”

A sob was everything he heard and he made a few more steps into his apartment. His eyes had adjusted already and he could see the contours of his furniture.

“Clint?” he asked again. Someone was sitting on the ground, their back pressed against the couch and slowly Bucky went over and sat down beside him.

“Hey,” he whispered, barely audible. Clint kept quiet but he pressed his knee against Bucky’s. They sat in silence for a long while.

“It should’ve been me,” he said eventually. Bucky knew what he meant. Of course he knew. He reached out and placed his hand on Clint’s knee.

“Not her, Bucky, not her. It should’ve been me.”

“It was her decision,” Bucky said and licked his lips.

“I lay there and the only thing I could do was watch,” Clint murmured. “I had to watch her die and… and… it’s wrong, it’s so wrong… it should’ve been me!”

Bucky swallowed hard. He knew Natalia before Clint knew her and he knew that she was stubborn like a mule. He also knew it would’ve destroyed him, Bucky, if Clint died on Vormir. And Natalia knew that, too. She wouldn’t’ve let that happen.

“Why, Bucky? Why am I alive and she’s dead?” Clint asked. His head dropped against Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky wrapped his arm around him, pulled him closer. He could feel the wetness from Clint’s tears.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said. ’But I’m thankful she decided for you because I love you and cannot live without you.’ he added in his thoughts.

#whumptober2023 #no.6 #it should have been me #marvel #fic #clint barton #hawkeye #bucky barnes #winter soldier #winterhawk #survivor's guilt

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acciokaidanalenko · 2 months

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Hatboy 🧢

Chapter Three: Hello, Hatboy

Summary: Jeff and Natasha are finally reunited.

TW/CW: Grief/grieving

Relationships: Commander Natasha Shepard & Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Jeff "Joker" Moreau & Karin Chakwas

Rating: Teen and Up

Preview below the cut. AO3 link: here.

Jeff had spent most of his life in space. He was more accustomed to the chill of stations or ships than he was the warmth that came with living planetside. Though he suddenly found himself unable to control the tremors in his hands as he stood on Minuteman Station awaiting the impending return of Commander Shepard and her Cerberus escorts. No one seemed to know the details of what had happened on Lazarus Station, except that only three people had made it to the evac shuttle.

She was awake. She had survived whatever had happened there.

He took a deep breath, crossing his arms and stuffing his hands underneath his armpits in an attempt to control the shaking. He was a storm of competing emotions as the relief of her survival fought against the uncertainty of her return.

The plan that Operative Lawson had concocted had changed. She'd spent weeks drilling questions into him that would help ascertain Natasha's mental state when she awoke. Maybe that was all pointless now. At least they'd shown him the beautiful new ship they'd built for her. His tour had been interrupted with the news of the sudden arrival of the evac shuttle.

He trudged over to the nearest chair, sitting with a heavy sigh as he ran his hands up and down his thighs several times. His gaze kept moving to the door, hoping that someone would come retrieve him soon and release him from this uncertain hell. His hands moved back beneath his arms as he clamped them tightly against his body, only to find himself incapable of stopping his leg's incessant bouncing.

"Oh, this is worse than torture," he said to himself as he clamped his eyes shut and threw his head back. The pounding of his heart reminded him of the climb up the stairs of the SR-1, leaving him breathless and panting with effort though he'd been sitting for several minutes.

The door finally slid open and Jeff's eyes were immediately drawn to the entrance.

"Really, Jeff, if you're this bad just waiting for half an hour, I can't imagine how you'd actually survive being tortured," a familiar voice said from the doorway. Jeff couldn't stop the smile that spread across his lips as her stern expression softened when he met her gaze. "If you can't calm yourself, I'd be more than happy to sedate you."

#jeff joker moreau #commander natasha shepard #the illusive man #karin chakwas #jeff joins cerberus #minuteman station #cerberus #mass effect #mass effect fanfic #survivor's guilt #beloved hatboy #this was a rough one #jeff gets not only one but two reunions in this chapter!

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rachelspoetrycorner · 1 month

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Survivor Guilt (2014) by Ron Padgett

In Episode 310, Rachel shares a poem guilty of being simply too good!

Rachel: The poet James Tate wrote: “Ron Padgett's poems sing with absolutely true pitch, and they are human-friendly. Their search for truths both small and large can be cause for laughter or at least a thoughtful sigh.” Which is exactly the kind of poet that I'm looking typically to bring to Wonderful. You know. Uh, a poet from a human.

Griffin: You did bring that dog poet one time—

Rachel: [laughs]

Griffin: —which I thought was... interesting?

Rachel: Bark... bark, bark, bark. Bark.

Griffin: I carry it in my bark.

I was gonna add a personal comment as usual, until I found this quote by Ron Padgett, that seems to have been made almost specifically for Rachel and Griffin: “Survivor Guilt is not about feeling bad about watching Survivor (the T.V. show). It’s about fickleness (a word we don’t hear much anymore). Plus ça change…”

If you'd like to hear about Ron directly soliciting poems from well-known authors to publish in his literary magazine and succeeding to do so all while still being in highschool, you can do so here: Body Burn, from 5:23 - 12:43

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gooeseyleo · 7 months

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Prev || The Next Morning...

#gooseyleo #save rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #goosey #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #angst #survivor's guilt

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dont-touch-my-soup · 4 months

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Those who share our broken hearts

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CW: A lot of grief, survivor's guilt

A face swam into Jinn’s vision. Eyes green like the sea pierced into him. His vision was blurry. Every breath pinched his lungs and the room didn't stop spinning around him. He curled his legs against his chest like a shield but the dizziness was getting worse with every movement. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to his knees.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said again and again until a hand touched his shoulder. He winced and lifted his head to look at her but her face was still calm as far as he could see.

“It’s okay,” a woman said in a low voice, gently brushing the hair out of his face. “You are safe here.”

The pain slowly ebbed away but Jinn’s insides were still shaking and he was still fighting against the nausea clawing at his stomach. He blinked against the white dots in his vision. The woman waited patiently without moving. Her dark hair was braided and pinned up. It looked like a weird combination of Tharlian and Varsennan hair styles.

“Are you injured?” the woman asked.

The simple question was enough to vault him back to the theatre. Kell’s eyes staring at him with so much panic, his chest heaving in a desperate attempt to survive. There had been so much blood. He hadn’t dared to touch him. And now he’d never touch him again.

Jinns lungs burned and he took in a shuddered breath. Then another. He wasn't sure if it was getting easier or harder. He clawed his trembling hands into the fabric at his legs.

He felt a hand on his head. He winced, but the hand didn’t hurt him. It gently combed through his hair, brushed over his scalp as if it was searching for something. Jinn didn’t move. He was still trying to breathe. Finally the woman’s fingers reached his neck and after a few seconds they let go of him.

Jinn slowly looked up and blinked against the tears in his eyes. The woman was still kneeling right in front of him and there was something in her eyes that looked like concern.

“So you’re Tharlian but you prefer talking in Varsennan?” she asked and only then Jinn realised she had switched languages.

He suddenly felt so small. He dropped his gaze. He couldn’t even speak his own mother tongue.

“I’m sorry," he stammered, tears burning in his eyes. "I promise, I’m leaving right away. I just need to talk to Ariadne Vasara. Is she … Is she here?”

The woman sat back. “You don’t have to leave,” she said slowly. “How about I’ll get you a bath and something to eat until Ariadne wakes up?”

Jinn stared at her, unsure of what to do. “But … are you sure she won’t be angry if you waste food on me?”

Something sharp flashed in her eyes and Jinn froze. His heart sank. He didn’t dare to move.

“We are happy to share everything we have with you,” she said. “Can you stand up on your own?”

Jinn nodded, but his legs felt numb as he pulled himself up. He hoped he wouldn’t stumble and fall. The woman was already waiting when he was finally on his feet. He followed her down the hallway. His shoes shuffled quietly over the woodfloor and left wet prints behind. His feet were so cold. He wanted to apologise, but the woman was faster. “I’m Callie by the way. And who are you?”

Jinn turned around again and tried to catch up with her. It took him a moment to understand the question and find the right answer.

“Jinn,” he said, his voice almost lost in the hallway.

“All right, Jinn. You look like you spent your night in the roadside ditch. You must be freezing, huh?”

Jinn didn’t know what answer she expected. He was still thinking about it when she continued: “Good thing I already prepared a bath. It’s probably hot enough.”

He followed her into a bathroom and was met with a warm and wet steam of air. A flowery scent was in the air and reminded Jinn of the small garden behind his parent’s house. Now there was no one there anymore to water the plants.

“I hope you like lavender,” Callie said. She walked through the room, collecting towels and other things, but he was distracted by the huge bathtub dominating the room. It looked nothing like the bathrooms in the theatre. It looked warm and inviting and safe ...

“This is for you,” she interupted his thoughts and put the towels down on a small table. “Take your time and if you need anything else just call for me, okay?” Her gaze slid over him. “In the meantime I’m going to get you a new set of clothes. Any preferences?”

It took him a moment to realise she’d asked him a question and finally he shook his head.

Then she left and closed the door and he was alone. For a long moment he stared at the door, expecting her to come back and tell him it was all a mistake or a test or a joke and then she would throw him out of the house. But nothing like that happened.

He didn’t understand what was happening. Her kindness felt like a trap. He wished she had just taken him to Ariadne. He wished it was already over. And now he was here in this too fine bathroom with too soft towels and too warm water.

If she knew what kind of message he was carrying, she wouldn’t have prepared a bath for him. If she knew what he had done, she wouldn’t have been that nice. Maybe he should have told her. But he had to tell Ariadne in person.

Maybe that’s why she wanted him to take a bath. He was reeking and leaving puddles wherever he stepped. Of course she didn’t want him to walk through their pretty house like this. Of course she didn’t want him to talk to Ariadne like this.

Slowly he stepped closer to the tub. The water had a purple tint and the smell of lavender calmed him down.

He hesitated before he touched the surface. It still felt like a trick. This wasn’t made for him. He wasn’t supposed to be here and he was most definitely not supposed to touch it. He took a shuddering breath. Slowly he moved his fingertips toward the water surface until the water licked over his fingers. It was almost too hot at his still freezing skin and it took a while until he could submerge his whole hand.

In the end it didn’t matter. She had told him to get a bath and he had learned long ago it was better to follow orders and so he slowly slipped out of his shoes. He hadn’t realised how dirty they were. Their original colour was barely recognisable by now. He didn’t look too closely. The floor under his bare feet almost felt warm and for a moment he got lost in the sensation before he continued to pull off his clothes.

He didn’t want to make anything else dirty so he let his clothes fall to the floor until they formed a sad pile on the floor.

Getting into the tub felt like stepping into boiling soup but Jinn was glad as the water burned away the coldness in his bones and the dirt on his skin. His muscles slowly started to relax. And then suddenly he started to cry.

***

Quietly Jinn walked through the hallway. The clothes Callie had put down in front of the bathroom door were a little too big on him but they were dry and soft and warm and better than everything Jinn had worn the last few months.

His heart was racing as he searched for Callie. She had told him to find her in the kitchen but she must have forgotten to show him the kitchen in the first place. Or maybe Jinn had missed it.

In the distance he heard the faint sound of voices and he froze. They were coming closer. He wasn’t sure what to do. Standing in the hallway felt wrong but turning around wasn’t an option either. He was still frozen when two women turned around the corner.

“Jinn,” a voice said and Jinn recognised Ariadne’s voice immediately. His knees started to tremble and his heart sank.

Did she remember him?

They came closer and closer and the knot of grief and panic in Jinn’s stomach grew with every step.

“Jinn,” Ariadne said again, softer this time. She hadn’t changed, except that her belly was gone. She must have had her child already.

Jinn still didn’t know what to do. He had never thought that far. He had always planned on getting to Ariadne but he hadn’t planned any further and now she looked at him, still so far away as if she feared he’d run off. Jinn dug his trembling fingers into his sleeves and swallowed against the knot in his throat. He had to say something. That’s why he was here. His tongue moved before he could think about it twice.

“Thank you for your kindness,” he said and bowed shortly. He knew immediately it had been the wrong thing to do. Bowing was something Varsennan did. Suddenly he felt like drowning all over again. Who was he? What was he? Maybe he didn’t deserve to be Tharlian anymore. Tears burned in his eyes but he didn’t allow himself to cry. “I’m sorry,” he said. His tongue was numb and his voice shook so hard he wasn't sure Ariadne would understand him. “I just came here to tell you about your brother. I … You deserve to know ...”

“So he was at the theatre all along?” Ariadne asked. Her eyes moved over him carefully.

Jinn looked down. He swallowed hard, fighting for words. He’d done this wrong. He’d done all of it wrong. “He … I’m sorry … He’s dead. He died so I could get a-away … it’s … it’s my fault and I know I shouldn’t have come here … I shouldn’t have … but I thought you should know what happened ...”

Time stopped and he saw the shock in her eyes. And then the shock turned to pain. “The whole time he was …” she said in a voice so small. He could almost feel her thoughts click into place.

He was trembling so hard he wasn’t sure it would ever stop. He lowered his gaze, unsure of what to do now that he’d told Ariadne. Would she call back the soldiers? He couldn’t imagine her doing that but maybe it was better to leave before he found out the hard way.

“I’m sorry,” Jinn said again, his voice so small he barely heard it himself.

Ariadne stepped closer and Jinn froze just as she wrapped him in an embrace.

“It’s not your fault,” she said and her voice wobbled as if she was about to cry.

For a moment Jinn couldn’t move, couldn’t think. What was happening? Wasn’t she angry with him? But then again, she was Kell’s sister. If she was only half as kind as Kell had been Jinn would be safe.

“I didn’t … He was … Everything went so fast,” Jinn said. The words came out chopped and breathless. And then he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

He was shaking so hard he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. He felt like falling and He didn’t remember falling and then suddenly he was kneeling on the ground, Ariadne’s arms still around him.

“It’s not your fault,” Ariadne said again, rocking him like a child.

“How do you know?” Jinn whimpered. “You don’t even know what happened.”

Ariadne let go of him. “Then tell me what happened," she said.

Jinn took a shaky breath. His mind was a mess and he wasn't sure what to say. The only words he could think about were "I'm sorry" and his mind repeated them again and again, pushing away every other thought.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You two were planning to escape?" Ariadne asked.

Jinn nodded, then shook his head. “Kell ... he wanted me to escape. He ... I think he’d planned it for a long time. And part of his plan had been to distract Oryn and everyone else by singing ... by singing a song in Tharlian," Jinn said. Tears ran down his face.

"He sang in Tharlian to the entire audience?" Ariadne asked. She was kneeling right in front of him.

Jinn nodded.

"Such a Kell thing to do," Ariadne said with a sad smile. She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

"Oryn must have been angry."

"I didn't see him but I knew he would … he would punish him," Jinn said quietly. "He … he did so many things but this time … Kell had made him look like a fool on a whole stage and I knew he would be furious. He would … he would … When I found him he … he was on the floor, bleeding … I don’t know what happened. I think someone stabbed him ...“ His voice wobbled and Ariadne wrapped him into another embrace.

He could still see the blood. Nobody could survive losing that much blood."

“He saved my life,” Jinn gasped between sobs. “And I …”

“It’s okay,” Ariadne said. Her hug tightened and he buried his head in her shoulder. Ariadne’s hand stroked soothingly over his back and Jinn felt like a fraud. Kell should be here now with his sister, his family. Not him.

***

Jinn’s sobs were so raw Ariadne’s heart tightened with every sound. He desperately clung to her as he fell apart.

Ariadne knew Kell was dead but right now all she felt was numbness. She knew once she was alone she would weep and scream but right now she couldn’t even cry. She wasn’t ready to mourn her brother yet. She wasn’t ready to even think about it.

How had Kell ended up in the theatre? What had happened to him? If she had been a little quicker, could she have saved him? The questions kept getting louder and louder in her mind. She didn’t think Jinn would be able to answer any of them. Especially not right now. He looked worse than the last time she’d seen him. Worn out and more like a ghost than a human being. His body was shaken by quiet sobs now and she waited until they had quieted down too.

She gently stroked away his tears even though new ones immediately came after. He blinked at her, his eyes red with grief and exhaustion.

“You can stay here as long as you like,” she said. “We’ll figure this out bit by bit but for now you should get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

Jinn nodded weakly as he pulled himself away. His eyes had a drift away look and she wasn’t sure if he really had understood what she’d told him.

***

Ariadne barely made it to the kitchen when Arjun caught up to her. He didn’t even ask when he saw her face. She fell into his open arms and wept.

He hugged her so firmly as if he was scared she’d disappear into thin air.

“He’s dead,” she finally managed and his hug tightened even more.

“I always thought … We were so close …” A sob broke from her and she could feel another one bubbling up in her chest. “I have to feed Quinn,” she pressed out. “And I have to make some tea and …” She wanted to move but Arjun kept hold of her wrist. “Ari, I can take care of that. You don’t have to do everything alone. Talk to me.”

His fingers slid down until he loosely held her hand. “Please don’t shut me out,” he whispered.

Ariadne swallowed. “I don’t even know what I am supposed to feel. I haven’t seen him in years.” Tears rolled down her face. “I never got to say goodbye.”

Arjun wrapped her in another hug as she wept for the brother she had lost so long ago.

________________

Thank you for reading! @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @tears-and-lilies @imagination1reality0 @suspicious-whumping-egg @i-can-even-burn-salad @siren-of-agony @villainsvictim (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

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#Unsung Heroes #whump writing #Jinn will fly #grief #survivor's guilt

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linecrosser · 1 year

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Febwhump 2023 - No.27 - survivor's guilt

#febwhump #febwhump2023 #febwhumpday27 #survivor's guilt #bruises #inujury #whump #whump art #achaar djaanib #kujuun

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katerinaaqu · 6 hours

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Survivor's Guilt and Survivor's Duty (P2)

this is dedicated to @aaronofithaca05 because I believe I read somewhere his birthday was coming? Hehehe Either way this is the second part

Continuation from:

It was only for a brief second that the rays of sun touched his salt-crusted cheek but Odysseus saw or at least he thought he saw a tall slender figure picking something up from the beach many meters away from him (maybe a seashell). The figure turned towards him and walked there. And then everything turned black…

Sweet warm sunlight was embracing him. It was a familiar warmth; as familiar were the smells of grass, land and flocks of goats. He could hear the birds singing, feeling the soil beneath his feet and the grass tops to his fingertips. The warm breeze was caressing his face and softly playing with his hair. He had his eyes closed taking in every detail his eyes could not perceive. He opened them to see the familiar land showered in light. Everything was still there…the hills, the crops…the flocks playing at the rocks…the birds singing amongst the olive trees… Tears overflew his eyes as his heart flattered within his chest. This was better than Elysium… This was home…

“Odysseus!”

The melodic voice came from a distance… Maybe it had come out of his very chest. And yet the familiar voice of the woman he so much longed for made him feel his heart ready to burst in his chest.

“Odysseus!”

There she was…showered in light. She had the strong sunlight at her back so he couldn’t make her features; just her silhouette. However he did not need to see her face to know who she was; that straight and slim body covered with her modest veils softly waving at the evening breeze.

“Penelope!”

It was a half-sob through that whisper; a prayer, a longing scream of the soul. She was standing there, as if to the beginning of a light tunnel. She was holding a small, wrapped up thing in her arms. Oh, he was home!

“Come, Odysseus!” the lulling voice came again

“Penelope…!”

Her name was the only thing he could utter. His throat was clenched by sobs that he wanted so much to let out and was holding them back.

“Come…my love…come…”

He extended his arm towards her offering one.

Light engulfed him…

He could hardly feel his surroundings but he gradually gained some level of consciousness enough to start to gain subsequently some essence of feel and touch. He could understand he was lying upon the soft, sweet-smelling surface of a bed. His eyelids seemed to be weighting a ton each as if they were made out of lead. His body felt even heavier than that and he barely could twitch a finger, yet alone move. His throat still hurt and felt dry but he noticed the feeling was infinitely better than the last time he remembered being conscious. He forced himself to open his eyes and again and again till finally he succeeded. At first all he could see was whiteness but after a second his vision half-cleared as he blinked. He noticed he was inside a white room made of stone. The sunlight was reflecting upon the whiteness of the walls creating a natural almost blinding result. It took him a few extra seconds to realize that he was inside some sort of grotto. The walls, even if they bore no decorations from murals like most palaces did, still looked magnificent and tall, they had nothing to be jealous of the great palaces he saw in his life or even holy Troy herself. There were quite a few pieces of furniture around and tapestries with patterns he didn’t recognize. He tried to raise his neck from the pillow but he realized he found it easier to move the rocks instead. His head seemed nailed to the pillow. He drew out a rusty breath as he scanned the place and only then he noticed a young girl above him fixing his covers, he presumed, with another behind her leaving a tray at a small table somewhere. The maid that fixed him had a scared look on her face. Was he really that much of a dreadful sight? He tried his voice that seemed stuck like the crust of salt that seemed to be gone from his body now.

“Where…where am I…?” he managed to rasp out

The maiden took a few steps back.

“Madam! He’s awake” she called upon someone behind her shoulder

“I can see that” came a melodious deep female voice from somewhere behind

Odysseus weakly looked up to see a magnificent woman. She was tall and slender with dark sun-kissed skin and dark hair carefully arranged in braids adorned with gold and seashells which cascaded down her back like a cape. Her face was heart-shaped and completely clear and pore-less; looking more like the magnificence of marble rather than flesh. Her large almond-eyes had the color of rich honey and her lips were full and shaped like a shell. Odysseus was stunned by her beauty and much more by her soothing voice.

“Who…” he started but his voice betrayed him

The stunning woman smiled almost maternally at him, raising with her richly adorned with gold bracelets and rings a goblet.

“Well, stranger, welcome back to the world of the living! You had us worried there. We believed you wouldn’t make it…”

“Wha…?” Odysseus started but again his throat betrayed him

“There, there, stranger…” the woman repeated maternally, “Come on, drink this…”

She slid her arm behind his back and half-raised him with unexpected strength, bringing the goblet to his lips. As the liquid touched those thirsty, dry lips, Odysseus gained strength anew to his arms; the type of strength you get when you need to survive. He greedily downed sips from the drink and aimed to hold it with his weak, shaking hands. He tasted the sweetest drink he ever thought he would taste; it was sweeter than honey, smoother than wine. It was all the tastes he ever knew and none at the same time. He coughed as the drink went down the wrong way but he drank more ignoring some that escaped his lips and down the thick layer of curly hair that adorned his wide chest. He was thirsty! He was thirsty to the point of madness!

“There…there…” the woman repeated, removing the goblet from his lips, “Easy there, take it easy…”

She handed the goblet to her maid who refilled it and she repeated the action, to which Odysseus responded quite the same way before breathing heavily of exhaustion and be lowered slowly back to his pillows. How weak one can be to feel exhausted by drinking from a cup while being held limb by someone else, he thought!

“Rejoice” said the woman standing to her feet, making her braids and jewels clatter with each other, “That’s Nectar you’re drinking; the drink of the gods. Not many humans have the honor of tasting it. It is the only thing capable of giving your strength back, given the state you were in”

The tormented king of Ithaca took a few more breaths; sucking the oxygen with the same thirst as he had drank the godly drink. However he realized that even though his body was still heavy like metal and his limbs weak he wasn’t in so much pain as he used to or at least as much as he could remember. His wounds were also healing as it seemed for they didn’t sting him anymore like burning coals. His burnt by sun shoulders, back and face no longer stung so badly either. He looked at the divine form once more. Her dark skin was perfectly contrasting the white walls of the grotto.

“Who…who are you…?” he managed to whisper with some effort, “Did I die…and somehow ended up to Elysium to be greeted by divine beings…?”

The girls now giggled as their mistress also chuckled softly.

“No, stranger, you are not dead, not yet; even if as it seems the gods are trying very hard to achieve that! You washed up on my isle to the brief of death. I found you and brought you to my home.”

“Then…” the stunned king began, “…who are you…?”

“I am Calypso” the woman replied with a tone of pride and regal aura, “Daughter to Atlas; immortal Nymph and Goddess Protector of Ogygia.”

“A goddess…” Odysseus repeated like an echo

He tried once more to sit up, this time with some success (which however left him exhausted and rasping for breath again).

“Pray tell me, magnificent lady” he began, “Has…”

He hesitated.

“Has…anyone else washed up to your doors? Alive or dead?”

The hope that was biting his heart wouldn’t leave him in peace; no matter what his brain was signaling would be logical. However Calypso’s half-amused look destroyed all the last bits of that hope before the goddess actually spoke.

“Anyone else? No, darling. Just you and it was already a miracle that you survived this. You washed up at my isle in what seemed like half a step from death. I highly doubt there are more people out there who could survive so.”

Odysseus felt his heart sinking. Yes, he expected that blow but it was a blow nonetheless. He felt his body grow weak again. He was struggling really badly to hold himself awake.

“How…how long was I…?”

He had counted around 9 days out in the sea. He assumed it was probably one more since he had lost consciousness more than once but now time escaped him. Calypso smiled again as her honey eyes reflected the light of the sun through her white cave.

“This is the morning of the fourth day you have been unconscious. My maids and I cleaned your wounds and anointed you with oil so that they would heal faster. We gave you a new change of clothes and tried to give you Nectar in hope from dragging you out of death’s door”

That explained the soft clothes that embraced his tormented body. There was so much he wanted to ask; so much he wanted to say… He made a move to sit up even further but his body shivered as if his arms had lost all their previous strength.

“No…” Calypso whispered melodically, “Too soon. You must keep your strength…”

Her touch felt warm against his chest. His senses swam. That delicate hand held strength beyond his comprehension as she firmly pressed him down and yet it was soft and welcome in his tortured soul.

“Goddess…” he began, “I…”

“Shhh…” Calypso whispered again, “Save your strength…sleep…”

Her voice was lulling…even more enchanting now than the Sirens whose forbidden song he was privileged to hear. His head softly touched the pillow as his sight got out of focus. Calypso’s beautiful face was blurred within his swimming, dizzy mind. Suddenly his body felt light…like falling weightlessly to the abyss. Calypso’s voice came as if from a distance even if she was right there above him.

“Sleep…”

Darkness took over him once more…

He was coming in and out of consciousness; that much he could tell, although everything became a blurring mess in his brain. Sometimes in some moments of clarity he could remember where he was; he was in the unknown location of Ogygia, nursed to health by the immoral Calypso…his men all gone…his ship was destroyed… The gloomy thoughts were swimming soon after and he drifted back to a sort of lethargy without beginning or end as if he was falling softly down an unknown hole; softly like a feather that was let go from a bird’s wing. His tormented body finally kept up with the events of the past weeks and soon came the shivers, the tremors, the fever and the dreams. That much Odysseus could remember in those rare moments of clarity that were interrupting his lithe. Body twitching and soaked in sweat, Odysseus the king of Ithaca found himself mumbling incoherent phrases and pledges confusing them with the images that attacked his tortured mind.

“No…ah…no…don’t…there…run…run…”

Twitching arms were moving over the light silky sheets. Twitching fingers grappling the material constantly. Droplets of sweat were always adorning his forehead.

“The wall…the wall…d-don’t…the horse…the horse…oh, gods, mercy…the horse…”

There was fire and screaming; faces of men and women tangled in a mass…there was a whirlpool of water opening up sharp teeth coming for his life. Cries of a baby were being mixed with yelps of pain and screeching of pigs being slain and moans of cows being sacrificed…

“Gods…! Oh, gods…mercy…the horse…the sea…get in…d-don’t…get in…don’t…the horse!”

The material of his shirt was so soaked that was plastered against his chest. He occasionally had to tear the material to be set free; no, he wouldn’t die out there by Poseidon! The material wouldn’t strangle him! Not today!

“No more…ah…gods, mercy…n-no more…! D-Don’t…c-catch it…h-hold it… The horse…gods…in the horse…fire…fire…that voice…gods…gods…make it stop!”

His throat was dry, his chest was clenched by an iron hand.

“No…no…ah…p-please…n-no more…the hair…run…I…I don’t…no…no…”

There was a flash of light and a loud bang then the smell of wine and burning flesh however the source of it he did not know. Then an eye staring at him from the black abyss, crying tears of blood.

“The horse…in the water…gods, mercy…no more…!”

He was falling…softly and slowly but still falling.

“The wall…the horse…in the water…that voice…c-catch…stop…stop the…”

Then there was darkness…

“…No…”

His eyes opened slowly but he was out of focus. There was a dim light around him and whiteness but everything was a blur. He was feeling like burning; both from the outside and the inside. There was a blurry figure at some small distance. His arm extended pleadingly towards it.

“Th-Thirsty…” he whispered as if in a trance, “Please…I’m…thirsty…”

Calypso noticed the movement at the bed and heard the whisper coming so feverishly out of those lips. She saw that wrecked body; those eyes that barely slid open to make a request before falling heavy once more. She smiled.

“Of course…”

She stood up and went to the table, pouring liquid in a goblet. However instead of doing what she did initially she drank deeply from it and leaned down. Her lips covered those burning ones. Odysseus felt the taste of water and honey in his tongue. His throat moved spasmodically and desperately to accept the sweet liquid. The softness of flesh against his lips…the taste of honey on his tongue… Penelope… Only she had breath that smelled of honey… Crusty honey cakes were her favorite snack. She was munching them all the time when she was pregnant to their sweet Telemachus and so her breath always tasted honey and sesame; her body smelt fine olive oil… Those lips desperately moved. Finally he was home… Penelope… His lips softly massaged those soft ones and moved harmoniously to the movement of response he felt. Oh, the longing! The sheer happiness! His lips tasted her again and again, hoping that his strength would come back; that his weak arm and hand that rose to touch that soft cheek would allow him to TRULY embrace her… He wanted to explore further…he wanted to taste more…however his body was sinking anew. Tears escaped his eyes, running and getting lost within his raven curly hair… Just a bit longer…oh, gods, have mercy…let me stay a bit longer… As that head sank down to the pillows, his mouth left hers and he drifted back to a deep sleep. Calypso felt their lips separate and pulled back to look at the sleeping form of the mortal man that washed up so unexpectedly to her isle. She touched her lips with her thumb in comprehension. She could still feel his lips on hers. What a weird sensation!

“Who are you, stranger…?” she thought with a curious smile, “…and you kiss so passionately…?”

Calypso tasted her lips in apprehension and a smirk rose to her face. She was definitely curious now. She leaned over that sleeping form. Her face was inches apart from his. The man beneath her was a mere mortal; he was barely average of height but of amazing physical structure, even though he had obviously lost weight from all the hardships he had to face. He seemed long past the age of his youth but that air of maturity in combination to the hardened features from life and sea gave him a special charm. That raven hair like ram’s fleece and the bushy beard gave him some wild beauty despite the fact that his features were not particularly handsome compared to gods and immortal nymphs. She landed her lips on top his head and between his brows and once more landed on those dry from sea lips, hoping to get that reaction again however Odysseus was so far under his sleep that he didn’t move anymore.

“Who were you thinking of…?” she whispered again, “What secrets do you hide…?”

Her smooth hand soothed that bushy chest and felt the fleece that covered it, feeling the hard muscles beneath. Her hand stopped to feel some tiny scar here and there; obviously reminders of war. The arms and legs obviously belonged to a warrior, a craftsman and a sailor…soft scars that could be done by nothing else but hunting knives and animal teeth could be seen in his fingers. Blisters found at his palms could be done by nothing else but sword shield and bow with arrows. The little hardened skin to his shoulders could be done by nothing else but armor. When she and her maidens were firstly nursing him back to health she noticed a distinct scar to his upper thigh (obviously some animal) and a scar to his abdomen (clearly a reminiscent of a spear). This man was no ordinary man. Calypso slowly rose herself off that sleeping form.

“Well, well, well…” she whispered, “Man with many talents…we shall see what the future holds…”

She caressed his hair gently and took two curly hairs from his head; one jet black and one silver for he had plenty that had started emerging from his obsidian mane like the first thunderbolts in the dark sky.

The light was warm; it was playing tricks between the leaves of the perennial olive trees that intertwined together to form the leg of his beloved bed; the wedding bed he had built with his own hands. And there, there was the familiar corridor of his palace; which he had walked up and down ever since he could remember. It seemed that everything was showered in yellow sunlight. He recognized every corner; every piece of marble, every mural in every wall. It was home; a humble yet perfect for him home.

“Odysseus!”

He turned around. There she was in all her beauty; Penelope, his wife and love approached him and hugged his arm. Her veils were already covering her hair as always when she came out of the chamber. Odysseus looked at her stupefied.

“Penelope?”

“Dear, oh, dear!” Penelope claimed playfully, “There you are! It was about time you came! You’re going to miss the celebration, darling, and it wouldn’t be appropriate, given that you are the honoring person!”

“Penelope?” Odysseus question again, “How…? I mean…when…?”

The love of his life, looking young and fresh like the day he left her for war chuckled in her usual crystal way that opened his heard like a rose.

“My, my! When you drink you don’t know what you’re saying!”

“But…I don’t…!”

The pull in his arm made him stagger forward.

“Well, come on then! You’ll miss the celebrations!”

“Hold on, a second, Penelope… What celebration?”

She chuckled again. Odysseus could swear he could hear that forever.

“But for the anniversary of taking Troy, of course! It was a year ago since the day you came back to us with the joyful news!”

“I’m…home…? I came…back…”

“Well come on! Your son has been preparing for this celebration for weeks! You don’t want to miss his performance now, do you?”

“Father!”

It was a distant voice Odysseus did not recognize. He looked forward towards the entrance that was showered in light. It almost seemed like Helios Hyperion was right outside his door, showering everywhere in light. There at the entrance he saw the silhouette of a young boy, with his arm above his head weaving at him.

“Father!”

“Telemachus!” Odysseus’s voice chocked into his throat

How much had he grown! He was almost a proper young man! The boy’s lean silhouette was still there. Odysseus cried tears of joy. There was a distant song coming from somewhere afar. He didn’t know that melody. There was also the rhythmical sound of someone weaving.

“Father! Come father! Come!”

It was as if an invisible hook was tied at his stomach for suddenly he was pulled towards the light. And then he was engulfed in white…

Odysseus opened his onyx eyes only to find himself to the familiar, now, environment of Calypso’s grotto. There were no more tapestries he knew or halls he had almost built brick by brick but the known white grotto. At the corner there was Calypso. She was humming some melody, moving to and fro. He remembered that song from his vague dream. That voice that could possibly be rivaling the Muses and the Sirens seemed like ringing like a bell in his brain. He work was considered of fine golden thread and patterns Odysseus did not recognize. Her fingers were moving swiftly and yet softly with a dexterity only an immortal goddess could have. For a moment he felt dizzy again but he realized it was much better than he thought. His body was still weak but in an infinitely better condition. His hand cupped his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He was feeling lost. Everything seemed exactly as he had left them before he lost consciousness.

“Forgive me, goddess…” he mumbled, “I fell asleep in the middle of our conversation…”

Calypso halted her movements and turned around to face him. Her shell-like lips formed a smile.

“It is quite a forgivable sin, darling” she replied airily, “Besides what’s a few days before eternity? It all passes like a breath”

“A few day-…?!” Odysseus was astounded, “Why, how long was I…?”

“Around a week this time, my darling.

“A whole week?!”

Calypso chuckled.

“And you gave quite the scare to my poor maids as well. They told me you torn the royal clothes they put on you twice and got alarmed by your voice as they thought you were going under again”

“I was talking in my sleep?”

“You don’t know half of it!” Calypso teased him, “You were mentioning a name quite often though when your phrases could make some sense… I believe it sounded like… ‘Penelope’…?”

Odysseus lowered his eyes in shame. It was already embarrassing enough that he was weaker than a baby and that he had these gorgeous women take care of his basic needs as he was unconscious and to hear he was sleep-talking as well but now that his wife’s name came out in the light he felt exposed.

“She’s my wife…” he finally admitted

Was that a shadow of jealousy that he saw passing flashily before her face like a tiny cloud momentarily shadowing the sun? Maybe he had imagined it, he thought, for her face returned to her previous calm state.

“I see…” Calypso whispered, “That explains a lot actually.”

“What?”

“It must have been her you were thinking of, when you kissed me”

All color left Odysseus’s face. He had no recollection of that event but the way Calypso said it, it sounded true!

“Gods! Forgive me goddess I shouldn’t have done that…!” he rushed to explain

Calypso, though, laughed.

“No need to worry too much, darling. Actually…I quite enjoyed it.”

Odysseus looked at her. His face almost looked like a hurt animal; like the fox that got out of his den to find a hound staring at him.

“You’re the first mortal to kiss me, actually” Calypso continued, “You took me by surprise but I don’t think ill of it”

“P-Please don’t take it the wrong way, goddess…” Odysseus tried to collect himself

His usual eloquent nature was once more gone; somehow lost in the sea and in the dreams; in the song and the spinning wheel.

“I…I was not myself. I shouldn’t have done that”

Calypso smirked again. Odysseus thought he had seen that smile before; a cat before attacking a rabbit at the fields of Ithaca. However her honey eyes shone wholeheartedly.

“Like I said, my dear guest, I quite enjoyed it. You seem to be a man of many talents… Even if…”

Odysseus’s heart clenched once more. The last thing he wanted was to see the bad side of yet another god.

“…you seem to have quite the nerve. You almost seem like you want to insult me by having me at your presence and admitting you mistakenly kissed me, thinking of some mortal woman!”

“I’ve had enough of offending gods for a lifetime, fair Calypso…” Odysseus mumbled fixing himself better in his bed

“Is that so…?” Calypso’s eyes shone again mischievously as she scanned him again, “I think it’s time you revealed who you are, stranger. What is your name? Which is your native land? Answer me truthfully, though. Gods can know when you are lying”

Odysseus lowered his eyes to his lap. Yes, his first instinct would be to conceal himself. He didn’t know what this goddess would think of him but she had saved his life after all. The very least he owed her was honesty and, if anything, indeed the gods often read the mortal soul like an open book.

“Odysseus…of Ithaca” Odysseus mumbled

“Ho?” Calypso brought her hand to her chin amused, “Is that so? Your reputation precedes you, Odysseus son of Laërtes, Man of Many Ways, the Man of Experience, Godly and Equal to Gods, Sacker of Cities… That’s a pretty long string of titles for a mortal! I am impressed. Although I must say that you have created quite a mess for the gods. Poseidon is crossed with you and won’t rest till he sees your destruction after you blinded his son.”

Odysseus lowered his eyes. There was so much he wanted to say and defend himself but as always his past wouldn’t let him… Troy, Polyphemus, the cows of Helios Hyperion… As if noticing his inner battle Calypso smiled softly. She placed a hand under Odysseus’s cheek, making her look at her in the eyes. For a moment his eyes god lost inside her honey pools that reflected the sunlight.

“Don’t worry, Odysseus. You are safe here with me. No god would dare to come to my territory unprovoked. They have no reason to come and seek you here. You will be safe…”

Safe… That was a word the tormented king of Ithaca couldn’t really contemplate… However the closeness with the goddess made him feel uncomfortable. There was something in the back of his head that felt wrong but he didn’t even know why or he wouldn’t dare to offend her. He pretended feeling dizzy again and he leaned back to avoid her touch. Calypso smiled and got up.

“My maids shall bring you some food, Odysseus. I believe you are strong enough to eat now. Nectar and potions we created should allow you to heal to that point”

“I am grateful, beautiful goddess…”

“Rest and regain your strength first” Calypso advised sweetly, “The rest shall come…”

The weeks passed and Odysseus was indeed trying his best to keep himself in good condition. A few days more and he could walk about Calypso’s grotto without any problems and soon he felt gaining his old strength back. Eventually he got out of the grotto and got to explore the isle around and know his surroundings. Under the tender care of Calypso and her maids, Odysseus felt like finding himself again. He gained the weight he lost by his cruel misadventures and managed to built his previous physical strength. He could still have an ominous feeling pressing over his chest and more often whatnot he would wake up from his dreams because he would hear a mystical song or someone weaving but he brushed it off. Calypso on the other hand could not help herself feeling more and more for this mortal man that showed up at her door. She would get a glimpse of him diving into the waters of her isle to gather mollusks and shells. Others with similar experiences might not even want to be near the sea but not Odysseus. Odysseus was different. She was observing him from afar and hoped to join with him. The curiosity of how humans made love already excited her yet alone now that this man had showed up at her door; a man whose wits seemed to rival the gods. She wondered if that was what made this king attractive in her eyes or maybe his mortal nature; this ephemeral essence of human existence that would disappear one day. She hoped to get closer…much closer to him. However that seemed impossible. Odysseus seemed to be like a fort; closed behind walls he built around his heart. During their countless conversations they would speak on a variety of subjects but every time she asked him about himself and his emotions he would grow distant from her. He closed up like a clamp and refused to elaborate. It frustrated her that she could not get a way to his heart; console his pain and maybe provide a missing piece. It was the first time the immortal goddess had discovered someone as lonely as she was feeling. She looked down at the end of the valley and saw Odysseus. He was shirtless from the waist and above and was chopping some wood for the grotto. It was good for him to have some work to distract himself, or so he had said. Quite frankly Calypso could stare forever. She felt incredibly jealous of Penelope, the woman that had so much influence on him without even being there! If only she had a way to his heart! She looked at her work; her tapestry of gold thread…she looked at the tiny black and the tiny silver hairs that were incorporated to the sea of crimson and gold. She smiled apprehensively. Odysseus was cunning but so could she.

Odysseus walked back into the chamber, wiping the sweat off his body with his shirt. He entered the chamber only to see the maids of Calypso, the nymphs he had learnt by name by now, waiting for him.

“What is it, Ipomea?” he asked the girl who came first to him

“My lord…” the nymph replied respectfully (although the giggles behind her surely didn’t help her), “My mistress requires your presence at the pavilion”

“The goddess? Whatever for?”

“If it pleases you, my lord, we have prepared your bath, aromatic oils and my mistress arranged your clothes for you.”

“My, my, it sounds important!” Odysseus smiled, “Well…it’s not proper to let the good goddess wait then…”

He entered the tub that was filled with water to the temperature he liked and let himself to the hands of the maids who washed him from top to bottom helped him dry himself and anointed his body with aromatic oils. They dressed him in fine crimson that night that slithered across his body like water. They brushed his hair and trimmed his beard, tied a goldthread headband around his head and wore golden sandals to his feet. Yes, Calypso did that a lot; she was picking clothes for him and making sure he didn’t want of anything but yet some part of his soul was always ringing a bell; resisting as if by instinct. Dressed up at the godly clothes made by Calypso, Odysseus walked about the grotto to climb to the pavilion. The pavilion was basically a small half-closed terrace; an opening to the cave, which allowed Calypso to lay upon her bench and stare to the openness of the sea. He was summoned there before but never so late in the evening. He wondered what it was all about. He reached the dimly lit pavilion and he stopped in amazement. Calypso was already there lying on her couch lazily. She was dressed in a magnificent garment; a cloth to the color of amber that was bringing out her complexion and her honey eyes. Her braided hair was adorned with gold and pearls and neatly arranged. Odysseus could smell her aromatic oils even from the entrance. Calypso was very careful when she chose that dress. She wanted something to let out her beauty without making it too obviously provoking. She knew that Odysseus would be too clever to fall for such a trick. Sensing his presence she smiled.

“Odysseus! I am so glad you came!” she said in her low, melodic voice

Odysseus scanned the pavilion. There were torches to light it and some candles. There was a second bench waiting undoubtedly for himself and in the middle he saw the large gold-pleated crater that was already being stirred by the nymphs. Calypso had chosen the best godly wine in her cellar and she made sure she gave clear instructions to her maids to keep the analogy 3 to 1 so that the godly drink would be strong and savory.

“Come, sit with me, darling,” she said pointing at the other bench with her bracelet-adorned hand, “there is wine and dinner waiting”

Odysseus smiled.

“Goddess…” he returned her greeting with a bow of his head, “What’s the occasion?”

Calypso smiled a cat-like smile.

“But you returning back to health, of course” she replied with winged words, “I can tell by the way you prance about my grotto that you have finally reached your original strength”

“I have” Odysseus confirmed kneeling by her bench, he took her hand in his, “And it’s all thanks to you, goddess…”

He gratefully kissed her hand. Calypso shivered as those lips touched her immortal flesh. Oh, she adored him! She wanted to explore more of him! However she knew she had to be patient if she wanted Odysseus to become hers. She drew her hand back chuckling.

“Now, now, Odysseus!” she said airily, “Let us not get stuck in such…trifles! Let us just enjoy this night that is so beautiful. Let us not worry of yesterday or tomorrow”

“Couldn’t agree more, goddess” Odysseus smiled taking his place to the bench right opposite her.

Calypso smiled.

“Wine?”

“If you please…”

Calypso signaled at her maid to serve from the crater the ruby liquid. Odysseus brought it to his lips and tasted the rich taste of the drink.

“This wine belongs to the best year of my isle. My land is as you know rich. We do not want of anything here…” she looked at him again, scanning him with her eyes, “What do you think…?”

“Exquisite…”

Calypso raised her cup in a toast.

“To life then!”

“To life”

The two of them sat at the pavilion all evening talking on various subjects. Odysseus told her about the airs of the Aegean and the lands he met on his way to Troy, the mountains of Parnassus and the crops, the ships and warfare, circle of seasons and many more while Calypso talked about the stars and the sky, the secrets of the cycle of epochs and the song of the birds of Ogygia. The hours passed without Odysseus realizing it. Calypso had given clear orders to her maids to make sure that Odysseus’s cup would never empty and every time he would try and refuse she would try to lure him with yet another toast or some small talk for distraction. She knew however that he wouldn’t really refuse if she asked. She had come to know he was afraid to displease her. She had invited him there and he felt it was his duty to obey her requests. He wouldn’t refuse her out of fear that he would offend her. She watched him sip the red liquid away and his cheeks flare from the alcoholic beverage and his eyes shine in inebriation and yet his defenses were still strong for he refused to open up every time Calypso would try to sneak in a more personal question. He might still discuss different matters and laugh every time a maid mentioned something but she could tell he was still hiding many things inside him. Calypso knew she had to be careful. She was absolutely certain that Odysseus despite the fact that the wine was making his speech slower and his reactions more lethargic, that he could understand perfectly well what was going on and that he would be perfectly cognitive. She had to advance softly if she needed him to open up. She needed an opportunity. And she found it. At some point as Odysseus was pretty much completely drunk she realized that shadow of melancholy passing from his eyes. Yes, she knew that look. It was the look he got every time he lost himself in deep thought.

“Odysseus…?” she called at him in her melodic singing voice, “Odysseus…?”

“Hm?”

“Do you find my company that unpleasant, Odysseus?”

Odysseus looked at her. She saw those eyes, those eyes that resembled obsidian, looking at her and she felt almost weak in her legs.

“No, goddess…” he eventually replied sluggishly

“Then why do you look so gloom?” Calypso questioned, “I am here to entertain you; so we can celebrate your recovery back to health and you sit there looking sad. Please talk to me, what’s wrong…?”

“G-Goddes…”

“Don’t you trust me, Odysseus…?”

Odysseus froze.

“I…”

Such an easy question and such a difficult answer it would need! Odysseus tried to find the proper words and force that stupid tongue of his that had turned sluggish in his mouth and explain. However the dizziness wouldn’t let him to concentrate. Perhaps he shouldn’t have drunk so much! Calypso, on the other hand, could almost feel his head wheels running, cornered by her direct question.

“Please, Odysseus…” she said in a mellow tone, “Open up to me, darling. I want to help you…”

Just a bit more, she thought, just a little more. She looked at him again; how he was gazing her with those eyes glistering from unshed tears and wine. For one second she wondered that maybe he was too drunk and that she should have stopped earlier but she dismissed the thought. Only in the condition he was now he would be able to drop his defenses and finally trust her even for a little bit.

“Talk to me, Odysseus…”

And, finally, Odysseus talked. He could not contain his emotions any longer as he spoke to her of his experiences; of how he faced contempt in Troy, of how they were captured by Polyphemus, of the agony of the trip…how he saw his mother in the underworld who told him she died of grief…how his son waited in Ithaca; the son he never saw to grow and finally the brutal deaths of his comrades… And then she saw the man break...there she saw him come undone... He talked and tears were flowing from his eyes like rivers, wetting the cloth he wore and he seemed inconsolable till he managed to muster some of his self-control and try to stop. Calypso slowly got up and sat beside him. He clearly was in no state to walk.

“My darling…” she whispered maternally embracing him

She kissed his head and forehead and she pulled him closer, letting him lean his head to her bosom. She rocked him softly.

“My poor tormented darling…”

She realized that he was probably at his limit so she signaled at her maid with her eyebrows not to refill his cup, which she placed aside. Odysseus was feeling his lips tingling; his stomach was upset and his head was turning like a top and yet that soft embrace seemed to be soothing him. His head was heavy as he leaned to her chest, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“G-Goddess…I…” he mumbled

Calypso leaned over to his ear and she whispered in a tone that rang to his mind like a silent bell.

“Shall we go, my darling…?” Calypso whispered directly in his ear, “Shall we go to bed…?”

He shook his head. It wasn’t a yes and it wasn’t a no. He was completely inebriated. Calypso passed one arm behind his waist and she raised them all up with unexplainable strength. Odysseus was led almost completely limb in her arm towards the chamber and it made him realize for one more time he difference between gods and mortals; Calypso’s body that looked fragile and feminine held strength enough to crush him if she wanted to. And yet she was being gentle with him…she had saved his life. This detail shouldn’t be concerning him, right? As Calypso led him and helped him lie down the bed his eyes truly couldn’t remain open. He closed them feeling the world spinning around him like a top. He fathomed he should sleep. His head was feeling heavy.. Calypso watched him and for a second she was tempted to kiss him; taste those lips of his. However she was almost certain that Odysseus would remember everything of that night. She didn’t want to ruin her opportunity. She smiled like a spider watching her web.

‘Soon, my love…soon you will forget those sorrows…here with me…”

~~~~

So here's the second part of this story and Odysseus beached in Ogygia with his life and yet things are about to be difficult for him. Now the reason I chose Calypso to have dark complexion was mainly because I was enamoured with The Odyssey (1997) and I thought it would be a fun idea to explore. Her house in Ogygia in my story is at Gozo in Malta.

Now for Odysseus's visions I was inspired by the amazing soundtrack from "The Perfume"

youtube

I was also heavily inspired by Gladiator movie for them.

I figured Odysseus would be incredibly weak for days after his ordeal. And I tried to add some more details to make it look more like Calypso fell for him.

Odysseus fell ill because when he finally relaxed, all his anxiety was basically striking his body mercilessly. Now his mumbles were not supposed to make any sense and they were random based on his adventures. Now if someone wants to make something out of them, the most infamous horse he is related to is the Trojan horse but also the horse is a symbol of Poseidon so maybe just maybe it refers to Poseidon as well hahahaha!

He tears his clothes because in his delirioum when the clothes plaster on him, he feels as if he is back at the sea struggling alone

The "honey crackers" exist in Greece even today and they are called παστέλι (pasteli). It is a savory snack made of sesame seeds and honey. Sesame existed as crop in Greece since homeric times. Which is why I put it here. Quite frankly I am not sure if it was a thing in bronze age when Odysseus lived but hey if Homer can use anachronism so can I! Hahahahaha

Also suspicious suspicious that Odysseus seems to be healling "happy" in the island hahahaha! That is because some people interpret Calypso weaving and singing while moving to and fro as her enchanting him. In my story he is basically subtly enchanted to "forget" some parts of his sorrow to stay and heal. Calypso thought she could bind him but his will is stronger so her magic only reaches a superficial level.

In this I wanted Odysseus to suffer fates that he imposed to his enemies or were imposed to his friends and he was spared for example lethe (Lotus Eaters) drunkeness (Polyphemus)etc.

For Calypso I was inspired by a spider spinning a web.

I hope the last part will come soon!

As always I shall thanks @loco-bird @tunguszka20 @doob-or-something @jarondont @prompted-wordsmith @simugeuge @ilov3b00kss0much @fangirlofallthefanthings

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