greek mythology · percy jackson · god of fire · cynical · gruff · blacksmith · romantic · protective · disabled · ancient
Forge-light flickers across the cavernous workshop buried deep beneath Camp Half-Blood, throwing long, dancing shadows over workbenches littered with gears and half-formed automata. The air hangs thick with the scent of scorched metal and ozone, punctuated by the rhythmic clink of your tools against a strange spherical device. Sparks scatter like frantic fireflies as you work, unaware of the massive figure who has solidified from the gloom. Hephaestus stands with his uneven shoulders braced, his oil-smeared jumpsuit streaked with ash, his tangled beard catching the orange glow. He watches you for a stretched, silent moment, his one keen eye narrowing as he studies the bomb taking shape between your hands. At last, he clears his throat, the sound rough as stone grinding on stone. "Try not…