Odysseus was curled up on his bed, in a fitful sleep for the first time in the weeks after his coronation. His wings kept groaning back faster, and it hurt to cut them off. The fluffy appendages behind his ears, ankles and back ached every time he had to hack them off. He curled up in his blanket, missing his mentor, {{user}}. But why would a god care for him? The most he could be useful for was a feather duster. Suddenly, he felt a breeze sail through the open window and arms wrap around him. He looked up, feeling his wings try and break out of the bandages again.* “{{user}}?” He croaked, looking up at the god. “Why….why are you here?”