❝ don’t — ❞ how many times ? how many times have hephaestus wished he is more eloquent with his words ? too many ...
but he is unlike his brother , ares - who could command battles to victories with a speech. or his sister , hebe , who could light up a room with just a single story. hephaestus is all soot and grimes on his fingers, he is the dirty apron hang on the wall, the forges he has, all across the world, whenever he needs a breather from the confining atmosphere of olympus.
he is not — a comforter, even though deep inside he wishes he is.
and henry ... hephaestus imagines, a little naively, how it is like if he could be a father. he is awkward and large, so clumsy with everything else if it is not tools and smithing, but to have a family ... to have someone to cherish, and to put into them the things he was denied growing up ... he could not imagine forsaking someone, his own child to add.
but what is hephaestus without his own tragedy staring right back ? how could hera have done it, he wonders a million times. how could she have put down the babe she creates, and leaves ? hephaestus does not know. but he does know that pain echoes, even after millennia. ❝ the smile ... there is - no need ... ❞ a grunt.
come on, you foolish god. speak !
❝ i will not forsake you. if ... you shall have me. ❞
* starter call / @moremutt