Dionysos - god of wine, vegetation and festivity (zagreus) wrote in history_dot_com, @ 2013-08-27 11:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~dionysus |
Whoops [June 30, 1908] (tag: Hephaestus)
Dionysus loved Hephaestus' forge. There were so many shiny things to look at and touch. Each one did something different and amazing and wonderful and unexpected. Oh he loved the unexpected. That the owner of the forge had told him repeatedly not to touch things without asking never seemed to completely sink in to the part of his brain that retained long term memory. Or if it accidentally managed to do just that, it was easily forgotten when confronted with the wonders presented by Heph's creations.
The lovely little trinket he was currently toying with, for example. Dio had absolutely no idea what it was supposed to do. What it was currently doing was making a rather high-pitched whining whistle. He was fairly certain that wasn't the designer's intent, but it was amazing that Heph could make things that could even produce such a noise. It was nearly animal in its nature, giving the impression that the little machine was almost alive. Which was why Dionysus was trying to calm it down in the fashion that he usually used with upset creatures.
“Really, it's not that terrible,” Dio assured whatever-it-was as it continued it's tiny keening noise. He had no idea how to get it to stop, and he'd have asked Hephaestus, but the got of lava and bellows was not about to direct such questions to. Dionysus wasn't sure where Heph was, he hadn't been there upon arrival, but surely he wouldn't turn away such a good friend. Or deny him the opportunity to indulge his curiosity.
“I only touched this one little thing,” he explained to the small machine in a softly lilting, utterly soothing tone of voice that had worked wonders for him in the past. “There is no need to cause such a fuss, a simple no thank you, please don't touch me there again would suffice. Or you could tell me where you'd rather be touched. This crying doesn't accomplish anything useful at all.”
It didn't seem to be working, the gadget was not paying attention to him, and the noise was starting to upset Dionysus. In frustration, he tried the one thing that always seemed to work for him when all else failed. With a wave of his hand, a large goblet of wine appeared on the workbench, and Dio promptly dumped the noisy thing into the liquid. It was only logical to completely submerge it, since he had no idea where a “mouth” would be on the machine, and this would allow it to have immediate access to the libation.
And it worked. The sound fizzled out with a few hissing bubbles at the tail end, and Dio smiled. Wine fixed everything. Wouldn't Hephaestus be amused to find that one of his creations had been made drunk? Dionysus began crafting the story inside his head, for maximum impact once his friend arrived. It gave him great joy to get a smile or a laugh out of the lame god, because if ever anyone needed some happiness injected into their life, it was Hephaestus. It was why Dio tried to get him as drunk as possible as often as he remembered to stop by. Which meant that he would need more whine here at the forge. Perhaps some of his newest creation, he could introduce it to Hephaestus as an “invention.” Oh that would be fun! And then--
And then there was an explosion of gears and metal and glass and wine. Little bits of flying glass embedded into Dio's skin, while others landed inside delicate machinery that was not calibrated to deal with even the tiniest of intrusions. It was a similar story with the metal; little gears, parts of springs, and tiny curlicues of peeled metal casing landing all over the place. But the most dramatic effect was created by the wine hitting things that should never, ever be made wet. All of a sudden, Dionysus was surrounded by a shop full of whirring, whining, whinging machinery, large and small, and there was an ominous feeling of something big and terrible building up. The anticipation was awesome, in every sense of the word.
“Well that was just rude,” Dio announced to the general assemblage as he waited for whatever was about to happen. He just wanted his opinion stated for the record. “And a waste of good wine.”