Who: Hephaestus & Achilles What: First meeting in a really long time When: Saturday morning Where: Central Park Warnings: TBD Note: Reposted as a favour, originally posted by Hephaestus and Achilles
Hephaestus hadn't really meant to go out today, but for November, the weather was nice enough that he thought he'd go out and get a coffee and a bagel. Taking his breakfast, he made his way over to Central Park, taking a seat on a bench bathed in sunlight. At this time of the morning, the only people around were early-morning joggers and early risers like him. The park was vast, enough space to distance himself from most people but still enjoy the day.
He sat sipping his coffe, thinking idly about going to find a newspaper, when he felt a ping in the back of his head. Immortal. And if his intuition was correct, Greek as well. He turned his head, looking for the source, and to determine whether or not he should make his escape.
Achilles had picked up a magazine at the local newsstand before he walked into the park. From the interview he'd done a few weeks prior, the writer had made him appear idiotic, and that his film had been just another attempt at bringing ancient warfare to the modern screen.
He walked past the blacksmith, not yet recognizing him as he strode past in anger. The blonde warrior need not speak to notice his obvious irritation as he ripped the magazine to pieces, thrashing it into the trashcan. His fingers wrapped around the edge of the metal rim, knuckles turning a pale white. Without an introduction, Achilles was a recognizable energy to his immortal kin.
As the angry blonde man strode into view, Hephaestus finally put a name to the energy in his mind. Achilles. Of course. He was surprised he hadn't put it together sooner.
"Achilles, son of Peleus," he called, loud enough to be heard, but not enough to disturb others around him. "Will you not stop and talk with me a moment? It has been far too long since we have conversed."
Achilles took pride in what he did, whether that now be film or his past spent on the battlefield. His mood at the moment did not take kindly to being mocked, be it by words or a breathing figure. It was no surprise that a ridiculous article set him off now, not with Hybris' influence starting to take over. He was aware of her attentions and that some thoughts were not his own, but he liked that sense of empowerment.
Achilles was ready to hurl the large object over his head and towards the first object he could throw it at, but the voice made him step back and take a breather, sharp eyes cutting towards the culprit.
His true name, and not some mortal alias.
Cocking his head upward as if he had the authority to do so, Achilles noticed who had spoken to him, and took the seat beside him.
"Blacksmith," he noted with a draw of his brow.
Hephaestus simply raised an eyebrow in return. "You know, Achilles, common courtesy dictates that if I address you by name, you should address me by mine." He took another sip of his coffee.
He noticed the headtilt, but simply accepted it as Achilles being Achilles, and decided not to comment.
"So tell me, warrior. What is it that has your temper so inflamed this morning?"
Achilles flexed his fingers, as if to ware down the agitation that was still boiling through his system. It wasn't an uncommon shift in moods, but he could tell there was an uncomfortable edge that was not something he was used to. This wasn't his PTSD talking, this was the words of a goddess penetrating his thoughts.
With a abrupt sigh, Achilles kept his chin out, looking at the blacksmith through slightly slitted eyes. "Hephaestus," he retorted, taking a moment to look around the area around them and focus on a distant object to calm his temper. It was something his therapist had suggested he do, the idea just seemed ridiculous.
It was enough however to get him to make small talk, and think more with his own thoughts instead of that fiery rage. "Absurd writers and their ridiculous conclusions." He clasped his hands together, setting elbows against his knees. "Dare they make me out to be anything less than what I am?" Under a mortal guise or not, he was great at what he did. There were many fine directors out there, but few that could pull together what he did from his knowledge and experience with war.
"Thank you," Hephaestus replied. "That wasn't so difficult, now was it?"
"What I think all of our kind tend to forget about mortals," he continued, "is that their capacity for many things is limited. Instead of seeing you trying to tell a story that is dear to you, they only see something that, to them, is repetitious. They do not intend to insult you, and yet, you seem to think that's exactly what they did."
He shrugged. "Regardless of who is right and who is wrong, getting angry will not solve anything. If I might offer a bit of advice?" He continued speaking anyway. "Make your next project the best you've ever done. Show them that they were wrong. And perhaps the next write-up will be better."
There was a presence in Hephaestus' speech that was reminiscent of Thetis, and perhaps that was what put Achilles on the defense. His shoulders stiffened back, hands wringing together.
"Speaking like that of a parent Hephaestus and not a god?" He raised a brow, arrogance still breaching through his mannerisms. There was a tension and respect that Achilles held for the blacksmith, one that showed how different the two were. One that his mother had made a comparison to before, which still settled very uneasily with the hot-tempered Greek.
"Film is like a battle, Hephaestus. I aim to be the champion among men. Nothing I do is inferior."
Taking a moment to breath, he relaxed a little, letting lose his hands, fighting that voice in his head that kept pushing him up the pedestal.
Hephaestus shrugged. "If I've paid you an insult, than I apologize. That was not my intention. I only seek to help you however I can. And I know full well that I am not your parent. But since I have garnered knowledge and wisdom in my long life that may benefit others around me, I feel it would do them a disservice if I did not at least offer to share."
"No one is suggesting that anything you do is inferior," he continued. "Seeking to be the champion in everything you do is a very fine goal, and far be it from me, or anyone else, to say otherwise."
"So, tell me about this latest project of yours."
"You hold far more compassion than one would consider you to," Achilles recognized, "Perhaps we are not so different, blacksmith." Only Achilles felt these last few months he was loosing that compassion, which gave Hybris easy access to mold him. She was the devil on his shoulder, feeding his ego even when he was not in her presence or in her bed.
It wasn't just enough sometimes to be given acknowledgment. The hunger Achilles had for glory was as strong as a cancer gnawing away at the body. It was a plague, it consumed him. He hadn't long been out of the life of a soldier to differentiate how to cope with the lasting effects, though he was attempting it.
"Blind to any of the media as of late? My latest project was a monumental success." Despite what any writer would say, she was one out of many that disagreed, but Achilles' reputation had proceeded him as the famed director Adrianus. "Even Thetis came to the premiere, I was certain you along with the rest of the Greek clan would have as well."
"I am just full of surprises," Hephaestus replied. "And no, perhaps we are not. Although no one has ever said I am full of compassion," he mused, smiling just slightly. "So I suppose I should say thank you."
"Actually, I have been," he said. "I don't really watch a lot of television, so I'm out of the loop, as they say, when it comes to new movies and things. I wasn't even aware the premiere had taken place, but if I had known and been invited, I would have come."
The casual conversation was oddly putting the old warrior into a simplistic state of mind, bringing him back down to reality. Hybris hadn't completely broken his control yet, as Achilles was a hard man to push to the breaking point, which had a lot to do with being given his mother's perseverance.
It even made the warrior crack the smallest of smiles, a clear enough break in behavior to show that there was still some influence floating around him. Sitting up straight, Achilles looked towards Hephaestus with less indignation than he had previous.
"Perhaps you need to be familiarized with my work. Clearly, nothing mere mortal directors introduce can begin to scale what I understand of war." Film wasn't just an act of story-telling for Achilles, it was a way to connect, to not feel so alone in this world of grappling with what years of war did to a man who was no longer the warrior. There was an ease in this conversation now, and perhaps the golden fighter was opening the door for invitation. Thetis had always held the lame blacksmith in high regard, and he was one of few gods that Achilles would share a respect with even if he felt tension. Achilles had also never had his father figure around, with the exception of Odysseus, but there was something to be said that he was being so open.
"I am writing something new." He had to keep himself busy or the stagnant life frustrated him, which was perhaps another outlet Hybris used to her advantage. "About Vietnam." It wasn't until that war that this fighter had finally been forced to put up his armor and his weapons of destruction.
"Perhaps I do," Hephaestus replied. "I am certainly amenable to a good film every now and again. And that is certainly true, your knowledge vastly outstrips theirs," he agreed. It was perfectly true, Achilles had been a warrior as long as he'd been alive, it was safe to say he one of the best, if not the best.
"Then I look forward to seeing it when it is finished," he said. "But until then, which one of your films would you recommend I watch first?"
He was stronger yet, which was why Hybris could only dig but so far. That was for the time being, for every man, even a warrior as swift and strong as he would break.
A chuckle hit followed by that arrogant smirk against his lips. Hephaestus may be paying flattery, but he was an honest man---and charmed or not by a goddess, Achilles could appreciate that.
He may look the part of a twenty-five year old that so many around him only saw as young and temperamental--which was perhaps still very true, but there were years behind him that many could not begin to think a man could live through. It was that side that had endured what every good soldier did, suffering through what was left when he returned home. That was the side that left Hephaestus with something more genuine. "They speak of film as if it is a mere campaign for entertainment---it is more than that. War is no gentle story, it is a lust that men who face it lay with for the rest of their lives." It was there that Achilles admitted that he did not create films for sheer enjoyment, though his hunger for glory would always capture his heart over anything else, it was honestly for his own peace of mind.
"None other than the one you failed in seeing opening night." His face had only been plastered over all the posters as it was the first movie he'd not only directed, but acted in as well.
"You do not have to tell me war is no gentle story, Achilles, I have fought a few in my time, as well," Hephaestus replied, voice perfectly even. Better to relate than to criticize, with the state that Achilles was in. And now that he thought about it, this was a different kind of anger than was normal for Achilles, it burned hotter than he'd ever seen. A measure of concern flared in his mind.
"At the risk of sounding like a parent again, Achilles, are you alright?" he asked, trying for equal parts concern and calm. "You seem...not quite yourself. Perhaps it's not my place to say so, but I will say it anyway. If something is wrong...you can tell me."
"Then I shall look into viewing it as soon as I can," he said. "I'll stop by one of those video stores the mortals are so fond of."
There was a surge of pressure beating against his temples. For a moment he may have confided in another that he had thrown himself into a posionus mistresses' grasp. Her lies, his ache, the combination that could only turn for the worst.
That voice. Her voice...
Achilles massaged the heavy pound with his fingers, not yet answering the blacksmith. "What draws you to such a conclusion?" he asked already back on the defense. "Keep your concerns to those who care."
His eyes closed for a moment with a heavy sigh, leaning back against the bench. Back to the topic of his film he responded more casually. "I may be willing to give you a copy." There was that arrogant smirk again.
Hephaestus raised an eyebrow again. "You would do well to remember who you are speaking to," he said, no threat yet, but the potential for there to be one simmering just beneath the surface.
He watched Achilles massage his temples as he continued, "I drew that conclusion from simply observing your behavior, you seem to be agitated and in pain, enough to manifest outward signs at least. I thought it polite to at least ask."
"I would like that," he replied. "Perhaps then I can give you a well-informed opinion."
What little tension Achilles held for the god was enough to keep him snapping back, when considering his mother's acceptance of Hephaestus, and his own bad bout from speaking out of place with gods before, Achilles would have stepped back. He did not disrespect Hephaestus, and he never disgraced his mother, but already insignificant things were starting to keep him in a fit of rage.
He glanced in such a way that dared Hephaestus to challenge---even threaten him again as he would not stand for it. There was a nasty fire in his eyes that was not just that of an obsessive warrior, it was more.
"There is no need for concern, blacksmith. It remains no business of yours," though it was possibly more obvious now in his softer tone that he was fighting whatever had taken ahold of him.
"Perhaps you could. Then you will understand my frustration with these abject accusations. I know what I am doing," though clearly Hephaestus had never said otherwise.
Hephaestus was aware of the effect his words would have on Achilles. But there was only so much he could allow, and Achilles was right on the edge. He was not oblivious to the look in his eyes, to his expression, but sometimes one had to push, to poke the uncomfortable places to get all of the required information.
"If it is no concern of mine, then I shall withdraw the question," he said, folding his hands on his knee. "But not the offer. If you should ever wish to speak to me, about anything, you know you have only to say so. I am always willing to listen."
"No one has ever said that you do not," he replied mildly. "And now I am most curious to see this film of yours."
"Then consider the offer taken into consideration." Hephaestus was treading into territory Achilles was not comfortable with, as of at this point he still felt he had his own control over any influence---it was that fighter's spirit.
"Any work of mine is something worth the curiosity. I shall look forward to hear your thoughts. It is in fact the first film of mine that I performed in as well."
"That is all that I ask," Hephaestus replied, sensing that this was a topic he'd do well to steer away from, so he shifted back to less personal things.
"I'm sure that it is," he said, finishing his coffee. "I shall view it and let you know my thoughts on it. I have no doubt your performance was exemplary."
It was a smart move on Hephaestus' part to forgo anymore interrogation, though the old god was doing it in a manner that rationally speaking, Achilles would appreciate. Right now he was just on edge.
Paying compliments was softening his mood, building that ego. For a moment he'd forgotten just how challenging the process had been and the setbacks his film had been put through. The outcome was much more the prize, and hard work was not something he let go by. "Hard work and knowledge is success. Greatness does not come often, these people need remember that." He'd found some satisfaction in staring in his own role, but what most saw as acting was far from it.
Achilles quirked a brow, finding more of himself relaxed in the conversation. "What life do you lead now, blacksmith?"