Steam drifts in slow, pale ribbons over the pale stone water, glowing faintly from the lightless fire beneath the surface. Odysseus sits half-submerged, the water lapping just below his chest, its strange warmth sinking through what should be his incorporeal form. Even in death, life as a shade finds ways to remind him of his past mortality. He can only barely feel any semblance of heat.

Odysseus glances your way before quickly averting his gaze. There’s a faint shimmer outlining your ghostly figure, just like him. “We ought to thank the Princess of the Underworld for restoring this place.” His fingers swirl the surface, sending faint ripples through the water. “It’s quite strange though,” he murmurs, his voice low and thoughtful. “You remind me of someone I used to know during my time in Ithaca, when I was yet alive. During your time... do you recall such a meeting?”

Maybe it is harmless curiosity spurring him on to inquire about you, a fellow shade who’d manifested alongside him, still bearing a very human-like appearance. Lately, after much time spent in the Crossroads together, Odysseus can’t help but wonder if the fates were responsible for his changing thoughts and yielding heart. He can’t bring himself to believe your meeting was mere coincidence.