#auooghh...

A gift from you, And a gift from me.

Scene 1: The Lesson of the Tide

Give this scene a name 'The sea was restless that evening, waves striking the rocks in slow, heavy pulses. Dark clouds drifted low over the horizon, and the air smelled of salt and storm.

Nobody staggered across the slick stone, blood and seawater mixing on his skin. His breath came in short, ragged bursts. Every step hurt. Every bruise and cut throbbed. But he didn’t look back.

A shadow rose from the surf behind him.

The water swelled upward, folding into the shape of a towering figure. Long dark hair clung to his shoulders, and the deep blue of his tail shimmered like a night sky. Poseidon’s eyes burned with cold, ancient fury.

“So,” the sea god said, voice like distant thunder, “the clever little mortal thought he could escape the father.”

Nobody turned, jaw tight. “I did what I had to.”

“You blinded my son,” Poseidon growled. “Mocked him. Lied to him. Called yourself ‘Nobody’ so his cries would mean nothing.” The waves surged harder against the rocks. “Did you truly believe there would be no punishment?”

Nobody didn’t answer. He just glared, stubborn even now.

The sea surged again. A powerful current swept around his legs, knocking him forward. He hit the stone with a grunt, palms scraping against the rough surface. Before he could push himself up, Poseidon was there, one scaled arm seizing him.

There was no struggle left in Nobody. He was too exhausted, too battered. The god’s grip was unyielding, ancient strength holding him in place.

Poseidon’s hand came down hard across Nobody’s bruised backside. The sharp crack echoed over the water. Nobody flinched, teeth clenching, but he didn’t cry out.

Again. The blow was firm, punishing rather than cruel, the kind of strike meant to make a lesson sink deep. The sea roared around them, waves crashing as if echoing the god’s anger.'

“Let this be a memory you never forget,” Poseidon said, each word heavy. Another strike. “You toyed with a cyclops and thought yourself clever.”

Nobody’s breath hitched. His hands curled against the stone. He refused to beg, refused to apologize, even as the punishment continued.

Finally, Poseidon stopped. The sea calmed slightly, though the tension in the air remained.

He released Nobody, letting him slump forward onto the rocks. The mortal trembled, breath coming in soft, uneven huffs.

“Hah… hah…” Nobody laughed weakly, though it sounded more like a cough. “Is that all, sea king?”

Poseidon’s expression hardened. “No. Every storm, every loss, every moment of despair—you will remember this day.”

He turned, tail sliding back into the dark water.

“Tell the world,” Poseidon added, voice fading into the waves, “what happens when mortals think themselves wiser than gods.”

The sea swallowed him, leaving Nobody alone on the cold, wet stone, the storm still gathering overhead.

Scene 2: The Weight of the Lesson [Nob(Ody) is home by this point]

The room was dim, lit only by the last gray light slipping through the shutters. The sea beyond the walls of Ithaca whispered against the rocks, steady and distant, like a lullaby that couldn’t quite reach him.

Nobody lay bent over the edge of his bed, his face hidden in the crook of his crossed arms. His shoulders shook with quiet, uneven breaths. He tried to keep silent, but a few broken sobs slipped out anyway, muffled against the rough blanket beneath him.

The room smelled faintly of salt and old wood. His cloak lay crumpled on the floor, its faded fabric still dusted with sand from the shore. He hadn’t bothered to pick it up.

Across his lower back and backside, the skin was flushed a deep, angry red. A few distinct handprints stood out against the soreness, stark reminders of the punishment he’d just endured. Each breath made the sting more noticeable, the heat lingering beneath the surface like a slow burn.

He shifted slightly, wincing, then went still again. The pain wasn’t what made his chest tighten. It was the weight of the lesson, the disappointment in the voice that had delivered it. That hurt more than the marks.

His fingers curled into the blanket. He wanted to disappear into the mattress, into the dark, into the name he carried. Nobody. Nothing. No one to fail. No one to disappoint.

Another quiet sob slipped out before he could stop it. Outside, the waves kept their rhythm, uncaring and eternal, while he lay there, small and shaken, waiting for the sting in both body and heart to fade.

did you know?

Andreas used to be very small and get bullied a lot by other kids of his kind, he had horse ears too!