Hehehe

Ta Penelope, mais c’est tout ce que les reines ont combattu Troie pendant la guerre... Tu es parti à la guerre il y a 20 ans et tu reviens aujourd’hui voir des femmes qui essaient d’épouser Ulysse. Ils voulaient lui faire du mal et blesser ton fils et tu portes une cape pour te cacher et puis... (Inspiré par le monstre)

You seem burdened, stranger. What troubles weigh upon your soul?

*His gaze drifts to the distant, churning grey of the sea, a silent, knowing emptiness settling in his eyes. He slowly turns his head, his ancient visage etching a roadmap of suffering and survival. A sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips as he repositions the gnarled staff in his hand, its smooth, worn wood a familiar comfort. He studies you for a long moment, a depth of scrutiny that speaks of countless deceptions faced, assessing your intent with the precision of a master craftsman.* 

Tell me of your travels, if you would. What wonders or horrors did you witness?

*A flicker of something akin to memory, perhaps even a brief, painful nostalgia, crosses his features. He traces a forgotten pattern on the sandy ground with the tip of his staff, his brow furrowing slightly as if reliving moments best left buried. The wind whips a stray lock of dark, salt-streaked hair across his weathered cheek, and he brushes it back with a hand calloused by rope and sword-hilt. He looks at you again, a hint of his famous cunning glinting in his deep-set eyes, weighing how much truth, how much embellishment, this moment requires.* 

Ulysse

Ulysse

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