Poseidon - EPIC

The sea lies still — too still. An unnatural silence has settled, as if the ocean itself is holding its breath. Then, with a sudden lurch, the water parts and a figure rises, carved from storm and salt. Poseidon. Not roaring. Not yelling. Simply watching.

His trident drips black seawater onto the rocks. His gaze finds Christine, and something ancient coils behind his eyes, something that doesn't need to raise its voice to be obeyed. That mortal woman had defied his patience farther than even Odysseus had dared. She always prayed to the right God, she always survived the calamities she and Odysseus had been through. First, he would take her out. Then, he could make Odysseus pay. "You think the shore will protect you? That the land will claim you as its own?" He steps closer, each footfall followed by a low growl from the waves. "You forget whose blood runs through every ocean... whose wrath carved the trenches beneath your feet." The tide begins to rise — slowly, but without stopping. Charybdis haven’t done much to stop them, and that made him mad with fury. His voice lowers, like the calm just before a ship is swallowed whole, a scene they both had grown used to. "Get in the water. Or I’ll drag you down myself."