↳ edge ↰ of the world

A small frown pulled on her face as she lost sight of the girl, but at the hand offered, Nanshe replaced it with a polite smile. “It wasn’t entirely your fault. I should’ve been looking where I was going.” She stood and dusted herself off while looking over the male. “Where are you headed in such a rush?”

Watching with a small smile as she got to her feet, bag tucked under his arm, Hephaestus waited until she’d dusted herself off before replying with a self-deprecating, “My luck, I’d still find ways to knock you off your feet regardless of how much - or how little - you were paying attention.” Bumbling fool fit him quite well, all things considered. But then, head tilting at her inquiry, he added after a long, thoughtful pause, “My shop.” He gestured toward the building that housed his workspace - where he often parked himself for hours on end, practically living there during his busier days. “I had some materials to pick up - and now I’m on my way back to work. What about you?” He might have been in a hurry to get there, but he wasn’t so overwhelmed with thoughts of orders in need of filling that he hadn’t noticed the direction the woman’s gaze had gone after he’d bumped into her.

— “Not at all,” Hades replies candidly, grabbing for the beer bottle before Hephaestus knows what’s hit him. His nephew is actually one of the few individuals he can claim a genuine liking for, and he doesn’t like seeing him on this path of self-destruction. “We all have limitations, Hephaestus, and I think you surpassed your own two bottles ago.” Probably more than two bottles ago. “And do you really want to give your spirit more problems to worry after its departed your body? Take it from someone with a little experience in that area — it wouldn’t be good.” 

— Sighing, he offers the beer bottle to the bartender to throw away, recycle it, or do whatever it is they’re meant to do with nearly empty bottles, then reaches for his discarded book, slightly amused gaze on Hephaestus. “Unfortunately, I and my evil streak must take my leave now. But don’t think you’ve gotten rid of me just yet. I’ll be seeing you soon.” Someone clearly needs to check on Hephaestus at least once a week. “Enjoy the rest of your night … but please don’t overdo it.” He nods before starting for the exit. It’s time to return home for the evening. He has much to do to prepare for tomorrow.

“Me!” Dion mockingly jested, hand flying to his chest in a dramatic show of shock — like he was surprised he himself was here, the gesture ending on a bow that came equipped with a wink. “How you doin’ old man?” The ex-god chirped, keeping a disdainful eye on the ale his brother drank. It looked like swamp water. Probably tasted like it too.

“I came over here to save you from yourself, you goddamn animal.” Dion made a face that could only be labeled as empathetic disgust and slowly inched his hand towards the beer that sat as an insult on his counter. Hephaestus should know better than to order a barley made beverage in the house of grapes! “Lemme jus— “ the bottle was snatched away from his slow-moving grasp. “Hey, I was just trying to help.”

Head cocked sideways, eyes squinting like none of this had anything to do with the beer, Dion studied his brother, from the fine wrinkles caused by stress down to the blackened tips of fingers, dirty from the forge? “You’re usually an imposing sight Heps, but this? It’s lookin’ a little— ” pathetic. “Talk to me, let me be your bar-side therapist.”  

Eyeing the man with faint amusement, the corners of his lips curving upward at that brief display of dramatic surprise, Hephaestus offered a lazy shrug in return, one shoulder lifting in some semblance of nonchalance as he straightened with a groan of discontent - what he wouldn’t give for a good night’s rest. “I’m good ... could be better; but I have to admit, your little show right there killed the woe.” His brother had always possessed a flair for the dramatics, so much so that at times it had been difficult to discern if he was being serious or not. A serious Dionysus was a strange sight, indeed, but not so strange that he found the whole situation impossible. 

“Save me from myself? I ain’t no damsel in distress, Dion.” The blacksmith scoffed, fingers tightening around the very bottle Dionysus had sneakily ( but slowly, too damn slow for the drunken eye to catch until it was too late ) attempted to take from him - but he’d refused his gesture of aid, choosing instead to guzzle down beer like there was no tomorrow ... until the bottle was empty and there were no more barley-made beverages to save him from. “See? All gone, just like magic.” Yeah, if magic came equipped with greedy suction cups people liked to call lips.