Names can be masks; the true face is shown in deeds

"I know, my darling," Tabris says, eyes a deep crimson when they open once more. He draws their joined hands together, then presses his lips to the back of Odysseus' sun-kissed hand.

"It's your happiness that makes it so easy to choose, isn't that so?"

He doesn't condemn it, though. Tabris feels fulfilled simply observing what's in front of him, and it's made even more poignant by how much Odysseus has changed in the years that've passed. He squeezes the man's hand (strong and firm despite the slender appearance of his own fingers), marvelling at the beauty of him. Happiness is a kind of freedom too, in a way, and Tabris is grateful to be at Odysseus' side as he experiences it.

"I wonder," he starts, absently playing with Odysseus' fingers, "would it be as easy if we were suffering instead?"

In the face of an uncaring prophecy, Odysseus chose to care for the men that followed him.

"If it hurt to love me, Odysseus, would you love me still as I love you?"

Odysseus finds it's hard to care for the lotus in his palm as Tabris so gently rubs the pads of his fingers over his own calloused digits. As Tabris delicately rubs Odysseus's knuckles, a long forgotten tension leaves his muscles and he almost drifts off as he focuses on nothing but the other man.

The human raises his head slightly as the other speaks of suffering and hurt.

His lips pull downwards as he he attempts to read Tabris's own expression, wanting nothing more than to figure out where these questions could be coming from.

"Why would loving you hurt? Why must there be any suffering?"

His voice is small as he asks, but the concern in it is far from hidden. For all that he can remember, he knows nothing of contentment and happiness and love from both Tabris and Callypso.

Why would Tabris think of anything but?

One of the most defiant men to live in the world of humans has chosen him over his own comfort. Tabris entertains the possibility of telling Odysseus that he came from the Titanomachy, but instead leans in to rest his head on the man's shoulder. Whether he's a god or not doesn't matter in this world; it didn't matter back then, either, during the man's journey to escape his fate.

"That's what love is to humans, isn't it?"

Despite the melodic lilt to Tabris' voice, the question is sincere. He knows what love is between those like him, but humans operate on such a fundamentally different level. All these years at Odysseus' side and Tabris still doesn't understand, but he doesn't have to to know that what the human feels is beautiful.

"Choosing each other above all else. Not because of fate, but because you will it."

Tabris' eyes shut, and his tone is peaceful.

"If one day the gods waged war against humanity, I would try to save you. Because you choose me, too."

While Odysseus doesn't understand why Tabris is speaking of war against the gods or referring to humans as if he were not one, he knows that he loves the man enough simply to accept whatever his intentions may be.

The love he has for him is so vast that once he feels the weight of the other's head on his shoulder, the lotus means nothing to him.

Instead, Odysseus closes his eyes and settles his head against Tabris's, allowing a warm sigh of contentment to fall from his nostrils. He enjoys this closeness with Tabris. Once again, the intent of such an action evades him, but the surviving captain accepts it for whatever it is.

"I'm happy," he utters gently, uncertain as to why he has to put it to words. "With you and Calypso. I'm really happy."

Despite having no memories to compare his happiness to, he knows it's a true sense of happiness his heart hasn't known yet.

So much of what is good about humans, Odysseus attributes to the gods. It's a far cry from the man that he was when Tabris had first found him-- happy to thank the gods, yes, but aware of the power of man.

He can't say he misses that version of him. Odysseus is the culmination of every facet of himself Tabris has seen, after all, even if the lotus has hidden some of his selves away.

So the declaration of love makes him smile. He reaches out, taking Odysseus' free hand hostage, and twines their fingers together.

"Do you still love me even after I've taken away your hand for eating?" Now he's teasing. Mostly, though, he wants to feel Odysseus' skin, warm and alive under this perpetually kind sun.

"What would you pick, Odysseus? The lotus, or me?"

"You."

The word comes out certainly, unsure of why there'd be any reason to pick between the two options.

In fact, he's almost confused by how certain he is in his decision to choose the man holding his hand. Perhaps it's how tender the touch is in his own that solidifies the outcome, or perhaps it's how gentle he is with him on a daily basis.

Regardless, he's grateful for Tabris's existence in his life.

There's a faint uptick of the corner of his lips as he utters a sure, "Fortunately, I don't have to pick."

He brings the lotus up to his lips and takes hold of a petal between his teeth, tugging gently to get the piece off of the whole. It's imperfect in his attempt, but successful nonetheless.

The smile on his lips is good-humored as he chews the petal.

"If I did have to, you know, it'd be you."

Tabris hums, head turning away simply so he could look up at the sky. The sound is long and low, and clearly thoughtful.

He's been walking amongst humans for so long. It's complex enough that he's not sure what to pick-- or, perhaps more pressingly, what he could say that would make sense to Odysseus the way he is now.

"I love music," he decides to say. "Of all the things that humans could have made after Athena's blessing, I think that's the loveliest of all.

"It captures so much. A melody could say more than any word ever could, don't you think?"

Tabris' gaze returns to Odysseus' face, and he admires the curiosity in it.

"I love sharing meals. I love the bonds humans make. I love the gift of fire.

"And I love you, but you already know that."

"The Gods are kind to us," Odysseus states matter-of-factly, nibbling on another petal of the lotus. "Prometheus's sacrifice was a kindness that cannot be matched, as well."

It's easy to think about the blessings that have been bestowed upon humanity, but at the mention of the affections aimed towards himself, Odysseus momentarily forgets about the flower in his palm smiles fondly up at Tabris.

"I love you, too."

It's not the first time he's heard Tabris state such a thing to him, it's true. And it's not the first time he's reciprocated the sentiment. Perhaps he's uncertain as to what type of love it's meant to be, and yet, it matters not.

All he knows is that Tabris loves him and he loves Tabris.

The semantics don't bother him in the sligthest.

Tabris could will this petal to taste like anything he wanted. The food is deathly plain-- nothing like the scraps of ambrosia he's had from his siblings-- but it's the salt on Odysseus' fingers that he lingers on. The touch of his tongue to the man's skin had been brief, but it had been enough; war had given him such calluses, and yet he still found it in his heart to be kind.

Tabris swallows, taking Odysseus' kindness into his soul.

"I love it," he says, crimson eyes never leaving Odysseus' face.

"Though that might just be because you love it. It's hard to argue with that kind of conviction."

He smiles.

"You could make me love anything."

Odysseus feels his heart warm as Tabris speaks of loving the lotus as well, though, he can't help the confusion that settles in it at the mention of loving it because he himself loves it.

He almost asks what he means by it, but the inquiry dies on his tongue as he swallows the petal that had sat on it for the moment.

"What do you love?"

The question is simple, but meaningful nonetheless.

He can't help but realize that Tabris seems to appreciate what Odysseus does, but the man wants to know the other better.

"Perhaps you can share it with me, too?"

Odysseus is so gentle, like this, nothing at all like the war commander he was on the voyage that took him here. Tabris could touch the side of his face and Odysseus wouldn't flinch away, but in respect to the man that he remembers, he doesn't let the touch linger for more than a moment.

"Would you feed me some?" he asks, allowing his hand to settle once more in the sand by his leg. It does not matter that Tabris has already tasted it before.

"I want to enjoy this with you. If you're willing to share."

Odysseus offers a fond nod and pulls off a couple of petals. He raises his fingers towards Tabris's lips with no thought but to share his favorite food with someone he's seemingly grown attached to. Whether the man takes it from him by hand or mouth, it matters not.

The only thing on the lost king's mind is that he hopes Tabris enjoys it as much as he does.

Once Tabris consumes it, Odysseus pulls off a petal for himself to eat, a look of contentment over his own features.

"Do you like it?"

@the-odyssea, unprompted.

"You seem to enjoy it," Tabris says, watching as Odysseus pushes petal after petal of lotus into his mouth. Calypso could pull anything from the sea and still Odysseus would crave it, as if there were a space in his belly only for this plant.

It's absolutely fascinating.

"What does it taste like?"

Tabris has had it, of course. And it did nothing to him, of course. All these years amongst humans and still his body was as strong as it was when he'd first been born from the corpse of a Titan.

"Describe it to me," he says, if only to hear Odysseus' voice speak of something he loves. Reaching out, Tabris brushes the hair out of Odysseus' face and tucks it over his ear.