bakerstreet | a scar means i survived } scars meme

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a scar means i survived } scars meme

the s c a r s meme

Most everyone has some sort of scar. Some are from happy accidents. Some are from events you'd rather not speak about. Sometimes, people can share a moment over scars: Be it friendly, romantic, or even with a complete stranger. These are those moments.

01. NEW: the scar is fairly new-- maybe you still need to do something to make sure it heals properly. maybe you're just worried about the new scar that's appeared on someone you care about.

02. DISCOVERY: you've just had someone find out about your scars, or you've just accidentally learned that the other person has scars. do you say something, or let the moment pass?

03. SHAME: maybe you're ashamed of your scars. maybe you want someone else to know that there's no need to hide their scars around you.

04. SHOW: you're proud of your scars, or at least you don't see a reason to keep them covered-- never have, or not anymore. or maybe someone is showing you their scars for the first time.

05. STORY: it's time to talk about the story behind your scars. or, perhaps, it's time to listen to someone tell you about how they came about their scars.

06. TOUCH: maybe you want someone to touch your scars so you can remind yourself you're still here. maybe you want to touch their scars because you want to show them you don't mind them.

07. ATTRACTION: you've heard that people like someone with scars, so you're flaunting them, or you're the person very attracted to someone with scars.

08. KISS: letting this person kiss your scars may be a moment of extreme vulnerability, or just something you like. kissing someone else's scars may be just what you need to do to show someone how much you care.

09. SOULMATE: you live in a world where your soulmate's scars appear on your own skin. what's that like?

10. OTHER: wildcard option.

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Post with your character's name and canon, if you're interested in gen/shipping/etc., and maybe a list of some of their scars. Reply to other people's comments by picking RNG for an option, or pick your own!

Warning: May have reference to abuse, torture, violence, self-harm, or similar.

A mash up of several other scar memes.

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Ganymede, enjoying the reaction to what he was doing, still didn't quite notice how deeply it was affecting Robin until he's on the edge of prompting his friend again - or just plain laughing.

Somehow, he manages to not do the latter, though there's a wide, sparkling smile on his face, and Robin himself answers before he can do the former. Anticipation keeps Ganymede from making any teasing comment, and he shields his eyes against the afternoon sun as Robin stretches out, then lurches forward, up.

There might have been a moment of slight awkwardness in the transition from ground to air, but once up in the air this sinuous shape is as graceful as it was on the ground. The only difference to seeing the local dragons fly and Robin borrowing the shape of a distant relative, if that's what all dragons are to each other, is in the the array of colourful feathers, rippling in the wind. Ganymede smiles, then presses his lips together, freezing as he, too hears the shouts.

Robin comes down, then, and Ganymede tries not laugh but this time he's failing to hold himself back, hands on his knees, shoulders shaking.

"I didn't--- Oh. Didn't think about other people seeing you! Probably just as well, that you came down. Those poor nymphs." Ganymede's still breathless with laughter as he straightens up, squinting at Robin. It's not that he doesn't feel apologetic for having scared the nymphs, but, well. It's funny too. "But that was beautiful. The feathers really changes a lot, compared to our dragons, even if they're otherwise rather similar."

"Neither did I," Robin admits, and if it's possible for an enormous snake to look sheepish by flattening the great ruff of feathers around its head, he succeeds. "I was going to ask if you wanted to climb on, but perhaps you'd need to explain things to everyone else on Olympus, first!" He really doesn't enjoy the thought of being pursued by say...Artemis. With Ares. He's not exactly invulnerable to injury in any form, even if nothing but actual iron is likely to kill him.

He doesn't quite want to change back yet, so he reverses, turning belly-up but continuing his slow circles. Fanning his feathers, he performs a set of gradual rolls, twisting until he starts to make himself dizzy. He untwists again and settles back onto the ground with only the slightest ungainly bump.

Finally, he condenses back into his preferred bipedal shape--or rather, the one to which he's growing reattached. Everything feels heavier after the brief period of weightless flight, but there's a certain comfort in gravity, too, and in the tickling of the grass against his feet. "I think of dragons here as being more tied to water," he says, letting himself collapse bonelessly onto his back. "Maybe that makes some of the difference."

"Probably would have to explain things first," Ganymede agrees with an equally sheepish smile. "But maybe we can do that at some other time."

Getting to ride a feathered snake while flying? Yeah, Ganymede still wants to do that, but it doesn't need to mean it has to be now. Grinning as he watches Robin turn and twist around just a meter above the air, so slowly that alone is impressive, it's almost surprising when he settles himself back in a shape Ganymede is far more familiar with.

"Oh, yes." With a blink, Ganymede nods. "That's true. They really are. They can fly, of course, but springs are a favourite haunt. The feathered snakes seem more... air?"

He can't feel the element of something, of course, and while there was no great difference in watching one of the snake-like dragons from here fly free in the air and watching Robin, air still seems more fitting. Nudging the closest bit of leg next to him, Ganymede smiles down at Robin.

"I'd hate to disturb you, and if you want to rest for a little longer, I'll just sit down, but otherwise we could go over to Hephaestus' with the camera."

There's two cameras, of course, but Ganymede will focus on his own later. The recording has both of them and Hephaestus very interested in the result, so that should, then, come first.

Some northern European dragons seem to favor water, too--wyrms, particularly, but occasionally wyverns. Maybe basilisks fall into a sort of dragon subcategory, as well, and they were often blamed for poisoning wells. Robin is trying to decide if tatzelwurms fall under the heading of dragon or cat or both when Ganymede nudges him and he refocuses his wandering attention. "Oh. Oh. No, I definitely don't want to wait!"

He's upright in a moment, on his feet a moment later, though he does pause to untangle the bit of vine that has already woven itself into his hair. Tempted to fling it aside, he forces himself to slow long enough to let it coil gently back into the grass.

While Robin has a fairly good sense of direction here on Olympus, he's glad enough to follow Ganymede's lead. He's met Hephaestus a couple of times but doesn't know his habits well. He's always, always working on something intriguing, however, and sometimes his workspace reveals a hint of whatever he's currently puzzling over in the moments after Ganymede's arrival. His palace is just as fascinating, the interior and exterior different every time Robin happens by it--or through it--on his visits. From deep inside come a number of mysterious mechanical sounds.

It's an enormous temptation all around. Robin stays away from it whenever he's not in the company of Ganymede or Hermes...and sometimes not even with Hermes, who makes for a very poor chaperone when Robin is trying to improve his behavior. Ganymede is a much better influence. "How long do you suppose it will take to develop?" he asks, then pauses and shrugs with a wry grin. "I have no idea if 'develop' is even the best term. Process? Render?" Better to wrestle down his impatience and temper his enthusiasm with practical considerations.

Humming thoughtfully, Ganymede has to shrug, in the end.

"I don't really know. Considering Hephaesthus might use some power to speed the process up, as well, it might not even be anything close to how it usually works." Ganymede laughs, shaking his head. "I wasn't sure what we were going to do about actually... developing? rendering? the finished recording for viewing, if there is one, but when I brought up the idea to him, he said not to worry about it."

Letting Hephaestus take care of that whole process was something Ganymede was more than glad to do, in all honesty. This being new, he'd need a lot more time than just figuring out how to operate the camera itself before he threw himself into actually dealing with the resultant little movie itself.

"When I develop my photographs, however, I do it alone, and by the actual method," Ganymede adds, a soft little smile creeping up on his face. "Hephaestus taught me how, and he remodelled a small room in his palace for me to use for it."

That Hephaestus might have an entirely divine way of completing the process is actually an excellent point, and Robin echoes Ganymede's shrug. "He'll surely have an effective way of doing it, whatever that might be." If it doesn't turn out--if nothing shows up, or all the images are blurry--he might eventually find a way of fixing that, too. Even if regular film isn't capable of recording magic, in other words, he can probably find a workaround of his own.

That's almost reassuring. If that's the only solution, a divine or otherwise magical process would prevent unwary mortals from documenting beings that might be better left alone.

"No matter what the results are, they should be instructive," he says with a grin. Ganymede's description of his darkroom, along with that enchanting little smile, raises his eyebrows. "I think you're required to show me that, now that you've mentioned it." Especially since that expression suggests this is something Ganymede has truly come to love, probably as more than simply a hobby, and in that case, Robin is eager to see anything he's willing to share.

They've reached Hephaestus' palace, and this time the exterior is some mysterious sort of bright and shifting metal that reflects the afternoon light like liquid mercury. Robin can't quite help reaching out to touch it when they step through the threshold. Under his fingertips, it feels solid enough.

He undoubtedly would, and it wasn't reliant on either of them needing to know anything to help. Just as well. They'd get their answer. And if the film wasn't able to be rescued without divine power, they'd still have the delight of watching Robin changing shape on screen, but it wouldn't be something just anyone could do.

"What are you hoping for?" Ganymede asks, curious. He knows what Robin said when they met in London, and it had been a funny idea, but was it truly a good - or safe - one? "And I will."

Laughing, pleased for Robin's request, Ganymede watches Robin touch the metal of the entrance with a little grin.

"I did that the first time I saw this, too. Still get the urge to, every time I come here."

It's almost hypnotizing, in a way.

"I'm not even sure," Robin confesses, giving the wall another fascinated stroke before pulling his hand away with a little grin. "I want it to work, because that would be marvelous. But I'm afraid that if it does work, everyone of my sort will have to take much greater care from here on out." The grin transforms into a rueful curve of his lips. "So that worries me." He shrugs one shoulder and follows Ganymede along a wide hallway with arches opening up to either side.

Now that he's inside, the heavy scent of metal presses in from every direction, and he recalls a reason--besides avoiding temptation--that he tends not to stay overlong in this particular palace. It isn't quite the same as mortal-worked metal, and it doesn't burn as iron does, on every breath. It's still not entirely comfortable.

He does succeed in keeping his hands mostly to himself, as a result. Despite a great many intriguing objects and devices perched on pedestals along the corridors.

"I do hope the photographs work," he says. "I'd like to have at least one or two pictures of the two of us together." Portraits, posed and precise as they are, lack the same extemporaneous charm. "Even if I'm only in a human shape, rather than something fantastical." If he particularly hopes that the one with Ganymede receiving an affectionate deer-kiss comes out, well, who can entirely blame him?

[Did you want to write Hephaestus? Or should I take a crack at it?]

"Whatever we might want, maybe it would be better if the results are terrible," Ganymede comments with a nod as they continue inside. "At least the film, if not the photographs. And if even those don't work out... at least the ones with you more transformed? since you've been in pictures, haven't you? then we'll still have them."

Hephaestus will rescue something from the negatives, no matter what, but Ganymede can't see why it won't work without extra divine intervention, so to speak. If Robin can turn up in photographs in his regular human shape, then it should work for the rest - at the very least the animal ones. Ganymede harbours some suspicion that, if there is trouble at all, it's because of the active and greater presence of magic whenever Robin transformed that might be a problem.

"The photographs will be fine," a deep, rolling voice says, soft despite its timbre, as Hephaestus comes to stand in a nearby doorway, waving them over. "One way or another, as you say, Prince Ganymede. Puck."

Hephaestus stands, tall and broad-shouldered and sooty, as if his smaller, slightly twisted legs aren't affecting him at all. Ganymede knows that's because he's standing still. Walking is always more troublesome.

"That's what I thought," he says, smile bright on his face, and offers up the camera with the film they'd made inside. It looks rather small, when Hephaestus takes it in his great hand.

"If you want to watch, you're welcome to do so."

[ ;) we can both do it, as needed.]

Robin nods, thoughtful. "I don't know that I've ever turned up in photographs in anything but human shape, but you're right--I'm not sure why any other shape should be different, providing I'm not...actively shifting between one thing or another, I suppose." Then the image would probably be blurry, but whether that was due to magic itself or just rapid movement would be another question. They've probably made themselves a suitable control for the purposes of this experiment, anyway.

He startles ever so slightly when Hephaestus speaks. In spite of their size, all the Olympians are capable of moving nigh silently when they choose, and the god of craftsmen is no exception, for all that his domain usually involves a great lot of noise. All that ticking and clinking and banging goes on, distantly, in the background of the palace. Robin chooses to blame those distractions rather than his own inattention.

"Yes!" he answers before Ganymede has a chance to so much as open his mouth, and he subsides with his most charming smile. "Um. Yes please."

Hephaestus' arched brow suggests that Robin's charm works about as well as Hermes' does, which is to say not at all. Honest enthusiasm must make up for something, however, because he only shakes his head before leading the way back into the room beyond the doorway. "Come along, then, and we'll see what we shall see."

The only risk, of course, if Robin does turn up in his more fantastical guises in the photographs with no particular additional effort in the developing process, then the Fey really are going to have to take more care in general. Turning up on film, especially while doing magic, is of course far more troublesome, but a lot more people carry cameras to take photographs with them, now that they're far more easily portable.

But they both know that. Ganymede doesn't mention it, and then Hephaestus is eyeing Robin like he's weighing whether to take his offer back or not. He doesn't, of course. If he's gotten to the point of offering, he wouldn't withdraw it, but the caution is a little funny, still.

If, perhaps, well-earned, even if Robin isn't in the mind to be mischievous right now or purloining interesting items that really doesn't belong to him. Smothering a grin, Ganymede gently elbows Robin as they follow Hephaestus inside, where he's being lightly guided deeper inside by his golden statues.

Or well, robots, more like. That there's a word now that fit better for something that Hephaestus had made thousands of years ago is pretty amazing.

"However it goes, I'll show you my dark room after," Ganymede leans in to murmur in Robin's ear.

Attempting a demonstration of good will--and good behavior--Robin clasps his hands at his back and only jostles Ganymede a very little bit in return. "You'd better," he whispers back with a quick flash of a grin. The automatons always make him uneasy, fascinating as they unquestionably are, and he follows Hephaestus in a way that keeps both the god and Ganymede mostly between him and them. Something about them makes him feel as though they're constantly watching him with unblinking focus.

That might actually be the truth. Hephaestus' skills extend far beyond Robin's minuscule bits of understanding in the realm of physics, mechanics and technological possibilities. Nothing about the thought makes them less disquieting, and he picks up his pace to stay at Ganymede's side.

They pass through several more archways before arriving at a solid door, which one statue opens with a whisper of oiled hinges. A heavy chemical scent wafts out from the darkness within, and Robin flinches back for just a moment in instinctive repulsion before mastering himself and following yet again. Some things about the modern world--and technology in general, probably--will never be entirely comfortable for him, or so he suspects. Habituation can only go so far against basic nature.

The interior is unnervingly dark, even to Robin's excellent night vision, until Hephaestus claps his hands and the space fills with a kind of eerie, sourceless illumination. "No full darkroom necessary for my current technique," he says. Robin doubts he's imagining the warm note of pride, or perhaps just satisfaction, underlining Hephaestus's words. A number of tanks line the walls of the room, and the automatons go about readying a few of them.

The automatons have only ever been a source of fascination to Ganymede, so Robin's quite obvious attempt to keep both the god and Ganymede between himself and the quiet, golden figures draws his attention. Which is the reason he's looking in the right direction to see Robin flinch when the scent from the room they've reached smacks them in the face.

Ganymede doesn't much like it either, nose curling with it, but Robin...

"Are you all right?" Ganymede's whispering not because it'd be possible to keep it private from Hephaestus, as close as they're standing, but it feels more polite, even if he knows that Hephaestus wouldn't be insulted if Robin did end up needing to leave before they were done. Ganymede shoots a soft little grin up at the god.

"Truly a darkroom when you choose to leave it so, though, my lord," he says and Hephaestus, as he turns around, chuckles, the satisfaction sliding over into, perhaps, slightly smug amusement.

"It has its uses."

Robin nods, glancing at Hephaestus, but he's politely ignoring them. "Just always a little shock," he whispers back with a wry twist of a smile. There are plenty of reasons that so many fey keep as much distance as possible between technology of all sorts and themselves, and unpleasant reactions to chemicals are probably the least of them. He should still be fine enough for the duration. Fortunately, even if he does need a bit of a breather, he can pop outside for a minute or so without forcing anyone to open a door. Hephaestus' comment makes clear that total darkness won't be necessary anyway.

After his previous enthusiastic outburst, Robin vows to keep himself mostly out of the way, but he can't help peering into the vats from a distance. One of the liquids the automaton is pouring is definitely bleach of some variety, by the scent. The rest are much more of a mystery.

So is much of what happens next. Perhaps that's simply due to Robin's general inexperience with the process--he isn't exactly primed to understand it--or perhaps he's just lost after the first couple of steps. Hephaestus would probably explain if he asked, but he doesn't want to interrupt when a single misstep might ruin their film or try the patience of the god who's seen fit to help them.

Besides, Ganymede will almost certainly give him more details when they visit his darkroom, if Robin asks.

[*insert mystical film developing process here~*]

Ganymede nods, relaxing a little.

For a being so closely tied to forests and other green, growing things, it's not odd that Robin should react negatively to the presence of chemicals, even if they, really, are natural too. It's not the same thing, surely.

Ganymede ends up watching Robin as much as he watches Hephaestus and the developing process - some of it is familiar, certainly, but it's also different. On top of that, towards the end Hephaestus clearly pauses, frowning, and takes another couple few moments before he shakes his head, waving them forward as the film is put into a projector standing nearby.

"This ought to be sharp and legible to watch, now, but it's not something that would've been possible without some extra effort," Hephaestus says, his deep voice rolling through the space around them, filling it up.

"So if a mortal accidentally - or intentionally - tries to film a fey doing magic, it won't come out clear?" Ganymede asks, just to be sure. Maybe not the result Robin most wanted, for maximum shenanigans to be gained, but perhaps the best one.

"No." Hephaestus shakes his head, gently tapping the projector. "They will get something, certainly, and it will probably vary from time to time, but nothing so easily proven. And if the energies are volatile enough, it'd probably destroy not just the film used, but the recording device entirely.

"I never realized that I could be simultaneously so disappointed and so relieved," Robin says, with a wry chuckle. The more they've talked through the process and the potential results, the more he's come to terms with the risk such technology would pose not only to his own kind, but to magic users all across several planes of reality. "I suppose it's for the best, overall." He shoots Ganymede a little glint of a wicked grin. "And if the results are different every time, that should create a bit of minor chaos all on its own."

He can feel for the humans who are certain of what they saw, but unable to prove it...while also acknowledging a kind of irrepressible amusement at their misfortune. He is what he is, after all.

Now he can't help but wonder if capturing the effects of divine intervention and powers would suffer the same obscuring and unpredictable effects. He's uncertain about asking in front of Hephaestus, however, so he holds his tongue. While Hephaestus seems less likely to take offense than several of the other Deathless Ones, Robin isn't inclined to take too many chances without previous reassurance from Ganymede.

In any case, his attention refocuses completely once Hephaestus flicks on the projector. The images are...astoundingly clear, really, and he assumes that has everything to do with whatever process the god of crafting eventually used. Watching himself shift in and out of shapes on film, rather than in a mirror, is instructive--and perhaps a little uncomfortable--in ways he didn't expect. Not that he looks ridiculous, or anything so terrible, but he can certainly see a few opportunities for improvement, at least in the domain of pure showmanship. He darts a sideways glance at Ganymede, unable to deny a gripping desire to know exactly what he thinks.

"It is undoubtedly for the best," Hephaestus agrees quietly, frowning for perhaps more than one reason. Ganymede nods, but chuckles at Robin's comment.

"That definitely has applications on all its own," he agrees, smiling. Perhaps even more so, and safer, than magic in use being able to be captured effortlessly by current human technology. He can see Robin - and maybe a number of other lesser fey - having a lot of amusement on some poor human's behalf.

That thought falls away as the projector is flipped on, and he stares, wide-eyed and delighted, for the crisp, colourful images on display. It's tempting to reach out, for it looks just as when he was standing there recording. But also, somehow, it doesn't.

"It's so strange," he murmurs, shaking his head slowly and glancing to Robin, "I was right there watching you do this, but looking at it on a screen, it doesn't look entirely real. As if it is, or must be, just special effects."

He laughs softly, grinning now. "But it's really great to see it like this too."

Robin tilts his head to the side, considering that description, and then he nods. "It is a little like that, isn't it? Just...a step removed, somehow, from the reality." He supposes that film might necessarily always have that separation, even when shot from a first-person perspective. Perhaps there's no way to entirely remove the lens from the audience's frame of reference.

Not for now, at least. Who knows what the future might hold.

He grins at Ganymede. "I'm glad we gave it a try, anyway. Finding out the truth was more than worth a little experimentation." Now he has to wonder what it would look like without Hephaestus' miracle-working development process, of course, but he imagines he'll have far more chances to see that result than marvel over this one. "Could you maybe run it just once more?" he ventures to ask, turning to Hephaestus with an expression just shy of beseeching. The look he gets in response suggests that he needs to work on his delivery, but Hephaestus indulges him anyway, restarting the stretch of film from the beginning.

This time, Robin does his best to watch it with an eye toward enjoyment, rather than self-criticism, and he mostly succeeds. The transformation to dragon is particularly impressive--as well it probably should be--but perhaps the fact that the shift to goat is his favorite says everything about his personality.

Nodding as he watches the last couple moments of the film, Ganymede still feels vaguely baffled it really looks like it ought to be fake. Like there is no way that what appears on the projected screen could be real, despite that he was watching it happen as much with his own eyes as through the lens of the camera.

"Me too," he says, pleasure obviously warming his voice, and Ganymede suppresses a grin for the byplay between Robin and Hephaestus. Watches the little film as it's played again, smiling a little.

When it's done with, Hephaestus hands both of them a copy, but it's to Robin he looks.

"Your experimentation has been very interesting, and might be of use for more than the two of us, I am suspecting. Most wouldn't put themselves up for such a thing, no matter how harmless."

If he was someone else, Hephaestus might have clapped Robin on the shoulder, but he's reticent with physical touch as it is, so all he does is nod, his gratitude warming his deep voice and catching, just faintly, in his golden-brown eyes.

Which is always weird to Ganymede, especially when Hephaestus looks truly pleased, which is an expression he has see him with. It's weird because Hephaestus looks almost exactly like his mother, like an inverted, masculine version of Hera, and while Hera, too certainly is capable of smiles and laughter, she does not often do so with true freedom and warmth where anyone can see. Hephaestus is freer, and so it's a reminder of what Hera could look like, that's almost unsettling. Walking back down out into the corridor, Ganymede nods his head deeper into the palace.

"This way, though it's not far at all."

Robin takes the copy eagerly enough, but when Hephaestus speaks, he looks up at the god with a surprise that transforms gradually to pleasure and finally ends in open delight. He generally expects the Olympians--with the notable exception of Hermes--to put up with him for Ganymede's sake, so the clear demonstration of approval makes him fairly glow.

"I'm always interested in an experiment," he says, perhaps just a bit tentatively, because he doesn't want to assume, but... "And I wouldn't mind repeating this one, if there might be value to it."

Hephaestus doesn't seem as though he's simply being indulgent. The softened lines of his face look honestly pleased, so hopefully there's nothing to be lost by the offer. It's leaving things open just a crack rather than shutting a door completely, and if Hephaestus isn't interested or sees no potential knowledge to gain, they can leave things at that. Admittedly, Robin cherishes an unexpected little hope that he might have the chance to learn a few of this palace's more interesting secrets.

In any case, he follows Ganymede obediently out into the corridor. "I take it yours is a more traditionally dark darkroom?" he asks with a grin.

"It is," Ganymede agrees with a little laugh. "I don't exactly have powers to use to dispense with the manual development process, and I don't think I'd want to, either, even if I could."

He pauses thoughtfully, tapping his lips as he thinks it over, but just shakes his head. "I like it, the whole process, from setting up a shot, or spontaneously taking a picture, to developing it until I have it physically in my hand. I know Hephaestus usually uses as little power as necessary, too, when he makes things, and Athena is similar when she weaves."

The gods might add in power into what they make, for various effects, or pour it into the raw materials themselves to make the finished product something no mortal hands or technology can yet create - probably ever, even if humans sure get ideas the gods might not have thought of for they had no need of it. Glass so thin it truly should shatter under its own weight and internal tension, yet even divine strength can't break it; fine fabric with such threadcount it honestly should be impossible. Maybe other things, too, adding in things like the throne Hephaestus had enchanted so very long ago.

"I suppose I know what you mean," Robin says. Dancing isn't quite the same, because he isn't making anything physical, but he still prefers to put in the effort--even when magic often makes things easier. He gives Ganymede a grin. "Sometimes it's about the journey." Even when the journey ends in defeat or complete embarrassment, rather like the first few times he tried the flute. Despite the years of failure, he doesn't regret the time he devoted to the mastery of it.

And of course, sometimes magic makes the seemingly-impossible slightly more possible, or at least quite a bit more reachable, like it did when he was learning to dance again. He has Ganymede to thank for that.

He remembers to tuck the recording from Hephaestus away into a safe space as they arrive at another door. It's fairly nondescript, but it looks just as capable of keeping out the light as the door to Hephaestus' processing room. "I know light ruins film," he says, curious and suffering just a little pang of trepidation as Ganymede opens the door, even though he knows, intellectually, that nothing in there is currently developing. "But does it destroy it completely?"

The details aren't something he's ever investigated, but he supposes it's always good to know just how much and what kind of damage any carelessness could cause.

[I'm so sorry for being so slow. Work is just crazy right now and I think the holidays have put me in a weird headspace. -_-;]

"Exactly." He smiles, nodding, and pauses briefly with his hand on the doorknob at Robin's question, eyebrows arching. "If it's too early in the process, yes. But the only ones in here are already set, and unless you'd want to see how it works, we don't need to keep the light off."

Shaking his head, he pushes the door open the rest of the way and steps inside, flicking on the light.

"A lot of the lights come on automatically all over Olympus, by now," Ganymede comments as he walks inside to leave room for Robin to follow him, "the electricity has been really useful for those of us who can't turn on the light by just flexing their power at a distance, but it's even greater, like this."

The ease and convenience has given Ganymede a sense of what the gods surely have experienced this whole time. It's no wonder, really, that while Hephaestus surely could have come up with gas-powered lamps and electricity long before humans did, there was no real need to. Oil lamps, fires, and candles could be lit manually or by their power, and the power itself could be a light. What else would they need, really?

[Hey, no worries <3 it's definitely that time of year for several things. I hope work calms down soon, at least!]

Vaguely relieved, Robin follows him inside and glances around when the light flicks on. The space is small, but in a cosy rather than a cramped way, and it's similar enough to Hephaestus' darkroom that he can identify some of the containers and other objects. "I don't think I'll make you go through all of that, despite my curiosity," he says with a smile. He thinks he might understand the basics now, at least, after watching Hephaestus and the automatons--even if the result required divine intervention at the very end.

The chemicals in here are tidily sealed, so only the slightest hint lingers in the air, and it's hardly enough to notice, much less bother him.

"Oh no," he has to laugh, imagining Ganymede's difficulties before the gods extended their power to include him. He supposes he would have been just as thoughtless, when summoning up a little starlight has never been more than a moment of concentration and desire for him, too. Even in the aftermath of losing his wings, when magic had come so reluctantly, he'd always been able to reach for it, to touch it. "At least it puts you on slightly more even footing." He can't suppress his grin.

Watching humankind gradually develop the skill and the technology to replicate the effects, if not the actual substance, of divine power continues to fascinate him. There's something extraordinary--even oddly rewarding--about their successes.

"It's not that much, but the process isn't really much different from what Hephaestus did, despite it being film and not photographs," Ganymede promises with a laugh. "Though you basically have to do the various fixer baths and washing twice, once for the actual negatives and then again when you've set the finished negative on paper."

He shrugs, reaching up to unclip one of the photographs that's been left hanging to dry, handing it over to Puck. It's nothing terribly special as such, a picture taken in the moment of griffins playing in the air, but it's black and white, so the contrast between the dark animals and the pale sky is rather dramatic.

"It kind of does," he says with a smile, "though I'm sure no one would call it that. It makes things a lot easier, anyway, and I'm grateful. Not having to walk around in the dark until I can find a lamp to light does make a lot of things far more easier!"

Humming thoughtfully as he looks around the little darkroom, Ganymede leans on the table holding the shallow tubs for various sorts of solutions.

"Looking at it from this end, it's interesting what Hephaestus anticipated to create long before humans did, and what he - and the rest of the gods - didn't, simply because they didn't need it."

Humans do need technology in a manner the blessed immortals simply do not, and Ganymede guesses it's similar for the fey. On top of that they have issues with iron.

a scar means i survived } scars meme

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