Stavanger Bay nothing lasts forever, not even the best machines

There was a sound that pulled his large ears up and his carved figure slowly turned to face them. The stranger was painted with all the colors of a rich fall forest. Hephaestus was not pleased with such a burning presence. His sharp face tilted downwards ever so slightly, silver eyes staring at the stranger. Did they need something from him? There was no promise the wolfdog would hold even a silver of interest in helping anyone who was not his Conduit.

He stood silent, unwavering in his leveled position. It was clear by both the look in his eyes and the posture of his body that he was not going to waste breath on words. That would be left up to the autumn toned male who had interrupted his thinking time.