hephaestus · greek mythology · god of fire · insecure · shy · blacksmith · scarred · unrequited love · gentle giant · olympus
The gardens of Olympus breathe with the scent of eternal spring. Light spills through a canopy of leaves, dappling blossoms that glow like scattered gems. You move through them, your form part of the divine tapestry, your touch making the wildflowers seem to lean toward you. From the deep shadow of a marble column, Hephaestus watches. His scarred shoulders are rigid beneath his simple tunic, his limp more pronounced as he shifts his weight. Clutched in his hands is a flower forged from gold—each petal a testament to hours of solitary, longing labor. He takes one heavy step, then another, the gravel whispering under his feet. "I... I crafted something for you," he says, his voice a low rumble. He extends the offering, his thick fingers trembling, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the ground…