voice testing forever and ever.

[ithaca]

I have no qualms on you setting your eyes on me. You do as you please, and only fools dare to thwart your efforts. I've seen as much in my short time here.

I only ask that you do not let me part from my wife for too long. The war is over, and she is waiting.

( ooc: he's from the troy movie-verse. )

Comments

[meant]

I pray you find your way back to her, ser.

[ithaca]

You are most kind. ( he smiles faintly. she is but a child, but her words seem sincere. odysseus knows the value of hope. )

Some things are not so certain, but your prayer mirrors mine, my Lady.

[meant]

( it is not hope, no. not exactly. hope is a foolish thing for foolish people, for children who do not know better. sansa had hoped, once. to see her family again, to see winterfell. but winterfell was burned to the ground, and her family is no more.

sansa's family. not her own. alayne stone never had any family except for petyr baelish and a mother whom she had never known. it was a courtesy, nothing more and nothing less. if the gods be good.

but his face gives her pause when she glances upward at it for the first time, and alayne's breath catches. he's the very image of her -- of sansa's lord father, eddard stark, but alayne forces her face to be as still as stone. )

...What is your name, my lord? If you would be so kind.

[ithaca]

( he finds something in her eyes, for a fleeting moment. he's been looking at her face, giving her the attention she deserves, and then - a flash - and it is odd, for he knows not the girl, nor remember her voice.

yet she asks for his name. is she hoping that he says another? )

Odysseus.

( he replies, his voice low. )

Of Ithaca.

( in this moment, a king's title means nothing. odysseus holds on to it, but does not share it. )

[meant]

( odysseus of ithaca. a land that alayne has never heard of, not straight-forward enough to be westerosi, but it rolls off of his tongue like one of the free cities. a noble sounding name, she thought. a name of legends, and stories. )

Ithaca. It sounds beautiful.

( she can't help but stare at his face a little longer. it's folly, perhaps. to survive she has to leave everything she was behind, and yet he looks so much like lord eddard stark, and how she must address him, even in her mind. )

[cassie_of_troy]

She will wait, son of Laertes.

She will wait.

[ithaca]

Such certainty. But how much does a prophetess of the sun god see? ( he smiles, a bit wistfully. ) Will her patience reward her with a husband to love, or a corpse to bury along with her tears?

[cassie_of_troy]

If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.

[ithaca]

Either living or dead, I shall return to her. ( he says firmly. ) A seer may have her words but destiny belongs to the man who holds it.

la di la

[weldings]

Would've thought a wife's more of a reason ta stay away. [ Why does a Greek man from Ithaca have a Yorkshire accent? Oh, fuck it. He has one too. ]

jesus

[ithaca]

( he laughs. my, you look mightily familiar... )

Those who are afraid of their wrath would say so.

jsyk ilu and let's get married in vegas.

[weldings]

[ Your hair is way too curly for his liking but yeah, that is one familiar face. Especially that smile. But Mark is used to his stupid mun's stupid headspace filled with too many Sean Beans so he just shrugs it off. ]

Ya don't think she'll be pissed off at ya?

[ Eyebrooooooow. Also, yeah, okay, he's twice-divorced, he doesn't trust wives. ]

what happens in vegas stays in vegas.

[ithaca]

The possibility exists. ( he admits that much, at least. ) But I prefer not to think of morbid things.

[sharpe]

[ Samefais... but he has seen two others with his face in his mun's own head, so fuck it. Besides, priorities. ]

War? What kinda war?

[ithaca]

( god, why are there too many of him floating around... ok priorities, man. )

A war for power, and the greatest of our time, it seems. A unified - ( whatever he thinks of Agamemnon and his ideals, this word stands ) - Greece, amassed with a thousand ships sailing across the Aegean, against the high walls of Troy.

[sharpe]

[ Because someone has an obsession. You're lucky I didn't break out the psychopath.

Sharpe listens, and okay, there's something about what this man said that nags at him. Something he should remember, but eh, it's probably not important if he doesn't remember it. ]

If it's a fuckin' siege, then just say it's a fuckin' siege. [ He snorts, leaning against the nearby wall. Ankles crossed, his Baker's rifle leaning against his shoulder. ]

That's it? Two countries, one siege, and that's fuckin' it. [ He snorts. ] Bunch o' big guns can take care o' that, easy.

[ithaca]

( he has only one thing to say: )

Guns?

( yes please explain to the ancient greek guy. )

[therangerking]

[ His voice is halting, for though he knows that it is not Boromir, the voice and face are the same. The accent is rougher- but that means little. ]

Your wife will certainly be glad, sire, to know that you yearn to return to her. [ His voice is low, quiet. ]

[ithaca]

( what is it with people staring at him, it's rude. )

Any husband who love their wife would yearn for them. ( he is unashamed. he loves Penelope. everyone practically knows that.

he gives this stranger a light, fleeting smile. ) I should like to think that she will glad, but the wait shall definitely vex her.

[therangerking]

'Tis the fate of wives of soldiers and kings, [ his tone is almost bland, and he watches Odysseus carefully- this man, who is so much like and so much unlike Boromir, ] to have to wait for their return.

A cruel fate.

[ithaca]

( he takes the bait, though, and looks up at the mention of 'kings', his smile turning just a bit wistful. )

For whom do you think, stranger? The one who waits with longing or the one who leaves with a yearning for home? It is both that one should pity, if pity is welcomed.

wht am I even doing here who are you I hate you

[undeniably]

[ she is white all over, in hair and skin, eyes pale as winter skies. her beauty is pristine, perfect, poised, her make-up a pearlescent stain on lips and cheeks and eyelids. she possesses a seemingly effortless grace, a bird-like elegance in the cant of her head. ]

If only you were all like this! Tscha - but then there would be no sport. [ a smile, a coy curve of her mouth. ]

Your wife must be a woman of some power, or are you just particularly clever? I am sure it is the former, but sometimes these are good matches, with both.

dkajsjf

[ithaca]

My wife is a formidable woman, and no man should dare cross her, not even I. ( he replies, but not without an ounce of pride and affection. ) In that, I should say I am particularly clever.

[hoarfrosted]

Wives, if they be good, will wait forever.

[ithaca]

It is of little comfort, nevertheless, that there's a chance she will have to wait 'forever'.