TW: jumping on the manwhore au but aftermath, discussion of S/A, read carefully.
Three weeks pass.
Odysseus is carried through them with ecstasy and joy, reuniting and grieving and laughing and rearranging.
But then everything settles down, and-
It was him who'd ordered it. Ordered owls to be carved into every free inch of Ithaka, coveted shipments of the secretive birds for his personal menagerie, sold trinkets in the market. Made no secret of who favoured them, when he had half the houses painted blue.
But now every step he takes in his own home haunts him.
He cannot so much as look to the side before feeling the urge to flinch away, shame growing inside of him until it chokes him up. Cannot look at any owls. Cannot look at any of his men.