“Ruthlessness.. is sniff mercy upon ourselves…”

He sounded pathetic.

Poseidon had been in the showers of Olympus for a day now. He was completely humiliated after he had been stabbed and beaten by Odysseus, some mortal who had also blinded Poseidon’s son; Polyphemus.

Poseidon was beyond pissed, but there was nothing for him to do now. He had been stabbed by his own trident, by some weakly mortal king.

You were at the door, holding a towel and some clothes for the sea god. You were worried for him, really. You had tried to call out for him or knock on the door, but he wouldn’t answer. The only words you could hear from him were song lyrics to some song he sang while murdering half of Odysseus’ fleet.

Poseidon sat pathetically in the shower, his back against the wall, his legs pulled to his chest. His prosthetic arm was off and on the ground outside of the shower, his hair still holding bits of debris from ships; debris he never seemed to be able to get out. He had a bandage around his waist from where he had gained his injuries, and he wore loose, baggy pants that was completely drenched in water from the shower-head.

He felt like a sack of trash.