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‘ ... you’ve been mentioned. where i’m from. ’ it's rare that mortals attract the attention of gods. when they do, hephaestus has learnt that it isn’t always meant to be a good thing - not for the mortals, anyways. gods are rarely the unfortunate ones. whatever doom that’s been resulted, it was almost often their own doing. ‘ my brother. you amuse him. ’ / for @milehighmechanic !
hephaestus starter call.
‘ continue down this road and walk straight. turn right after you see the house with pink mailbox, then walk ‘till you see a red, bright door with morning glory planted on its fence — those are purple flowers — n’ you should be near the centre o’ the town then, i reckon. ’ he hasn’t even bothered looking up from bending down the metal he has across his workplace. surely those who ventures here only either meant that they are lost, or they thought he a mechanic. / for @hardnews !
hephaestus starter call.
‘ rare. ’ he grunts, the only greeting he seems he could manage, finally turning away from his station; large, rough hands darkened with soots now moved to wipe across the apron. a pointless act, perhaps - it isn’t like he will touch her. he wouldn’t dare. hephaestus knows what is said of him; knows the value he’s being put outside of work. he will not overstep. will not give another reason to fall once more by just existing. ‘ you, here. ’ he explains, short. simple. ‘ a job ? ’ translated : are you here to give me a job ? / for @inmydrcams !
hephaestus starter call.
‘ her look. ’ it is not said with contempt, nor malice. no. hephaestus bears no ill-thoughts towards the goddess of love, no matter how doomed their history has been perceived. when he gazes upon the demi-god, his is a face of someone, though hesitant, welcomed of her presence. after all, hephaestus has been here before: to be something born that was god-like, but to have to linger someplace else, cast away from his rightful home. ‘ i see it in you. ’ a small smile, though he puts his gaze away. now slightly panicked ! where had he put the teapot ? ‘ come. sit. tell me of your journey. ’ / for @spyloved !
hephaestus starter call.
‘ it aches. sometimes. ’ the condition of his leg does not bother him - though he knows, among the gods, it may cause an unease. hephaestus do not blame them. they were born to be the perfect creation where mortals couldn’t. their skin portrayed to be marble, porcelain, something untouchable and rich. hephaestus is awkward and freckled and ugly. or, at least - that is what he believes are being said of him. it matters not, though; hephaestus is good in his work. his service is relentlessly requested. and that’s enough. ( is it ? a small voice always whimpers back, the one who longs for his lost mother, the one who craves for a tiny speck of true affection. ) ‘ i need - to sit. ’ / for @coronaslight !
hephaestus starter call.
[ hugs for a very long time ] @hephaestus
‘ ’
his hands rest awkwardly, hesitantly, on her shoulders. for a moment, the god is brought over with confusion. perhaps part of it was because the gesture came as a surprise, but mostly because he - hadn’t expected this and, quite frankly, couldn’t make up any reasons why he’s deserving of it. still, slowly, surely, his hands wrap around her with more confidence. and with it, comes the grief he don’t often amuse. he wonders, not for the first time, why it had been easy for the gods to abandon their kin ? to have a friend, to have a family … should it not be treasured ?
‘ be good. ’ is what he manages in the end, voice rough and deep; any other time, any other person, it could easily be mistaken for a voice subjecting the negative. but no. the smith has only wanted to project his best intentions. he wonders if it is delivered. ‘ come. again. to visit. i have - more tea. ’
soft sentence starters.
“Stay,” Thor tells Hephaestus.
stay ?
what a curious request. surely even with their regions separating them, the gods in norway would know: that hephaestus is ugly, that he is unwanted, that he is only needed for his work - not his companionship. his siblings, of course, would say otherwise. but even then, it’d taken them years — decades, centuries — to have finally broken whatever the rumours and stereotypes they have to finally bond over where their parents have marred.
thor is, as far as hephaestus is aware, generous. courageous. and devastatingly handsome. attractive in ways that hephaestus’ own large feature and heavily-freckled body could not compare. in a way, he reminds the smith so of his brother, the god of war, in the way they exist; in the way they speak and behave, if only ares wasn’t so eager for the rush of the battle.
why would you want me ? he almost wants to ask, but he keeps his mouth pressed together; and the look he gives the blond, it is one born from a suspicious nature and contemplation. i’ve no tools to please you, nothing i’ve smithed or built to cheer you. certainly you must not want me for my presence alone. i know what i am, o’ friend, i know that i am dreary. i speak so little, smile even less. why would you want me ?
but hephaestus only hums. sits there by thor’s side with, shoulders bumping.
‘ if i am enough. ’ he says, and hopes, desperately, that he is.
soft sentence starters.
‘ i am not the one who the story’s about. ’ / from hephaestus for @rejectory !
one-liner sc.
