Rick
The Artisan's Quarter is a district within Hephaestus Forge, featuring rows of workshops and studios where skilled craftsmen practice their trades. From sculptors creating divine statues to jewelers crafting intricate accessories, this quarter celebrates the diversity of artistic endeavors inspired by the god of craftsmanship.
John
*'We'll talk later. I have to go for now before I'm late.'* 

Arsenio had smirked down at Hyacinthus, parting ways from their make out session just before he had run into Douglas. 
And afterwards, he was in a sour mood. 
His bike helmet had been cracked from where he hit that idiot in the head with it. Thankfully his knuckles weren't bleeding, but were extremely sore. 
He'd wrapped them so he could atleast grab the blow pipe and turn it - even though it was a delicate movement. It required the dexterity he didn't quite have right after a full out brawl. Healing would he slow unless he slowed down. 

Arsenio had left for dinner, and then returned to the Artisan's Quarter late. He hadn't been checking his phone and had plenty missed messaged from Hyacinthus.
He's been so wrapped up in trying to reel his anger and frustration, and pour it into something productive that he just hadn't been easy to reach all day. 
It was night time, now.

Sorry. Didn't mean to dip.
Got into a fight in the square in the Ares' plaza by none other than Ares' fucking kid.
Don't really know what his problem was. 

Arsenio gave texting a break, standing to go and retrieve some coffee. He was glad to finally giving his hands something warm to hold onto that wasn't scorching. 
In the background, he listened to hum of the crucible, constantly heating and keeping the glass molten. The caffeine was needed.
He felt his phone vibrate against the top of his thigh and unlocked it to read Hya's message, surprised that he was still awake. 
He wasn't used to the God's that needed only a quarter of the rest that he needed.

I'm down in the AQ if you want to join.

||
Jolynn
For Hyacinthus, the day had different connotations. The time he'd spent with Arsenio had led to a breakthrough in his circumstances, helping him bridge the gap that formed between his understanding of mortals, or those who lived in proximity to them, and his indifference to what had become of them. He was kind, he was accommodating, but more than that, he was *Indulgent.* A treat so sweet and so unstinting that the small amount of time they spent together over the last few weeks, however fleeting, had realised him to one obvious fact. 

He used to be one of them. 

Now, at least, he remembered what the thrill of adventure truly felt like.

Arsenio, for all his camaraderie, struck that chord perfectly in the young god he had become so fond of. Their rendezvous grew quickly from a few stolen pecks to a full-blown make-out session that spanned hours against the backdrop of the view of Ares' Plaza, where warriors practised their craft in the grandeur of their patron. Had he not been so distracted by Arsenio's magnetism, Hyacinthus would have had far more time to focus on the romance of the location. But as perfect as it *Was,* He knew that all dreams came to an end - even if temporarily.

📱: *I know. I will see you soon, Arsenio. Here's one last kiss so that you don't forget. 💋*

The boys parted ways reluctantly, but their next meeting was organised beforehand. Hyacinthus returned to his cottage and Arsenio left promptly in kind, but soon found himself at odds with none other than the son of Ares, whose distaste for seeing his father's sacred land twisted into a playground of sin led him to confront his counterpart with haste. After a brief escalation of words, the two demigods began to trade blows, ending in what could only be described as carnage.

At his cottage, the young god reminisced on his day and the demigod he'd spent it with. He lost himself in remembrance of their time in the sunshine, safely tucked away up where nobody could see them - or so they *Thought.* The sun bathed his soft skin in a golden glow as their lips locked in a slow dance of growing fire, threatening to lay waste to everything surrounding them with the blazing stroke of its heat. In those moments, he knew only the sounds of Arsenio's low voice, but a whisper by his ear.

📱: *Hello, Captain. I hope you drove safely.*

The touch of his calloused fingers as they traced daringly against the skin of the god's neck. 

📱: *I am worried about you, Nio.*


And the sound of his breath as it hitched at Hyacinthus' fingers tracing softly over the skin on the back of his neck.

Eventually, the harrowing wait for *Any* Signal was over. He was ok, but still reeling from his altercation with Doug. Thankfully, it did not take long for the young god to arrive and meet him at the Forge, where he arrived as invited in a small flash of golden light and the sound of sweet birdsong which tweeted and chirped in the dead of night. There before him stood Arsenio, his bruised knuckles wrapped and clutched around a hot cup of coffee. Hyacinthus closed their distance immediately, keeping his voice soft as he cradled the back of the demigod's sore hand.

**"I know what you're going to say,"** His voice was sweet and honeyed, a little smile creeping over his face as he tilted his head back and glanced up at him. **"That I should see the other guy. I'm sure that he looks far worse."** He chuckled and gave him a look of understanding. **"I won't ask a thousand questions. But I am going to stay here with you."**
John
Arsenio looked up from the cup of coffee, startled. The golden light and birdsong, however brief was not something that he was used to hearing or seeing in the dead of night... Much less a God teleporting to him. 
It was only a method of transportation, but not one that the demigod was used to seeing. He was still a peoduct of modernity, where Gods and Mortals rarely mingle, and everyone drove in traffic.
However, it was hard to stay perplexed at Hyacinthus as he enveloped his hands around his own. His knuckles throbbed under the touch, but it wasn't anything he hadn't felt before.

Hot light from the crucible of glass nearby illuminated the both of them, and Arsenio had been quietly studying the God up until this point. 
He sipped his coffee.

**"I would have, but you have a way of stealing words right of my mouth before I can get a chance to say them. We're not a mind reader, are you?"** 
A little glimmer of humor caught the reflection of Arsenio's chestnut colored eyes.

**"What had you so worried if you knew I'd kick his ass?"** He questioned, a smirk pulling up one side of his lips, looking down at the other male.
There was something inherently calming about the God, and it still felt unreal to have the attention of such a figure. 
It was safe to say that their situationship was offering him some semblance of normalcy, but also constantly reminding him of where he stood: among Gods. 
His life was changing, and deep down... He didn't know what to do with any of it. 

**"I never thought fighting Ares' son would feel like a regular Tuesday,"** He shook his head a bit, glancing to the glowing orange of molten glass to the right of them. 

**"Have you ever fought another God?"**

||
Eric
The Forge was alive with the sound of fire and rust, its light searing through the darkness outside like a raging inferno. Dancing inside the glass, the flames moved erratically and cast undulating shadows against the rough-hewn walls as both boys stood in a secluded corner. Both their figures were silhouetted against the vibrant blaze; Arsenio's tall and broad-shouldered, and Hyacinthus' smaller and more slight. 

The warmth of the forge's fire caressed them both as the tang of metal and the smoky scent of burning coal, mingled with the scent of grass and fresh air. Inside the young god's hands, Arsenio's red knuckles throbbed with the pangs of pain, which prompted his smaller companion to loosen his grip. Slowly but surely, he grazed the pad of both of his thumbs across their ridged and chiselled shape, doing his best to soothe how swollen they had become. 

**"I promise I'm not,"** The violet-eyed boy said with a gentle smile, letting out an audible chuckle. **"I can see memories, but I would never dare to invade a person's privacy without permission."** He saw the glint of mischief in the hunk's eye, returning Arsenio's smirk with a more sincere look. **"Especially not yours. I would** ***Never*** **Do that to you, Nio."**

He let his eyes linger for a beat to drum home his point, hoping Arsenio would truly believe him. He understood the risk he ran earning the boy's suspicion by clarifying that he could indeed see inside people's heads, but the exact details as to how were important to make known. Consent aside, his connection with the demigod ran so deep that he could empathise and understand his feelings with just a mere exchange of words. 

When Arsenio joked about his fight with Douglas, the smaller boy tipped his head back and glared at him invitingly. As much as demigod struggled with his hotheaded nature, Hyacinthus did not find it quite as alarming. A difference in perspective, perhaps, characterised by his predisposition for empathy, the god saw it merely as passion and verve, which simply needed to be fine-tuned at times. Arsenio was many things, but a bad person he was not.

**"I suppose I worry about you."** He smiled. **"I know you don't need my help. I know your strength better than anyone."** On the back of his head in the bathroom the night they met at the party. **"Physically, you make it seem like you're the god here instead of me. But I know how losing your temper affects you..." ** He trailed off gently, trying his hardest not to seem judgemental or presumptuous. **"I don't like to think about you being alone when you feel that way. Even if I'm glad you kicked his ass."**

It went silent momentarily as the evening wind whistled and swept past both of them, tossing the tousled brown curls on top of the god's head. **"Have** ***I*** **Ever fought a god?"** Hyacinthus asked. **"Maybe once or twice. But that isn't nearly as sexy as watching you throw a punch. Where were you when I was learning close-quarters combat back in Sparta?"**

||
John
The taller arched an eyebrow, listening to Hya's abilities. As he called him "Nio", and watched his expression surf on the too perfect features of the God, Arsenio was all too aware that this... Was loosening boundaries. 
But he had to question whether or not there were really any boundaries to begin with. 
There weren't any words when they'd first met, just locked eyes and the innate need to wrap their arms around eachother as they moved on the dance floor. 
The kisses came soon after. The demigod sipped his coffee, remembering the taste of pomegranate liquor and lemon and ginger beer. Though his coffee wasn't nearly as good that night had tasted, especially whatever drink it had been on the God's tongue.
There were no boundaries to be found as he hoisted Hyacinthus up and pressed him against the stall of the club bathroom. He really hadn't meant to hurt the God, and he felt so bad, he was apologizing while kissing him.

There hadn't been any boundaries the second time they'd met up, finding a shadowed place to tongue tango for a little while. 
Even now, as Arsenio looked into pearlescent purple hues, he knew the other man would taste just as good the third time. 

Just something to drink or chew on wasn't all he saw in Hyacinthus, but for the first time... He found himself in a position he didn't think he'd find himself before.

Arsenio found himself grinning as the other aksed him where he was when he was learning combat in Sparta. 

**"I don't even think I was a thought in my dad's pants,"** He chuckled, hiding his smile with his coffee momentarily.
Then it was quiet for another beat and Arsenio leaned back on a table with one hand holding him up, and the coffee cup was used to gesture.

**"You worry alot about someone who's just a hook up-"** He tested, not quite meeting Hyacinthus' eyes

Yet, but instead, finding the blaze of the crucible and staring just around the mouth of the opening, idly noting the glass that had fallen to the concrete. 

||
Eric
Arsenio's countenance told a different story to the words that left his lips. The first thing that the young god noticed was the shift in his expression from kind to indifferent, clearly feigned in what he surmised was an attempt to combat the uncertainty of their changing relationship. His words wounded him, but Hyacinthus did not show it, alleviating the pangs of hurt that began to take root in his chest. Hopefully, he thought to himself, Arsenio was scared and did not mean it.

**"Maybe not,"** He said with an amused grin as the taller boy joked. **"But I will pretend not to be offended at you calling me old. Would you believe me if I told you I was a skilled warrior?"** Hyacinthus asked, a look of curiosity washing over his rosy, handsome face. **"Not the best, but certainly good with a sword."** There was a pause, followed by a shy smile that grew across his lips. **"Not in that way either."**

Both boys went quiet for a moment. Silence crept in as the ambience of their environment punctuated it, the sounds of the Forge seeming louder than they ordinarily were. The young god let his violet eyes drift down from Arsenio's, following the veins in his neck until they rested on the collar of his shirt as the boy leaned back against the table behind him. No such stranger to the art of courtship, it was obvious to both of them that their relationship was beginning to shift. What began as a brief, lust-filled encounter in a club grew into the occasional late-night rendezvous over the month or so, propelling the god and demigod into something a little more than either of them had anticipated.

Arsenio it seemed was apprehensive, but Hyacinthus knew that for him, navigating the complexities of sex, love, and relationships was very different. When *He* Had been a mortal, his susceptibility to succumb to fear during his adventures with Apollo was just as potent; he often found himself dissuaded from confronting the growing romance that blossomed between them. Over the millennia, however, he had come to understand himself somewhat better and found peace and acceptance with the fact he was truly a romantic who longed to once again experience the blissful joy of love. 

**"I know."** He said quietly as Arsenio's scathing remark cut deep, the evening breeze casting caramel curls across his forehead as the wind whistled with a wistful whisper. **"But I suppose it's a little pointless trying to pretend I don't. I've never been a good liar. But no, Nio,"** His eyes returned to find the taller boy's pair, which were fixed on the mouth of the fiery crucible. **"I don't like to think about you being alone with your anger. Is that wrong?"** 

It went quiet again. Rather than getting lost in his own head, Hyacinthus let his eyes drift to the mouth of the crucible too, chewing idly on the inside of his bottom lip. **"I'm sorry. I'll stop. So what was it that set Douglas off? I didn't think a son of Ares was silly enough to let a kiss between two people he hardly knows bother him."**
John
Arsenio's gaze drifted back between them, but not yet to Hyacinthus' face. It hovered in the few inches of space between them. A space that felt cold and void even with the crucible lighting up in the area in a warm glow. 
The demi god couldn't pretend that he didn't understand what Hyacinthus was offering him when he asked that question. It sounded like safety: the kind of sacrifice people in relationships give for their significant others when they know things will be hard. 

After a moment, and letting Hyacinthus speak, Arsenio suddenly cut in before he could really finish. He's cut in between the words "Let a kiss..."

**"I asked."** 
He started, but realized that he didn't really put in any context. 

**"I don't want to talk about Douglas or Ares or anything of that- mostly because I didn't ask. I just... Threw punches."** 
The taller man seemed somewhat exasperated by his own actions, and simultaneously at peace with them. 

**"But what I had asked or rather said - was in relation to..."** 
There was no better way to put it, and finally Arsenio met Hyacinthus' eyes. 

**"...Us."** 

Arsenio set his coffee cup down, reaching up to gently pull Hyacinthus' lip from the pinch of his teeth. He lewned forwards just a little bit, watching those violet eyes watch him in return.
 
Other than stating the obvious fact about them, he didn't know what else to say. Maybe he wanted Hyacinthus to continue to confirm that this wasn't just some hook up now, or situationship or whatever word people used for "Non traditional relationship" Nowadays. 

||