#trequel

what comes to our shores

Chapter 3

"What's on your mind, my king?" Odysseus said softly. "You have been... different," Poseidon admitted, the blue ends of his fingers still playing with his hair as he admired the silver strands. He thought he saw less in his hair than last time, or perhaps that was because he looked at his bangs. Poseidon wondered if it was the ichor and ambrosia that his body had once rested in almost a year ago, somehow affecting his mortality in some way. He did look younger, though he still looked like he had aged; there was something about how he carried himself and how his face looked less tired. Less wrinkles. "Different how?" His husband responded as he leaned into his touch.