#okay that nonsense aside LYNNIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i realise this doesn't come even a centimetre close to the beauty of your prose

[mythvoiced]

@swansofmisery | Calypso

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How often can he walk along the endless shore of this island before the sand will swallow him whole and the pebbles within will pierce and gauge his eyes out?

How often can he hope that might happen?

Staring out at the ocean has become a habit transcended from a hobby, as if having a hobby in the situation he's in is even something he could consider having. The ocean doesn't function as a sight to behold, the sand isn't something to stretch his toes in, the distance from the immortal's abode isn't gained on a whim or casually, these are all the actions of a man trapped, not one at ease enough to want to find ways to busy himself.

A caged animal pacing the length and width of his cage, nothing less.

When Odysseus doesn't have the beach to explore or the plans to make or the gods to hope for or his mistakes to bemoan or his family to miss, he only has... her.

And whatever she demands of him.

"Goddess," if only he can hope to never call her by name. He turns a piece of wood he'd found between his fingers. It was hardly more than a twig from her lush vegetation, but he finds tranquillity in having something to toy with, something to hold when he speaks to her, so that his hands may always remain busy.

So nothing may be asked of them.

He tilts his head to one side and offers a brittle smile.

"Come to accompany me on my walks, I gather?"