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It took quite a long time and all of his own effort, but he finally had the temple livable. He’d long abandoned the hut he’d once shared with his fellows, Mellion and Typhian, both of whom were now dead. Mellion due to Captain Sophos’s rage and Typhian from a sword wound when the Aceton raided another vessel. Lukos had all but abandoned the village and especially Billa and Skylla’s home. He would come down from his ‘perch’ as Sophos called it when he was meant to do work or for bonfires that happened to be going on on the beach, but as far as being ‘taken care of’, no one was doing that for him anymore.
A young man of 19, he washed his own clothes, made his own food, and kept to himself. The island had become a near burdensome place to be, with Sophos’s moods swinging as wildly as Poseidon’s. Most of the men steered clear if they could and only when Sophos was deep in his cups was he ever what someone might call ‘friendly’. It was when he was sober that people kept clear of him.
Since the ‘incident’, as Lukos hadn’t approached Skylla at all for anything of that sort. He’d begun to treat the incident like it didn’t happen but nor did he chase her anymore. She could be as mean to him as she wanted to be and he rarely rose to the occasion. He wasn’t guilt laden, nor sulking. It just became clear that whatever childhood fondness might have sort of existed, it was thoroughly broken. They weren’t friends, they weren’t playmates anymore, and they certainly weren’t lovers. So far as he was concerned, she was an island brat and he treated her about like Sophos did - which was to tell her to get out of his way if she was in it.
Tonight, though, rather than being up in the temple, he was sitting in the sand, a bottle of wine in hand, watching the flames of a huge bonfire flicker and dance. Shadows danced around it and drums pounded into the night. He was warm and comfortable and barefoot. His feet were half buried in the sand and his eyes trailed after one of the island wives as she bent over to pick up her husband’s empty cup. He sighed to himself and returned his gaze to the fire.
It was really too bad the island didn’t have whores, he thought for the millionth and a half time. He knew right where he’d put them, too. Where this bonfire sat, well away from the village, was on a strip of sand that cut off abruptly at the trees behind him. Between the bonfire and the village was a large swath of nothing. There was more room for ramshackle houses. If Captain Sophos had any vision, he could expand...but Sophos was growing paranoid and had stopped taking on new sailors long ago. Lukos eyed the place where he imagined a whore house should go and sighed again.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It took quite a long time and all of his own effort, but he finally had the temple livable. He’d long abandoned the hut he’d once shared with his fellows, Mellion and Typhian, both of whom were now dead. Mellion due to Captain Sophos’s rage and Typhian from a sword wound when the Aceton raided another vessel. Lukos had all but abandoned the village and especially Billa and Skylla’s home. He would come down from his ‘perch’ as Sophos called it when he was meant to do work or for bonfires that happened to be going on on the beach, but as far as being ‘taken care of’, no one was doing that for him anymore.
A young man of 19, he washed his own clothes, made his own food, and kept to himself. The island had become a near burdensome place to be, with Sophos’s moods swinging as wildly as Poseidon’s. Most of the men steered clear if they could and only when Sophos was deep in his cups was he ever what someone might call ‘friendly’. It was when he was sober that people kept clear of him.
Since the ‘incident’, as Lukos hadn’t approached Skylla at all for anything of that sort. He’d begun to treat the incident like it didn’t happen but nor did he chase her anymore. She could be as mean to him as she wanted to be and he rarely rose to the occasion. He wasn’t guilt laden, nor sulking. It just became clear that whatever childhood fondness might have sort of existed, it was thoroughly broken. They weren’t friends, they weren’t playmates anymore, and they certainly weren’t lovers. So far as he was concerned, she was an island brat and he treated her about like Sophos did - which was to tell her to get out of his way if she was in it.
Tonight, though, rather than being up in the temple, he was sitting in the sand, a bottle of wine in hand, watching the flames of a huge bonfire flicker and dance. Shadows danced around it and drums pounded into the night. He was warm and comfortable and barefoot. His feet were half buried in the sand and his eyes trailed after one of the island wives as she bent over to pick up her husband’s empty cup. He sighed to himself and returned his gaze to the fire.
It was really too bad the island didn’t have whores, he thought for the millionth and a half time. He knew right where he’d put them, too. Where this bonfire sat, well away from the village, was on a strip of sand that cut off abruptly at the trees behind him. Between the bonfire and the village was a large swath of nothing. There was more room for ramshackle houses. If Captain Sophos had any vision, he could expand...but Sophos was growing paranoid and had stopped taking on new sailors long ago. Lukos eyed the place where he imagined a whore house should go and sighed again.
It took quite a long time and all of his own effort, but he finally had the temple livable. He’d long abandoned the hut he’d once shared with his fellows, Mellion and Typhian, both of whom were now dead. Mellion due to Captain Sophos’s rage and Typhian from a sword wound when the Aceton raided another vessel. Lukos had all but abandoned the village and especially Billa and Skylla’s home. He would come down from his ‘perch’ as Sophos called it when he was meant to do work or for bonfires that happened to be going on on the beach, but as far as being ‘taken care of’, no one was doing that for him anymore.
A young man of 19, he washed his own clothes, made his own food, and kept to himself. The island had become a near burdensome place to be, with Sophos’s moods swinging as wildly as Poseidon’s. Most of the men steered clear if they could and only when Sophos was deep in his cups was he ever what someone might call ‘friendly’. It was when he was sober that people kept clear of him.
Since the ‘incident’, as Lukos hadn’t approached Skylla at all for anything of that sort. He’d begun to treat the incident like it didn’t happen but nor did he chase her anymore. She could be as mean to him as she wanted to be and he rarely rose to the occasion. He wasn’t guilt laden, nor sulking. It just became clear that whatever childhood fondness might have sort of existed, it was thoroughly broken. They weren’t friends, they weren’t playmates anymore, and they certainly weren’t lovers. So far as he was concerned, she was an island brat and he treated her about like Sophos did - which was to tell her to get out of his way if she was in it.
Tonight, though, rather than being up in the temple, he was sitting in the sand, a bottle of wine in hand, watching the flames of a huge bonfire flicker and dance. Shadows danced around it and drums pounded into the night. He was warm and comfortable and barefoot. His feet were half buried in the sand and his eyes trailed after one of the island wives as she bent over to pick up her husband’s empty cup. He sighed to himself and returned his gaze to the fire.
It was really too bad the island didn’t have whores, he thought for the millionth and a half time. He knew right where he’d put them, too. Where this bonfire sat, well away from the village, was on a strip of sand that cut off abruptly at the trees behind him. Between the bonfire and the village was a large swath of nothing. There was more room for ramshackle houses. If Captain Sophos had any vision, he could expand...but Sophos was growing paranoid and had stopped taking on new sailors long ago. Lukos eyed the place where he imagined a whore house should go and sighed again.
Skylla didn't know what she had done to make him avoid her, but she had been stewing on it for over a year. It was infuriating. He didn't entirely avoid her. He'd yell at her if she was in the way, which she rarely was. Maybe she could get a few words out of him, but it wasn't often. But this was growing to be the last straw. Long bored of the boy she had been fooling around with, Skylla had slowly grown into her own. An absolute bitch, but one obsessed with learning her mother's trade, Skylla had started making a name for herself on the island. Not for being a brat, but for being a skilled healer beside her mother.
It was the only thing she felt she could contribute to the island, so it was the one thing she decided that she would put her all into. Tonight, however, Skylla wasn't working. Work was the furthest thing from her mind... because it was her birthday, and at 17, she was finally old enough to join in on the bonfires that the rest of the island adults put on. The drinking, the women or men getting handsy, the dancing.
Her mother, sentimental as always when it came to her daughter, had spent part of the afternoon weaving little flowers into Skylla's dark, wild curls. They made her dark eyes look somewhat brighter and sharpened her features. Skylla felt like what she imagined a princess felt like. Except she was the princess of a far off island that literally no one knew about.
Brushing her fingers down the front of her yellow chiton, she had forgone her himation, wanting to enjoy the heat of the fire as she walked up to join. One of the other girls, just a little older than her, shouted a loud, "Happy birthday, Skylla!" across the fire, and then went back to sharing a drink with one of the island boys. Skylla smiled a little and shrugged, looking around the circle and finally letting her gaze land on Lukos. Frowning for just a moment, she considered it, almost told herself no, and then decidedly strode across the sand and sunk down beside Lukos.
"Are you going to share your wine?" Skylla asked in greeting, turning her body slightly so that she could face Lukos. Her body had filled out even more since they had tumbled through the grass together. Her breasts had grown fuller, her hips the same. The baby fat on her jaw had long disappeared, replaced by a sharper jaw and eyes that missed nothing. There was an urge to reach up to play with Lukos' long curls, but for now, the birthday girl kept her hands to herself.
It was almost an insult that he hadn't approached her again. Maybe she hadn't liked it that time, but she could have liked it other times if he'd just come back for more. So what had she said to make him cower away from people like a kicked puppy? She desperately wanted to know, unsure where she stood with her old playmate even as she reached a hand out, expecting him to share his wine with her.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Skylla didn't know what she had done to make him avoid her, but she had been stewing on it for over a year. It was infuriating. He didn't entirely avoid her. He'd yell at her if she was in the way, which she rarely was. Maybe she could get a few words out of him, but it wasn't often. But this was growing to be the last straw. Long bored of the boy she had been fooling around with, Skylla had slowly grown into her own. An absolute bitch, but one obsessed with learning her mother's trade, Skylla had started making a name for herself on the island. Not for being a brat, but for being a skilled healer beside her mother.
It was the only thing she felt she could contribute to the island, so it was the one thing she decided that she would put her all into. Tonight, however, Skylla wasn't working. Work was the furthest thing from her mind... because it was her birthday, and at 17, she was finally old enough to join in on the bonfires that the rest of the island adults put on. The drinking, the women or men getting handsy, the dancing.
Her mother, sentimental as always when it came to her daughter, had spent part of the afternoon weaving little flowers into Skylla's dark, wild curls. They made her dark eyes look somewhat brighter and sharpened her features. Skylla felt like what she imagined a princess felt like. Except she was the princess of a far off island that literally no one knew about.
Brushing her fingers down the front of her yellow chiton, she had forgone her himation, wanting to enjoy the heat of the fire as she walked up to join. One of the other girls, just a little older than her, shouted a loud, "Happy birthday, Skylla!" across the fire, and then went back to sharing a drink with one of the island boys. Skylla smiled a little and shrugged, looking around the circle and finally letting her gaze land on Lukos. Frowning for just a moment, she considered it, almost told herself no, and then decidedly strode across the sand and sunk down beside Lukos.
"Are you going to share your wine?" Skylla asked in greeting, turning her body slightly so that she could face Lukos. Her body had filled out even more since they had tumbled through the grass together. Her breasts had grown fuller, her hips the same. The baby fat on her jaw had long disappeared, replaced by a sharper jaw and eyes that missed nothing. There was an urge to reach up to play with Lukos' long curls, but for now, the birthday girl kept her hands to herself.
It was almost an insult that he hadn't approached her again. Maybe she hadn't liked it that time, but she could have liked it other times if he'd just come back for more. So what had she said to make him cower away from people like a kicked puppy? She desperately wanted to know, unsure where she stood with her old playmate even as she reached a hand out, expecting him to share his wine with her.
Skylla didn't know what she had done to make him avoid her, but she had been stewing on it for over a year. It was infuriating. He didn't entirely avoid her. He'd yell at her if she was in the way, which she rarely was. Maybe she could get a few words out of him, but it wasn't often. But this was growing to be the last straw. Long bored of the boy she had been fooling around with, Skylla had slowly grown into her own. An absolute bitch, but one obsessed with learning her mother's trade, Skylla had started making a name for herself on the island. Not for being a brat, but for being a skilled healer beside her mother.
It was the only thing she felt she could contribute to the island, so it was the one thing she decided that she would put her all into. Tonight, however, Skylla wasn't working. Work was the furthest thing from her mind... because it was her birthday, and at 17, she was finally old enough to join in on the bonfires that the rest of the island adults put on. The drinking, the women or men getting handsy, the dancing.
Her mother, sentimental as always when it came to her daughter, had spent part of the afternoon weaving little flowers into Skylla's dark, wild curls. They made her dark eyes look somewhat brighter and sharpened her features. Skylla felt like what she imagined a princess felt like. Except she was the princess of a far off island that literally no one knew about.
Brushing her fingers down the front of her yellow chiton, she had forgone her himation, wanting to enjoy the heat of the fire as she walked up to join. One of the other girls, just a little older than her, shouted a loud, "Happy birthday, Skylla!" across the fire, and then went back to sharing a drink with one of the island boys. Skylla smiled a little and shrugged, looking around the circle and finally letting her gaze land on Lukos. Frowning for just a moment, she considered it, almost told herself no, and then decidedly strode across the sand and sunk down beside Lukos.
"Are you going to share your wine?" Skylla asked in greeting, turning her body slightly so that she could face Lukos. Her body had filled out even more since they had tumbled through the grass together. Her breasts had grown fuller, her hips the same. The baby fat on her jaw had long disappeared, replaced by a sharper jaw and eyes that missed nothing. There was an urge to reach up to play with Lukos' long curls, but for now, the birthday girl kept her hands to herself.
It was almost an insult that he hadn't approached her again. Maybe she hadn't liked it that time, but she could have liked it other times if he'd just come back for more. So what had she said to make him cower away from people like a kicked puppy? She desperately wanted to know, unsure where she stood with her old playmate even as she reached a hand out, expecting him to share his wine with her.
