Harry's Apartment: 36B - Olympian Meadows, NYC
He works.
He works in solitude, allowing no others into his shop as he usually does. He works quietly, the only sound the consistant crackle of the fireplace in the room next door, one that has never stopped crackling since he moved in. He shapes it, with hand and chisel and hammer, with blazing red tools heated only by his anger, by his rage. It is mishapen, large and foul and clunky. Everything it was meant to be.
Everything he would be bound to until he, until Harry, said he would be free.
The forge god works.
The forge god works in solitude.
The forge god works without violence...but with a heart so scarred by cruelty that he knows precisely how to form such scars on another.
Tezcatlipoca would pay for his crimes tonight in more than blood.
He works in solitude, allowing no others into his shop as he usually does. He works quietly, the only sound the consistant crackle of the fireplace in the room next door, one that has never stopped crackling since he moved in. He shapes it, with hand and chisel and hammer, with blazing red tools heated only by his anger, by his rage. It is mishapen, large and foul and clunky. Everything it was meant to be.
Everything he would be bound to until he, until Harry, said he would be free.
The forge god works.
The forge god works in solitude.
The forge god works without violence...but with a heart so scarred by cruelty that he knows precisely how to form such scars on another.
Tezcatlipoca would pay for his crimes tonight in more than blood.