— turncoat.

[hephaestusgalani]

𝐇𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐈 / 𝐂𝐅𝐎 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

about. skeleton. wanted connections.

[hephaestusgalani]

apvlllo​:

–

The ocean is peaceful. Even as they move it feels like a gentle rock to his already swaying inebriated mind. He lets his eyes close and he listens to Hephaestus words. How cruel to be mocked like this, he thinks. His heart already aches and he doesn’t want to listen to the other laugh at him.

But he has no energy to cry or make a fuss. He really only has the energy for the truth, or the lack there of, which has been churning inside of him.

“You’re not here, though. That’s the point.” His head is tipped back and his eyes are still closed and he’s speaking to the stars now. Surely they make more sense than these two on this boat. “I just keep wondering if this is why you have pushed me away. Made me think you hate me.” Now that he’s started, he has a hard time stopping. “And then I wonder why I care so much. Why should it matter to me who you love? I mean, it makes no sense. My father is… well, he’s the man he is and I don’t know what love looks like on him. But why does it matter. I guess I just hope it’s worth it, and that you’re happy. At least if you’re happy that will bring some ounce of comfort that all of this was worth it for you. And I’m a fully grown man who can move on from whatever it is inside of me that I can’t understand.”

-

His first instinct is solace - it’s a ridiculous assumption, more than Apollo realizes, that this supposed affair was the reason for their distance, for his silence. It would be giving Hephaestus too much credit, than to give his cowardice light, as he had initially, that he almost feels compelled to play along, say yes - this is why. This is it. It’d be easy.

But Apollo continues, and Hephaestus lets him - figures it’s the very least he can do, shut his mouth, let Apollo feel as fully as he does. He furrows his brows, his mind a flurry. “You’re saying if it weren’t me, you wouldn’t… care as you do?” It feels like a riddle left for him to decipher. “I mean – I.” Chaos’ sake, he’d not anticipated any bit of this, and he grasps for words. “Happy is – a complicated word for it. Or perhaps too simple. I really don’t know what’s – next, now that it’s all been flung into the aether, all of that business. It feels a bit like a boat adrift.” He shrugs helplessly, leans on the railing. 

“What exactly are you having trouble understanding? Are you sure it’s not.. betrayal, you’re feeling? I wouldn’t blame you for it.”

[hephaestusgalani]

zagreusrhea​:

-

Hephaestus is really going through it, that much is evident. More self-deprecating their tone than ever, a touch pathetic but in an endearing way. Same way you would think of a wounded woodland creature. A baby fawn, perhaps. Zagreus pushes down the sunglasses he’s wearing (Middle of the night? Don’t care.) at the mention of love. If it really was for love, why did he feel like his love had to live in the shadows? “I believe you,” he says earnestly nonetheless. At the end of the day, he is a romantic at heart. He holds up the noodle as if to say ’do you want the pool noodle?’ and then gives it to Hephaestus anyway. “I think I’ve learned you can’t really control when the truth comes out, it just does. My cousins have known something was broken for a long time - and now they have someone to blame.”  He doesn’t speak to how fair or unfair this is, he just slowly begins his journey to Aristurtle, at the other end of the pool. Zag has just the thing to perk Hephaestus up.

“What’s your side of the story here? I feel like you deserve the chance to tell it once, tell it right.” Does he wish he had done it differently? Not done it at all?

Strangely, Zagreus’ validation feels soothing, and Hephaestus smiles, splashes meekly in the Rhea’s direction with the tips of his fingers in thanks and, confused, takes the pool noodle, and. Holds it. “Right. Aff–Matters of the heart bide their own time. It’s easy to assume one has control, but.” He shrugs, closes his eyes, and lets himself float on his back on the water, still holding the noodle. “I suppose they should have one.”

“My side?” Oh, Chaos. What is his side supposed to be? He didn’t expect to be asked this, by anyone, but leave it to Zagreus to be disarming. “I, um. Well, it was never a question, for me. I think I always have. Even before he met Hera. I think. The whole of him swallows you, makes every moment feel like a triumph, it was all hopeless for me.” That bit, about Zeus, that is true. “For years, I kept it to myself, happy to. But, I think he realized, but we never spoke about it. And, um, when it started, it was.” Shit. Does he commit to a time, a date? “It felt natural. When we’d been drinking one night, I don’t remember who initiated it. But I couldn’t dream of stopping it once it started. That wasn’t until later.”

He keeps his eyes shut. Really, he has no idea how believable any of it sounded, doesn’t know how sympathetic it is - doesn’t matter if it is, all it has to be is plausible.

[hephaestusgalani]

sccylla​:

where — ceto, lab 69 when — first week of kalavria, pre circe & heph presentation with — @hephaestusgalani​​

Scylla has her inhibitions, when it comes to Scalpel’s acquisition by Aegean Waters. It’s pride, mostly, a stubborn opposition to sharing what is hers and her team’s, but everything is a money game, in the end. Not that she’s particularly moved by drax, either ( everyone can get their hands on drax: not everyone can do what she does ), but … money does buy very beautiful labs. And the one reserved for Scalpel, down in Ceto, it continues to slightly stir Scylla every time she steps foot inside it. 

Hers. Mostly. Partly. She lays claim to it, though: as one of Scalpel’s oldest members and one with some of the deepest knowledge, she thinks it her queendom. Even if it’s part of a larger kingdom. Even if the door says Aegean Waters. In the end, does it matter, though, whose name is on the door? It’s her, who’s pouring over code, who’s finessing, who’s doing the work. There are noise-cancelling headphones clamped over her ears, eyes intensely staring at her computer screen, eyes flicking over to the holo next to it every time she hits the enter key to make note of the minuscule changes.

She hates working on fake bodies, those made of blue-light and technology. But this is hardly the time for questionable actions, even she knows that, so she toes the line. She works, loses herself in hyperfocus. And, inevitably, she is interrupted. Startled, even. There is Hephaestus Galani, behind the glow of the hologram. Just … standing there, like some box-shaped apparation. Scylla takes off her headphones, shaking off the bout of surprise that had taken hold of her body. “Hello.” It’s almost a question, this greeting. “Sorry, I was focused. Is everything alright?” There’s a click of some buttons and the Holo disappears, her screen dies. Scylla thinks she should be more welcoming and polite, considering this is her lab, but she’d been getting somewhere and struggles to readjust to whatever this is supposed to be. “Did you need me for something?” 

-

The labs have a cold veneer to them that most would find inhospitable; tours never linger too long down here, and in the beginning, he never did either. But Poseidon was frequently down here, and he grew to find it homey, even when he was visiting from Olympe, taking to his notes and his emails as the Rhea built his empire under a microscope. But he’s not here for Poseidon now, who he hopes to be elsewhere - he’s here to fully examine that which Aegean has taken on. Who, they’ve taken on. 

Of course, he’s done his research, enough of it, on Scalpel, on its rocky beginnings, the miasma of image issues, and most recently, on Scylla. A brilliant scientist, there wasn’t denying any of that, but particular searches have led him to some benign, Cronus-shaped rabbit holes. Nothing particularly out of left field for someone of her caliber, of her study, but... it is a peculiar thing, to read praise of Cronus and not have it be a distant thing to tune out. 

“Hello, Scylla.” He’d muttered something in greeting earlier already, but she presumably had not heard. He feels too big, too long for the space that is undoubtedly hers. “No, no. Nothing needed. Just thought I’d come by, see the Scalpel space - I never got the chance to see it.” He loathes small-talk, but he’s just as sure she does too. “What was it you were just working on, if I may ask?”

[hephaestusgalani]

alectocarrion​:

“Maybe some water, then?” Alecto knew all too well the shaky hands that came with consuming too much caffeine. To somebody like her – ever moving, it never mattered. But to somebody like Hephaestus? Somebody who held importance, especially within this realm, it was different. 

They watch as he sets his pen aside. They clasp their hands in front of them, thumbs pushing against each other as to ward off the idea that they’re taking to Pontius too quickly, too well. This was what nervous looked like, right? Alecto nods at his words, gaze lifting to travel along and over the moving bodies. Conversation thrums in the background of the space where she’s half-cornered, half-approached Hephaestus. 

“It seems like he does. When I said I was excited to experience innovation, I didn’t think I’d get to see it all so soon.” Of course there were others bringing in what they had to offer – this was a summit, after all. “It’s a different kind of busy there. Not like this.” This was what Nyx wanted, Alecto thinks, based on their conversation about bringing in new blood to Tartarus for the sake of catching up with the others. She hadn’t quite understood then, but now, seeing all of this in person, it was getting easy to envision a Tartarus pulled out from clubs and debauchery alone. “But missing it? No, not at all. It’s weird, seeing them so soon, but I guess I should’ve prepped for that. That’s on me.” 

"Thank Chaos we’re on the ocean, then.”  He smiles crookedly. A tired attempt at a jest; with the exhaustion, it sounds a bit like sarcasm. A bit of a reach to expect a newcomer not to take it personally, but Hephaestus expects they’re made of tougher stuff, coming from Tartarus. 

He couldn’t pretend to fully understand the intricate infrastructure of Tartarus and the House of Hades, but he remembered what it had been when Hades first came, remembers visiting once, for his wedding, how it’d been dangerous even then. Wonders how it must be now, for one to outgrow the new reign as this one does. “What kind of busy was it over there?” Hephaestus nods, faint. “There are some things you can’t prepare for, even if you do your best to anticipate them. Are you worried they will give you a hard time, here, on Pontius? Should we be concerned?”

[hephaestusgalani]

circephyra​:

“I think people would notice.” He’s jesting, she knows – but she’s not able to return it. This was ( as much as it still stung to admit it ), after all, both of their presentations – and it would only serve to reflect poorly on both of them if Hephaestus were to disappear before the audience had had their chance to interrogate him. Circe could only hope that the questions would be kept within the scope of their presentation – and not reduced to petty gossip and insidious rumours. 

She can’t pretend to understand why Hephaestus had done what he did – why he would fall upon the sword to allow the Rhea brothers ( and, however unintentionally, Circe by extension ) to live another day. It doesn’t make any logical sense – as far as she can tell, this has only served to hurt Hephaestus, putting him in a worse position for little gain. It doesn’t make sense – and this makes Circe wary. “Trust me, I don’t like the idea of answering questions either. We can’t script those.”

She pauses at the next question – unsure how to proceed. She crosses the stage, increasing the distance between them. Perhaps someone else may have lied to protect Hephaestus’ ego, say that she had only recently found out, and that it was entirely by chance. But, this is Circe, and neither lying nor pandering exist within her vernacular. “A year ago.” She says, her voice lower than it had been a moment ago. “After Perses.”

“Yes,” he says, and returns to flicking through his notes. Even as a hypothetical to entertain as he sulks, it’d be too much trouble to walk straight out, wouldn’t be fair to Circe. After all, it wasn’t her who compelled Poseidon to confide in her rather than in Hephaestus; she was pulled along in this riptide without asking, as he had been. “No, we can’t. I usually consider those unscripted bits fun, up until. Well.”

A year ago, Perses. A silent sigh of relief. Lines up with what Poseidon told him - not that he suspected the Rhea had been lying, no, but omission is another thing entirely, as he knows well enough by now. “After Perses,” Hephaestus repeats, more to himself. “Heavy thing to be given, that, especially... after.”

[hephaestusgalani]

nyxerebvs​:

—

Nyx was sipping a drink (better than those on Olympe, but that wasn’t saying much) and staring out at the ocean when Hephaestus approached her. She hadn’t spoken to Hephaestus in years, probably, had never had a reason to. She’d seen him as Zeus’s pawn, turned Poseidon’s. She knew, vaguely, that he had grown up with the brothers, but she’d never given him much thought. Her mistake.

When he spoke - and so bluntly - she was glad that her surprise was hidden behind her sunglasses. She turned and looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Hello, Hephaestus,” she greeted him. “Yes, I volunteered. Nobody else worked. I didn’t really work either.”

So it was a good thing that Zeus had found Hephaestus, but she would never admit that. She still seethed at the reminder that Zeus had gone behind all of their backs to tell him. Another person knowing, she thought, could only make things worse. “You should really try to exercise more care. Never know who might be eavesdropping.”

-

He smiles faintly. Can’t quite imagine Nyx and Zeus committing to a false affair, but he thinks the effort would have been a riot to watch, given how she talks of the Rhea and Olympe on social media alone. Remembers still, how Zeus had groused to him right after Nyx’s, how he had tried not to smile as he poured Zeus another glass, the fire roaring behind them. Hephaestus couldn’t help it, at the time - it’s rare to see Zeus being denied anything, and he’d delighted in the novelty as if it were an indulgence. 

“I’m sure you’re relieved,” he remarks, searches her face for an affirmation. Quietly, “I’m curious. Would Hades have minded?” 

He crooks his lips. “We exercise a lot of care here. I as well. Every single person you see on Pontius, in this room even - who they are, what they’re capable of, does not escape us. Just as it is in Tartarus for you, I’m sure.” 

[hephaestusgalani]

pos-rhea​:

He flinches again, chest curving over his sternum like a gut-punch, chin turning to the side like a hook shot. He let himself get emotional, let it bleed through and crack his armour. He can’t afford this. He’s watching something slip through his fingers and he -

He’s fine. Poseidon opens his eyes, blank and cold, looks over to catalogue Hephaestus’ every tremble. He can feel himself shutting down, can feel his emotions turning to ice. “ Spare me your selflessness, Hephaestus. For me? For us? ” He barks a laugh, sharp and cutting, then finally breaks the distance that gulfs between them. He takes a step forwards, drops his voice into something slow and cruel. “ Really, Fae? His whore? ” The word drips out like venom, like poison, corrosion in his thoat. He can feel himself coming apart, fraying at the edges, melting from the heat within his core.

He’s fine. “ When was I supposed to tell you, honestly? You think I should’ve told you before, that thirty years ago you would’ve been happy just knowing? You think I should’ve told you as I stood over his fated head-stone, or did you think my tears were for him and not the fact I stole your revenge? You really think I was grieving himI?! Or do you think I should’ve told you as I said goodbye when you walked away with my brother and left me alone? ”

He's got an impulse to reach for Poseidon, seeing them bent over, as if they're in pain, as if he'd done this - he had, he'd done this, and the thought is enough for Hephaestus to nearly turn inward, to loathe and apologize and bend his head - but he remembers the pit in his own stomach, how it'd come to be there. 

 It's his turn to flinch, despite everything, despite nearly daring Poseidon to say it. It's so much worse to hear Poseidon say it, to spit it with such venom, splitting at the seams; he tries to hide how he has to catch his breath, averts his gaze even as Poseidon takes a step closer. "It's not even real, Poe. It's not real. It's the same whether it's me or Nyx. Why is it different?" Stupid question. Gamble of a question. Poseidon won't even deign to answer or they'll shatter, humor him - both might be cruel. 

He looks back up, brows creased. "Any of it. The night of, after you'd done it. At his grave, when you'd cooked for me, when I'd cooked for you, when I'd left—I'd have—have... fuck, I would have done anything. Helped you. Thanked you. I don't know. But I would have been grateful, at least, to have been involved, in the know, in your life, not having to learn about it thirty years after the fact when I'd lived in the same house of all of you." When I was being punished in your stead. 

Swallows. His mouth falls open, taken aback, never seen Poseidon address their divergence with such... vitriol. "If—if you had a problem with that, then why didn't you say so?"

[hephaestusgalani]

athenarhea​:

—

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say. That it was all a some bizarre lie, some sort of misunderstanding? They were well past that, the rational part of her knew. An apology, maybe, though she didn’t think she would have been happy with that, either. But this, the admission that yes, he had been avoiding her, which in turn meant yes, all of this was real - she didn’t know what to do with it,

She stared up at him, jaw working, willing herself to find some sort of snappy retort, something that would make him feel half the misery he’d created. Instead, all she came up with was, “What the fuck, Hephaestus?!”

Not a great start. Her words rang through the hall, making her aware of how public this confrontation was - and in turn, how many people were staring at her. Her skin burned; she barely suppressed the desire to jump off the side of the boat and into the water. She cleared her throat, a strikingly thin mask of professionalism smoothed over her features, and in a much softer voice, asked, “Is there somewhere we can talk?” Spare me this humiliation, at least.

-

In any other context, Hephaestus would be tickled by her outburst - that even amid her polish and eloquence, she is still capable of very human effusion. But sorrow coils around him like a serpent, knows as he looks at her that all the tentative goodwill they’d managed to built back up again after he went and fucked it all is laying in a heap between them.

Heads turn, and Hephaestus feels his stomach coil inward, his flesh flush with humiliation. At the very least, if Pandora was aboard, they’d never run out of bylines - even this, as much as he’s been dreading it, has the potential to further occupy the limelight, protect them - her - even further. He turns swiftly on his heel and leads them to an unused conference room further off from the main vein of the deck, and shuts the door behind them.

“I’m sorry, Athena. I’m sorry.” He’s rueful as he turns back to face her, brows knitted. “You’re well within your right to yell, to scream at me. I’d encourage anything that would help you, in this moment.”

[hephaestusgalani]

ohartemis​:

The entire ordeal is an ugly mirror, reflecting what life has always been and will always be. Lies and secrecy, deceit and betrayal, all of it hidden under a few layers that are easily ripped away. And once it is, the media runs with it, spins it and spins it into golden thread that will line their tapestry forever. Perhaps what she’s most mad at, is what it says of this world. That betrayal is not just that: it is also a headline. It is also a story.

Does she hate Hephaestus? Of course not. At least not any more than she might have before, as love and hate have always been synonyms for her. Her cruelty now, however, isn’t born out of hatred. It’s powerlessness. “I don’t return art as a rule,” she says, then gives a sweet smile, “But if you’d like to get a painting of my dad and yourself, I’ll forward you their information.”

Artemis pushes herself off the wall, inches closer, keeps her hand in her trouser pockets and places the one that had been dangling by her body in the other. “I enjoy myself everywhere I go. There are places I’d rather be right now, though, but who am I to deny an invitation?” She shrugs, halts, keeps some distance between herself and Hephaestus. “Do hope you and the rest of the executives won’t grow to regret my being here.” She blinks, taps her fingers against her leg underneath the fabric. “With the media circus in town, who knows what might happen.”

-

He laughs shortly. Bitterly. Can’t fault Artemis for anything she says in the moment, thinks to bite his tongue, let her have her barbs and her cruelty - it feels deserved, for once. For the fun of it, imagines what he’d say if the entire thing was true, and not an orchestration, and if he wanted to tempt Artemis’ ire. Bold of you to assume we wouldn’t have commissioned our own art. But it’s not, and he doesn’t. “Lovely. Perhaps I’ll start a collection.” 

She draws closer, and he does not move. Her words ring vaguely like threats, the content of which almost comfortingly familiar. The promise of her own kind of revolt, the surety of her disquiet. He’s much the same way, to a degree - lose any measure of control, grapple for it back, no matter the means. The difference was that his efforts were far less public. “No such possibility. You know you’re a delight, Artemis. Even when you’re threatening.” He shifts his weight. “I should apologize.”

[hephaestusgalani]

apvlllo​:

–

Apollo hadn’t actually believed Hephaestus to give in to what he was proposing. Sure, he’s outlandish in nature, but he’s so used to people either turning him down or laughing endearingly before the inevitable ‘no’, that he stares agape as Hephaestus rounds him to step in the boat that he knows he looks a fool, arms limp at his side, eyes wide, looking like his body isn’t his own. 

But Apollo’s always known it wasn’t. It never has been. He has just been the soul present while other people wield it. And in that moment, he’s okay with it. He’ll follow the strands that Hephaestus tugs and he’ll climb into the boat and sit on one of the seats that cradles him. It holds him stiff and far from secure but it’s his point of rest no less.

What is on his mind, he considers this fact. Apollo’s mind has been full, and clouded, and so damn loud that he can’t even parse through what dominates. But Hephaestus is right here and he knows that he’s been a frequent clouded thought.

“You’re smart, Hephaestus.” He resists the urge to lay across the bench to find comfort in being horizontal. Instead he cranes his head, heavy and bloated, to look at the other through the dark night. “I think it’s quite obvious to observe that amongst the many chaos of things, you are on my mind. Though even I’ll admit I’m not quite sure as to why.”

-

He chuckles, the sound faint especially set against the distant ambiance of revelry and gatherings on the decks above, at Apollo’s dumbfounded look. How often have the roles been reversed, Hephaestus flabbergasted in the wake of Apollo’s antics, mind trying to catch up after he’s said something outrageous with all the nonchalance of someone remarking on the weather. Feels fun. Feels nice, after spending the past week treading water.

Hephaestus punches in some random coordinates - out further into the ocean but not so far that Pontius completely vanishes from view; close enough to be comfortable. The boat begins to move, swift and smooth, and the breeze whips past as they pick up speed. He sits across from Apollo, resting his cheek on his palm, smiles dryly, curiously.

“Not sure why? Nothing to do with any recent headlines, surely.” A half-hearted jest. “Unless you’re referring to something... not quite so obvious.” He grimaces. No need to call the scandal by name - not with Apollo in the state he’s in. “Whether it’s obvious or not, I’m here.”

[hephaestusgalani]

mcyme​:

FOR: @hephaestusgalani​ ​WHERE: the AUDITORIUM; BACKSTAGE WHEN: 2130.02; AN HOUR BEFORE PANEL STARTS

There is no rhyme or reason to how the antagonistic nature of their push-and-pull relation came to be, none that he chooses to dwell on at least. Since day one of crossing paths, they simply have not been able to see eye to eye on hardly anything. Fortunately, the difference in age guaranteed they wouldn’t have to be caught in the same room together more than twice a year at most, a fact he’d been happy to contend with up until a departure made the time apart more permanent.

Now though, he’s beginning to wonder if the Fates have a personal agenda to fulfill, to force him into close proximity with Hephaestus seemingly at every presented opportunity—making up for lost time or lost connections neither is keen to recover. If it hadn’t been for the fact this is also Circe’s panel, and he’d promised to show in support, he might’ve turned around and walked back out the auditorium. But alas.

He decides not to bring up the affair. Why bother beating a dead horse? No doubt his siblings and media flies alike will have plenty to say to them about the matter, assuming they haven’t already been put through the wringer at least ten times over since the week started. So perhaps, this time at least, he’ll cut them some slack. “You ready for the presentation?“

Of all the people he does expect to give him grief for the affair, Ares is at the top of the list, and yet, the Rhea is the most nonchalant he’s seen him, here, fresh off the heels of hearing of a scandal and far from Olympe. 

He’s lingering off to the side of the stage as people are slowly filtering in, the din of civil chatter filling the hall, gaze fixed upon his notes when Ares approaches. Institutionally, he grimaces, squares his shoulders. No great secret he wasn’t particularly proud of the way he’d acted the last time they’d ran into each other - accusing him of being nothing more than a mindless hound to his father, and here he is, humiliating himself acting the part of mistress for Zeus Rhea. The irony is not lost upon him.

“Erm. As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. Thanks.” Not entirely the truth. It’ll be his first public appearance since the scandal broke. He’ll power through it he always does, but he hardly believes Aegean’s financials will be top of mind during his stint. Hephaestus lifts a brow, openly incredulous. “You surprise me, Ares. Behaving so politely.”

[hephaestusgalani]

circephyra​:

𝐖𝐇𝐎: CIRCE & HEPHAESTUS ( @hephaestusgalani ) 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: PONTIUS, AUDITORIUM 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: FEBRUARY 2130, WEEK ONE OF THE SUMMIT

“… So, after you discuss our financial trajectory for the next five years, I’ll announce the launch of CETO-X9 and the new mobile devices.” She crosses the stage, pressing a button on the clicker she’s been carrying, changing the image on the screen to a colourful animation announcing the latest CETO operating system. This upgrade had been a long time in the making – an array of new features that Circe was itching to unveil. Countless hours by Circe and her team had been poured into it – to ensuring everything was perfect before even a hint of what was planned could be leaked to the public. 

The KALAVRIA SUMMIT, too, had been several years in the making. What had started as a simple idea at a meeting a few years ago, had since spawned the exhaustive, two-week event. In fact, when Circe had first started planning for this presentation, she had been doing so alongside PERSES – she tries not to let the bitter resentment of having HEPHAESTUS by her side, instead, ruin her enthusiasm for the summit. This had to go well – and, for it to do so, they had to put up a united front. Particularly after the news that had recently be published ( however untrue both Circe and Hephaestus knew it to be ).

“Then I think we can start taking a Q&A. We should have about fifteen minutes left at the end, give or take. How does that sound?”

-

He’s always thrown himself into his work, no matter if he found himself brimming with tumult or still with nothing at all. Producing something tangible has always been the easiest way to prove himself, his worth - with Cronus, at Olympe, here at Pontius; no one could ever deny him that he fills his space when it is replete with results.

Hephaestus bends over his notes, scrawling, rewriting, making annotations, grateful for the distraction the Summit and this presentation will offer, pleased Aegean and Circe have more than enough in their tech unveiling to easily thieve the spotlight from the news of the affair, selfishly. 

It’s hard not to be selfish, these days. Greedy. Wanting all the space in the world away from people and things, secrets shared but never with him. Hephaestus looks at Circe and sees someone Poseidon trusts first, then everything else after - how she must resent for taking her brother’s place, for representing all the world’s willingness to move on. There’s envy, poisonous, and resentment, though more towards Poseidon than to Circe.

”Yes. Um.” He looks up from his notes, scrubs his palm over his eyes. “Sounds like it’s a good thing I’m not following you.” Snorts. “You think anyone would notice if I ducked out before Q&A?” It’s half a jest. Nothing would be so fucking obvious, but perhaps it would work in their favor - Circe keeps the spotlight, ultimately, but no such great mystery over what his absence would hide. Shame, mostly. “How long ago did Poseidon tell you?”

[hephaestusgalani]

pos-rhea·:

he’s fine. he scans his arm and the door slides open.

he’s fine. he steps inside and watches as the lights blink on with the motion.

he’s fine. watches as they illuminate the figure who’s been sat in the dark, casts their face severely, highlights every bruise that peeks over their collar, the flat line of their mouth, the hurt in their eyes.

he’s -

the door slides shut behind him, automatically locks into place. he doesn’t move at the latch, doesn’t move as hephaestus crosses his arm, doesn’t move as he meets his eyes. instead he flinches at the question, knocks his elbow back against the door, hears the crack of it echo through the lab.

he takes a breath, forces the emotion from his face, pulls on the cocksure arrogance. poseidon tilts his head like the answer is obvious, leans back against the door like he’s guarding it and not just ready to escape, shrugs like it’s all inconsequential. “ what would you have me do? apologise? it wasn’t a matter of trust, fa-, fes. and what of you? ”

his voice goes sharp, unable to hide the hurt. “ evidentally your words meant just as little, if you find out the truth and immediately sign on to be his fucking wh- ”  he cuts off the words, notices that his breathing has gone quick, shallow. darts his eyes away before screwing them shut. he can picture it now - images of hephaestus walking away from the beach, bruises on display, accredited to the wrong brother.

There's a degree of satisfaction that rings hollow when Poseidon knocks his elbow on the door at his words; he can't even take the moment to relish in it, to have it ebb and flow within as he wants. Nowhere for it to go but the soles of his feet. It vanishes completely when as he watches Poseidon slip on a wretchedly familiar veneer, the Rhea's face absent of any overt expression, and it's the closest thing to a dagger he could lob at him. At least afford me the courtesy of honesty. After all of this. After everything. Don't look at me like I've come to you with a fucking complaint.

"If it wasn't a matter of trust, then what was it a matter of, if you went out and told someone else? Protection?" Scoffs. Even if it is true, even if Poseidon echoed Zeus's words, it feels like a platitude when the latter all but confirmed the former had shared the secret so eagerly with someone who was decidedly not himself, who was, in all likelihood, someone Poseidon had met after they'd gone in their own directions. At least it rang truer with his brother, didn't even tell his fucking wife.

"What of me?" Feels his pulse skip and skitter, his palms go numb. Their voice takes on an edge, and Hephaestus lets it scrape across his skin. He swallows incredulously. "I—I'm doing it for you! All of us! I was kept in the dark, all of my life, and this opportunity to prove I'd do anything for this fucking family is given to me, you think I have a choice?" He calms himself, digs his trembling hands into the crooks of his elbows. "His what, Poe? Whore?" He pauses. "Why can't you say it?"

[hephaestusgalani]

apvlllo​:

@hephaestusgalani​

WHEN: Week one of Kalavria WHERE: The docs

There wasn’t the same kind of access to the ocean on a Olympe. A fact that Apollo never really considered until he was here. Or maybe he was just never in a place to really appreciate the peace it was giving to him. He was growing desperate for some sense of escape, yet freedom and peace. His mind has been a whirlwind of noises lately.

The night is old and Apollo’s tired from trying to shake so many hand, tired from tugging at his dense hair as he tries to get people on the same page as him. After a while he didn’t even fully understand what he was saying himself, he was just looking for anyone who would give him the slightest bit of interest.

He decides to go to the docs, long after people had returned their boats and skis from their adventures outward. Not that Apollo was looking for an adventure, he just wanted to get out. But there was no one around to hand out keys or instructions, it was far too late for that. No matter, though, Apollo was a smart guy.

A smart guy who had a hard time seeing straight, as he tried to rummage through a shed, hoping to find where the keys were kept. He didn’t even notice the creak of footsteps from the distance until it was too close, too late to hide.

Oh,” Is the sound he makes when he peaks out from the case he was rummaging from the see who was interrupting his endeavors. And he wasn’t even sure what to say besides that. Seeing Hephaestus brought back the queasy feeling in his stomach. “Would you like to steal a boat with me?” Was the only rational thing he could think. Maybe if they got on a boat, far away from everyone and everything, things could make sense. But right now, Apollo had a hard time understanding not only the world around him, but what was going on inside of him.

-

He’s only been emerging from his quarters in the cloak of night, chasing shadows like a ship searching for safe harbor. Roaming the decks with restless fervor, passing by the labs one too many times, he emerges from Pontius’ depths when the moon is high and bright, and the once teeming Helicon deck sits silent. Hephaestus sits and finally does his living here, his basking and his mourning and his contemplation; everything beyond this point in the day feels merely like observation. Like he’s sitting on the sidelines, outside of his own body.

Hephaestus starts to his ritual, to find his favorite deck chair close to the pool and the islands visible in the distance, but clattering off to the side, towards the docks, alerts him, and he freezes, half poised to retreat back to his room. But something incessant pulls at him to investigate, to at least make sure it’s not a drunken guest about to take a dive into the sea. 

What he finds is surely worse, certainly better, and Hephaestus heaves in a long breath. To be stuck on a boat with one of Zeus’s children hardly constituted the evening of serenity he’d been look forward to, but Apollo was proving to be generous, as of late. Kind. But even a saint’s benevolence runs out, and there were no saints left alive in Gaia. 

“I know they’re self-driving, but you hardly seem to be in the state to be alone, tech aside.” He smiles tightly. Fuck it. Crosses the distance to join Apollo, gently pushes past him to finesse the boat and flip it on, the engine roaring to life in the dead of night, and he steps in, balancing at the vessel wobbles. Turns back to fully take in the actor, lifting his brow, holds out his hand. “What’s on your mind, Apollo.”

[hephaestusgalani]

 closed to @nyxerebvs where: helicon, pontius when: the hour of the leviathan; first week

It’s been years since he’d last seen Nyx before Olympe; perhaps even decades - he can’t remember the last time he ever trekked to Tartarus since Hades’ and Persephone’s wedding. Feels like lifetimes, if a life is partitioned between ignorance and knowing. 

He’s not spoken or seen Nyx since Olympe, but encountering her here, knowing all that she must know for years now, he can’t help his envy. How he could look at Hades and Nyx, and never once doubt his trust in her, and hers in him. “I heard it was meant to be you, initially,” he begins, and ends. Hephaestus looks and feels exhausted, and he can hardly spare more in terms of pleasantries.

[hephaestusgalani]

zeusrhea​:

–

Am I supposed to believe that? “Yes,” Zeus says, simply enough. “I told it to you, didn’t I? Would I lie to you?” He grins like a shark, more open than he’d usually let slip in the open air like this, proud and hungry and dangerous, but it’s just the two of them out here, right?

He leans in next to Heph at the railing, so the guests have no chance of reading his lips, even from afar. Hephaestus is warm through his shirtsleeves, and smells faintly like cologne and detergent and imported liquor. “Do you think,” Zeus’ voice is low. Amused. “Those two, back there. Think they’re sleeping together yet? Or perhaps, tonight…” He raises his eyebrows.

It’s one of Zeus’ favorite games, when they’re in private like this. Speculating on what lies underneath all the– frippery, and eyebrows, and entendre. The card games and intonations and insinuations. Peeking at the underside of their world and pulling out the little human truths, in all their bad taste and illicit substances, sex and gore and nepotism. The cheating and cheated-on, and to-be-cheated-on-soon. The swindles and the double-crossings and checkmates. Nephews with connections to foreign agencies. Daughters caught with their hands in the till, or the server data. The delicious, disgusting whirlwind of it all, with the two of them observing from the center– chuckling and exchanging looks.

Zeus leans away to look down at the pill in Heph’s hand, but he’s already moving to snap it, pressing half in Zeus’ palm. “No idea. Something from abroad, I think.” He smiles, crooked. “Let’s find out then, shall we? Open up.” He presses his half to Heph’s lips, opening his own to the pill Heph feeds him back. It hits his tongue with a metallic burst, dusty and tart, and he swallows fast. “Cheers.”

-

“I hope not,” Hephaestus grins, just as open, eyes widening furtively as he watches the hunger, the peril makes itself apparent, known, if only to him, “I’m good at fathoming you out. And I think I believe you.” 

They fall easily into the habits of favored games of speculation, imagining what lives these financiers dripping in gold could lead in their far off homes, what tangled webs of silk and bile they must weave. If the one with his hand on another’s thigh returns home to a spouse, to children, to their own coffers and their own ugly, bloody battle over scandal succession. If the other, wheezing with laughter and flushed red from the liquor, has ever known betrayal, if they’ve ever fantasized of this moment, or any other. Wonders if, when people watch the Rheas from afar, they find themselves contemplating the very same speculation, idle in their thoughts as they ruminate on what glamour or gore they’ve sunken themselves into.

Hephaestus glances back for a fraction of a moment, discreet, before turning back to Zeus, bumping their elbows. “Perhaps tonight,” he echoes, smile mischievous, conspiratorial, lifting an eyebrow. “You’d think they’re teenagers, pawing at each other the way they do. Like they’ve got something to prove. Perhaps they’re unable to, even here. They could be star-crossed, we wouldn’t even know it.” 

He’s obedient, always is, when he opens his mouth, feels the pill dissolve on the heat of his tongue, then the back of his throat, something chalky, sour. Makes a face that vanishes in a beat; immediately, a surging, swift warmth that settles deep in his marrow, a euphoria that feels closer to exultation, and he unfurls, wraps his arms round the railing. Blinks multiple times, breathes out a laugh. “Shit. They’re not fucking around overseas, are they?” 

Driven purely by whim now, Hephaestus swings himself up to sit upon the railing, smile bright and broad and thrilled and elated. “Feels like a sunrise inside,” he laughs, peering down at Zeus. Offers a hand. “Join me?”