𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ᵉ*ᵗᵐ

69 ┃ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

━ ⭑─⭒━

━ ⭒─⭑━

By the time you made it back to the others, a light breeze curled through the trees, carrying the smell of salt and damp leaves. The fire in the center burned low but steady, its heat spilling in soft waves across the clearing.

It wasn't enough to chase away the chill completely, but it reached your skin in warm flickers—like dipping your hands into sunlit water.

Telemachus led you over to one of the low logs pulled up near the fire. The wood was worn smooth from use, the edges rounded from years of hands and weather. He sat first, dropping down close enough that your thighs pressed together, his knee brushing yours whenever either of you shifted.

Even through the tunic, you could feel the steady weight of him—solid, warm in a way that made the breeze seem farther away.

Across the clearing, Callias was stretched out near the firepit, a blanket tucked haphazardly over his legs. Peisistratus sat cross-legged beside him, humming something under his breath while poking at the fire with a stick.

Calypso moved quietly between you all, placing a carved wooden plate in your hands without a word. A simple cut of roasted fish, still steaming faintly, sat beside a few slices of soft fruit. She set another plate in Telemachus' lap and passed out waterskins one by one, her bracelets of sea-polished shells clinking softly when she moved. Her smile stayed polite—light, almost dreamy—but her gaze never lingered on you for long.

Once everyone had a plate, she straightened, brushing her palms against the folds of her skirt. "Eat well," she murmured. "The nights are longer here than you think. Rest will serve you better than talk."

And just like that, she slipped away, bare feet whispering over the grass as she disappeared into the deeper green. You caught the faint sway of her hips, the gleam of blossoms wound into the vines on her arms, before the shadows took her completely.

You glanced down at your food, picking absently at the fish with your fingers. The skin flaked easily under your touch, and the scent was smoky, rich—but your stomach was still too knotted to feel properly hungry.

The crackle of the fire filled the silence for a while. You could hear Telemachus take a quiet sip from his waterskin beside you, the wood under you both creaking faintly when he shifted.

Then, out of nowhere—

"Sooo," Peisistratus said, his voice breaking through like a rock tossed into calm water. "Who's our striking hostess? Is she single by chance?"

Your head turned just in time to see him tilt his chin toward the path Calypso had taken, his brows raised like he'd just asked about the weather.

You scoffed, plucking a piece of fruit from your plate and tossing it at him. "Gods, you and Callias have a problem. Always thinking with your lower halves."