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smol feanor and larg feanor and bella
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They're in a bungalow outside a smallish town on a planet full of otherworldly science fantasy humans, commuting in occasionally to use the science ethernet in a public science ethernet café. They managed to sell some unreplicable gemstones for local currency for the few things that cost money (the money seems a way to charge for convenience and immediacy and not having to produce evidence of Federation citizenship or guest status and luxury, for a value of "luxury" that is in some ways above that of Valinor) but the café is free and doesn't want to know who they are.

When they're done for the day Bella scoops up Fëanáro and tries to let them out of the little booth where they've been doing their science ethernet browsing.

This is not the café hallway. This is a bar. Sitting at it is a Quendi man next to a teetering five foot tall stack of napkins.

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"Yeah, me either. But that doesn't mean it's not nice that it says we're not."

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"I guess the Valar don't think we're evil, just dangerous."

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Nod.

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"I'm surprised that they don't think future me is evil."

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"I have no idea what their criteria are. Have they ever burned anybody?"

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"The Enemy, apparently, and the Enemy's lieutenants."

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"Well those are pretty unambiguous, but I wonder why the Silmarils think they're unambiguous..."

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"We could ask my counterpart. He might know."

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"Maybe. Do you know where he is?"

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"Workshop, probably. 

I guess I could meet some more of his kids, too."

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"I'm curious about them."

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"I'm curious about so many things it's like the inside of my head won't shut up. Do you suppose they're all so sad."

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"...as Maitimo is? Probably not."

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"Good because he was very sad and I don't think I want to talk to anyone else that sad."

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"Well, I don't mind talking to sad people if you want me to meet them first and check."

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"Would you be able to tell? I could only tell because he was sad sort of the way I am sometimes sad only way more."

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"I could tell he was - troubled. I didn't get anything that specific off him."

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"It is the kind of sad where as far as you can think it is entirely right that things are the way they are but also they are barely bearable and never going to get better. I felt it a lot before you came."

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Oh dear. That calls for snuggles. "That sounds awful."

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"It's not awful. There are lots of worse feelings. But it's the worst feeling that I can't think my way out of because it's not about any worries or anxieties or anything and working hard doesn't make it better."

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"Yeah. How do you get out of it when you have it?"

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"The things that seem like they won't ever get better get better."

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"Just by themselves?"

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"The worst time I felt that way was right before you came."

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"Did I do something, or was that just a coincidence?"

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