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Good morning my love~ 🌻🤍

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Kalo 🌻

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Telemachus and Kalokairi’s Wedding day WIP.

[nohbdywrites]

A Telemachus FAN story. In the Epic Musical universe. Original character storyline.

CHAPTER THREE

As Odysseus drenched the sands with tears, Kalokairi looked over her shoulder to the sea. Dusk slowly approached and she furrowed her eyebrows with a sigh. “Take all the time you need. I’ll go get us some provisions, fresh water and wood for a small fire.” She says as she walks past him.

Odysseus rose up, wiping away his tears aggressively with a silent nod. His head turned towards another direction though as Kalokairi disappeared within the woods. He looked toward the hill that would lead to the village underneath his palace. A place where the Ithacan woman and elderly lived. Where the suitors take slumber. His heart turns colder still, the burn of Aries within his eyes. So he sat there, pondering.

Kalokairi continued on, her hand at the hilt of her blade. A blade very special and dear. She was here on Ithaca for a very special reason. In search of something that’ll complete a tool of great use that she plans to use to complete her entangled quests. But for now, she set that aside. For she was going to bring Odysseus home, and doing so they need food and rest that was in order. It was what’s best.

She went on, for her hunting weapons lost to the sea. But she had throwing knives strapped at her thigh under her chiton. It was enough because being a daughter of Chieftain, it was excepted to be able to hunt with anything; including her bare fists. Her father said, “it is the way if you’re not exceptional as my kin to lead strong one day, for you to be discarded my daughter,” said the great Oukonunaka. So she made it so her tribe could never question her abilities at the ripe age of six years old. She listens to the sounds of the local creatures that lurked in this heavily wooded isle. Crowded together, waiting and preying for their next meal. But from afar her toned ears recognized a skitter so fast and made of wind. It was a stag, perfect for her hunt and to fill their bellies as Odysseus plans his next move.

Within the mud she found tracks. The grassy exterior revealing more information than any normal person could gather. Hooves small with short width the size of a pig or boar. Long strides hooves of deer, and that beautiful stag not to far away from her. There were other tracks, letting her know that the isle of Ithaca was indeed still known of wolves. But they seem to have lead a trail maybe a day or so ago far to her east. Their tracks near dried out, and barely unrecognizable. She followed that stags trail. It was running through here near minutes ago. From the brush, she found her coverage. She stalked the stag, watching as its long antlers twisted and turned. The ear twitch, the wag of its tail unbothered and unknowing of its soon to be end.

With a flash of light of the sun on metal and at a perfect angle she moved to, the small blade left her hand and imbedded into its left eye. The stag, jolted to move forward and with a weak wobble, fell with a twitch to the forest floor. Her hunt was over for the night. In the land of Artemis, she had witnessed as she watched with an impressed eye before returning to bathing in her beautiful, cool spring. It is said only a single blow should kill your game, and Artemis wouldn’t let this go unnoticed.

Kalokairi dragged that stag back, and Odysseus looked to the side to her as the massive creature lay next to the station she’d use to skin and cut its venison. She gathered their water, she gathered the herbs she could find quickly. Came back and began her work yet again. It was silent between them. But as she had gone, Odysseus looked to the large creature and couldn’t believe this stranger; this woman had taken it out without ten times the arrows used to take down any larger creatures by the old Ithacan hunting parties. And yet, there wasn’t a single arrow protruding from its pelt. Only the dribble of blood spilling from its left eye. And the disfigured eye socket, left a void to stare back at the old King. Who was this woman? And where on earth did she really come from?

Odysseus, who didn’t want to sit around so much. Began to dig a hole that would be used as a campfire to keep the flames low and unseen. He set up a cooking station, and by the time he finished Kalokairi returned.

“You’ve been busy.” She says to Odysseus.

“I can’t allow my guest to do all the work.” He says softly, stoking the fire.

“And yet my troubled friend, you shouldn’t need to worry to bid me with guestly greetings until you are situated back home.” Kalo stumbles gracefully on her words. It made Odysseus yet again crack a grin as he looked down at the fire.

“Then you may know my situation.” He hummed back. For Kalokairi had already scouted the town, and the palace from atop in the darkness.

“Men have entered your domain and feast in your palace. From what I’ve seen, they’re treating no respect to your home. Your wife, she hasn’t taken another match. For all I saw her do is weave a shroud in a corner occupied by no other man aside her maids. Your throne empty as if no one sat since you left for Troy.” She explains to him the details she scouted.

“You’re a dangerous girl.” Odysseus tittered softly. Her impression growing to be more respectable than he could ever plan. “Cunning, and quick.” Her likeness evolving as he learned how she worked, operated and her thought process. That even the great goddess of wisdom turned her head to peer toward this young warrior the Cherokee gods even favored back on continent. “Be careful among the Greek men, Kalokairi. They’d take great offense of a woman being to close to what a real man should entail.”

“All men are still men. Nothing different from back home.” She replied, and then turned to skin the stag, and soon put meat on skewers for their meal, and cooked a gentle herbed and vegetable stew.

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“What land did you say you came from?” Odysseus rose an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say where.” She takes a bite of the venison. Her hands washed in the waters of the sea. “I come from a place far away. We call it Turtle island, for it is believed that the land formed upon the back of a giant turtle during its creation.”

“A giant turtle?” Odysseus tilted his head. He let out a small laugh. “That be quite the sight.”

“We have murals dedicated to the story among a bunch of our tribes. It is known.” She nods, chewing her next bite. She didn’t show much decorum, but Odysseus didn’t mind.

“Not many woman know how to take down a whole stag without a bow. Not many woman do what you do at all.” He began taking small bites of the venison before his hunger began to eat away at his stomach. So he devoured the meat, the delicious taste making his mouth water. 

“Your Greek goddesses may be immortal, but they’re still woman. I take great likeness to the goddess Athena, although I am reading more about Artemis. She’s good at the hunt, I hope to honor her with this stag. Of course, I still need to learn more about how to properly do offerings in these lands.” She peered toward the remains of the skinned and dismembered stag. “So, why can’t mortal woman pick up a sword or a bow just as much as a man? Doesn’t it really tamper with pride to the point you’d lose all honor?”

“It’s very unheard of. But as eras transform, I’m sure the likelihood of woman fighters will progress.” He begins, spewing his thought as he continued to eat. “Us men wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if all the woman took to the sword more often though. Yet, there are the Amazon’s. You’d fit right in with them for sure.”

“Amazon’s….” Kalokairi trails. “Huh, I’ve heard someone mention them at the beginning of my time in Greece. But my Greek was very bad then.”

“Oh?“ Odysseus took a large bite of his stew now, as he had brung up his bowl.

“Someone said I terrified them. Thought I was one of the Amazon’s.” Kalo looked down at her bowl in her hands now, then she looks up to peer into his eyes. “These are fierce men and woman no?”

“There are no men.” He said bluntly, wiping away some broth from his lips. “Just very scary warrior woman. I’m glad throughout all the troubles that came my way, I didn’t have to deal with them too.”

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“Let us worship each other. Let me worship you.”

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love bugs <3

Telemachus x Kalokairi

[nohbdywrites]

A Telemachus FAN story. In the Epic Musical universe. Original character storyline.

CHAPTER TWO

This legendary stranger and Kalokairi glance to each other in silence as they take turns rowing. More so, Kalo who has noticed wounds of the famed Odysseus and basically said, “sit down I’ll do the rest,” whilst giving some of her clothing to use as bandage wraps.

“You’ll catch infection before we make it to your home.” She mutters. No wine or any other herbs on person to sterilize. But as her hands bleed through her own bandages, who was she to talk? This in turn made Odysseus who sits down trying his very best to find center raise an eyebrow even.

“I’ll be fine, but of course Poseidon would love to see me make it to my shores just to drop dead. What a beautiful sight it be for him.” He mocks.

Oh how Kalo raises an eyebrow herself. Twenty years away from home seems to make sense now. Messing with the sea god that reigns over these waters was the worst possible decision for sure, oh the stories that Odysseus could tell. But how in Hades is he still alive then?

“We both were so close to your homeland. Is he why the storm was wrought?” She questions him, her grip still tight against the makeshift oar.

“That’s a loaded question for sure.” Odysseus takes his time, her foreign accent bringing him some warmth of amusement. “If you’re asking for a story, maybe if you stick around Ithaca for a moment it can be told.”

Kalokairi notes his distance and understands to back off. If she was away from home; to where she sees he clearly hasn’t done it to stall himself and clearly hasn’t had a good time which she concluded, she’d want to keep it to herself for now too.

“I won’t pry.” She replies, a soft nod as she wades through the water. Sweat piling up, she knew this was going to be a journey in itself. But she will not let the great fabled King of Ithaca; master of deception for which he helped win the Trojan war row anymore than needed while injured. So silence took over, she made their way to Ithaca. The far land only hours away being blasted from course. Although, it was Odysseus who broke silence.

“You said far away was where you came from, your broken Greek is impressive. But, I’m sure you’ve only been here in Greece for a couple years?” He begins soft conversation. Kalokairi takes a few seconds to process but she manages just fine.

“A year and couple months.” Kalokairi adds. She takes a moment to let them sit in the waves. Her taking a break. “I’ve been on quite the journey, if I dare call it that.” Wiping away sweat she looks to him. He taking her in fully. A young woman, fair dark tanned skin. Piercing green eyes that could mesmerize any fair man, young and old. Her hair is was damp with sweat; yet her dark brown locks were messed with broken braids and bead; feathers threaded into her head. “But I won’t fail to get this deed done.”

“On a quest, for such a young woman alone like yourself?” He rose another brow. He couldn’t place such an age, not more than his twenty year old son possibly.

“Well, that storm did seem to kill most of the men I was on voyage with.” She thinned her lips. Their lives forever to be taken and trapped within the river of Styx if she’s read about the religion here correctly. Odysseus’ heart would have sank, but he is to numb with his loss. All the losses of his men, his friends. His comrades. His brothers.

“My condolences.” He says bluntly. Disassociation hitting him hard as he turns his head away.

“I didn’t know all of them to well, but they were good men.” She adds and goes back to rowing. “I’m afraid their stores will be lost though, just like their bodies within the deep.”

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More time rowing, and rowing and rowing. Her hands still bled but it wasn’t as if she’d lose enough to pass out from just that. The exertion though, that was pushing a brink. From the horizon as they hit the second hour, the tip of an island could be seen. The island known as the back washed western isle neighboring Kefalonia, was Ithaca. Its name known for copper and amber. The bare land, beaches and full forests. It is the home of the great King Odysseus, and his faithful wife Penelope of Ithaca; a princess of Sparta. Their son? To which Odysseus would think would be home was currently making his own way back from his own quest to find his father. His name was Telemachus, who leaned on his boat side with the injured goddess of wisdom at his shoulder in her owl form.

“Odysseus.” Kalokairi breathed heavily. “There.” And Odysseus looked on, for the second time today as Ithaca came into view. His body shuddered, his eyes dared to tear but he held back. Expecting disappointment, excepting to be ripped away yet again as a constant joke. So he just sat, solemn and Kalokairi furrowed her eyebrows. She didn’t comment on his lack of enthusiasm, so she treaded his emotions very lightly.

She continued to bring them closer, her body exhausted. Her mind still steady and calm. Odysseus sat, staring as Ithaca came closer, far more near than ever before. He was afraid if he put his feet in the sands of the shores he calls home, he’d wake up back in the home of Calypso still imprisoned against his will. Finally, as Kalokairi rowed her last strokes. The makeshift raft hit sand, she drives that sad excuse for a wooden oar into the lose sediments and steps off the raft. Her legs trembled, knees lock and she falls to the shore. Odysseus watches as if it wasn’t even real. For a moment, he just looks to the sand. Kalokairi looks back to him, her body beginning to feel rest.

Breathing less heavily, her lungs begin to soften. She looks to the king of Ithaca. The man who’s been gone from home for said twenty years, and furrows her eyebrows. “Sir.” She pauses, then gets up. “You’re here, you’ve made it.”

Odysseus held back his tears, the emotion he was trying desperately to set aside. So he stood up and took a deep breath in. Moving weakly while he took a step forward. His bare feet hitting the ground and then his other. The rush of so many different emotions hit, and just like that he realized how real this was. He collapsed, knees and hands hitting the sand, his fingers digging into the sediments of his homeland desperately so he wasn’t ripped away. Tears broke from his eyes, his body trembled and she heard it all. So, with honor she turned away. She let him cry without her eyes on him. She let him have his needed moment of reprieve, without the judgment of his pride. With a shaky breath, he then exclaimed. “I’m home.”

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Chapter Three

[nohbdywrites]

A Telemachus FAN story. In the Epic Musical universe. Original character storyline.

CHAPTER ONE

How do we put this in a perspective that’s not extravagant? Well - we can’t. For the girl held tightly to a mess of rocks with ocean water crashing back and forth while rough winds spit in her direction. Her boat, completely sideswiped. Her traveling acquaintances lost in the water while this harsh storm raged on. What a fucking mess. Her hair danced rapidly, the waters strike her feet as she clung on for dear life. This unfortunate woman was Kalokairi. A wonderer, and foreigner far from her home lands. Now in the western isles of Greece. She’s been here for a year now, on her way to accomplish works beyond any normal mortal ability to fathom and she was getting quite fed up with the constant possible tampering from the Greek Gods themselves. Of course she’d never let it be breathed out loud.

Behind this absolute horror of a wet, hardened and barren dance of the sea you’d think was completely and only Poseidon. But, in the eye of the storm another wander who’s been the gods plaything stuck a weapon of great power that was usually welded by the sea god, straight into his immortal chest getting his point quite literally across. He, was going, home.

“Fuck!” Kalokairi clung tightly to the rock as best she could. A song echoed of pain that only the ears of the rest of Gods could hear, aside the one who was dealing it with great pleasure. Hearing nothing but a sweet song sweep into his own.

One more strike. Her foot began to slip, her finger tips bled. Her face smashed tightly against the sharp rock. Then. Nothing.

Sun broke from the clouds above, the waters began to calm. The sea began to seem as if the temper tantrums never even occurred. Well, if you look closer you’ll see the damage and wreckage with carnage this storm wrought. Kalokairi hesitantly removed her face from stone and peered out to the ocean. Sun hit her emerald greens as she looked beyond. “By the greek gods… it’s over?”

Yes it was in fact over. For now Poseidon began to crawl to the sea, his hand reaching to the waters with an unbelievable, pathetic whine while his golden blood spilled from the repeated puncture wounds for the six hundred men slain. The injury of a man made mad. The viscous piggy back strength of that of another god in place to aid for his sister while she recovered, training another young warrior with blood the same as the last.

Odysseus, as he walks to the edge of this stone platform doomed fighting ring, will have his name rung across the times, by the Gods and by the mortals way past his time even after he crosses the Styx. He grabs a hold of debris, one fit to be an oar, and a larger peice that replaced his raft, and yet it will do its job just fine. For Odysseus was nothing but stubborn and willful. He will get back to his wife. He will hold his son in his arms again. He will reach the sands of his lands that he will fall to his knees on, familiar ground for the first time in twenty years. Home.

Kalokairi was strong and just as willful. She climbed up these rocks. Her hands numb due to the ravish of skin and rigid piece of stone. But she held on tightly to the top to peer out yet again to the sea. She desperately was hoping to spot land, to spot what could be left of her ship. Survivors, anything, anyone! But. There was nothing. She swore she saw land before that storm. They couldn’t have blown away that far, could they have? And with a new found word of the Greeks she’s grown to meet thus far, she let a word breathe from her lips “Maláka…”

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Swimming would be a burden to her body. Sharks in the water would smell her blood and eat her whole and she’d take the shark or multiple down with her. But she was smarter than being impulsive. Calculated, resourceful and very, very resilient. She held tightly to her sword hilt as she pressed her back against the rock. She took deep, slow breaths in steadying her body and keeping her energy reserved. The sun rays shined down on her as Apollo looked for a brief moment, rose and eyebrow before going back to making his melodies on his lyre, that is until Kalokairi began to him a soft melodic tone. Something sweet and angelic, something that would be divine. So, plucking is lyre one last time he looked down upon this girl and sat and listened.

Odysseus with his new makeshift raft rowed on. He grimaced in pain every single time he took the pathetic excuse for an oar to water. The resistance making his wounds throb. But, his resilience is legendary. For a mortal his strength could be considered near godlike too. His will the pinnacle example for a warrior of the mind. For all that has been thrown at him. He was just a man trying to get home to his wife and son. As he paddled on, from a distance he could see the wreck made by the storm. From the depths of the wreckage, Kalokairi’s song could be heard.

Odysseus’ eyes widened, was it a siren? Of course it has to be something else to prevent his journey home. But, this was different, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t it be? No bee wax, nor a need to keep coming closer. Just a song on the borderline of clam and sorrow. So he waded his way through. Slowly, pushing wood, supplies and belongings from the ships out of his way. Bodies floating, the smell of just death. His eyes scanned the blooded waters, sharks will be in this mess soon if they aren’t already. And still that voice it rings.

Kalokairi kept herself secure, keeping her mind clear. She continued one, closed eyes and solid constitution. At least for now.

“If you’re singing for the gods to help you out of this mess, I doubt you’ll get far.” A voice echoes across the water a couple yards away. Now, with her ears she heard broken speech with some words she did know. Her Greek, she was learning still. But she understood. A survivor? She shot her eyes open, and straightened her posture to look on. She met eyes with a man, disheveled and looked as if he hadn’t seen proper civilization in years. And yet, here he was. Standing with a poise that was far different from his exterior. Although he hid it well, Kalo could see past it. He was tired and hurt. And yet he didn’t need to stop here at all.

“I sing for my own pleasure, not for the sake of the gods my friend.” She spoke to him. Her Greek slow, but Odysseus cracked a grin. A foreigner was not what he was expecting to run into. Her Greek was understandable, but needed the work for sure.

“Where do you hail from?” Odysseus rose an eyebrow. His body beginning to ache yet again, his wounds still on fire but he fought to not look weak in this moment.

“Far, far away.” She replied. She looked down at his raft. “Did the storm cause you trouble too?”

“You could say that, and then some.” He huffed in grief of his past experience. For the reason the storm broke open. He was the one who opened the bag this time, and now her and the people she was with are dead in the water and or stranded. “My homeland, it isn’t far. But I have room here. Join me, no one will be coming for some time I’m sure.”

“Homeland?” She cocked her head, her grip on this rock getting more and more uncomfortable. “You hail from Ithaca then?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Home I haven’t seen for quite some time.”

Kalokairi’s eyes lit up. She’s heard the stories, the stories of the Ithacan men who went to war with their King. The men who never returned all these years. Was he one of those men? Or….?

“Are you, the man who reigns over Ithaca?” She stands straighter, hanging off the rocks now with rushed adrenaline excitement. A legend possible before her very eyes. “Are you the fabled Odysseus?”

She was sharp, and Odysseus respected her quick calculation. So he cracked an even bigger grin. “I guess I have built quite the reputation then, have I?”

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Chapter Two

[nohbdywrites]

Reference used below.

Wedding Night

Telemachus is a yearner for sure~

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Wedding Night

Telemachus is a yearner for sure~

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prince & warrior

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fuck me sideways my art style is changing yet again

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Prince Telemachus of Ithaca and his wife; princess Kalokiari.

Kalo.

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Kalokairi wips~

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Odysseus during the Circe Saga.

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ODYSSEUS OF ITHACA

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Guys. I did.

Guys. I might change the name of my Telemachus story. 🙃