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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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"Well, you were for a while but you've diverged since then."

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"I don't think he's bad. I understand why he did it now so I feel better about how it could have been me."

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"That's good."

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"Does it still bother you a lot?"

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"No, not really. I think you can do better and I'm less worried about the potential in context anyway; I knew I didn't have context, before, but it was still nerve-wracking."

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"I can do much better, I have wizardry. But anyway it's not like if I'm sad and mad enough I murder people, it's like if there are lots of people dying and the only way to save them is to steal something I might try to do it not expecting to end up having to kill anyone. That's not very scary."

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"Well, it does mean you might want to stop and think extra hard before stealing things to see if you can arrange to have more accurate expectations."

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"Yeah of course. I don't make the same mistake twice and I already made that one."

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"Good."

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"Anyway he didn't have any worlds' magic systems, he did lots of silly stuff because he wasn't strong enough. I'm going to be so powerful I don't need to do those things."

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"Cool."

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"I still think I'd be a pretty good god."

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"Wouldn't take much to improve on the ones we've run into."

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"Are you going to be Bella Godslayer someday?"

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"Maybe? Maybe not. It might not be my comparative advantage."

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"What do you think that'll be?"

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"Well, there seems to be some demand for a therapist above standard therapist pay grade. And there's wizardry research stuff, too."

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"You think you can make my son less sad?"

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"If he lets me, maybe I can."

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"Please? I want to be a good dad, not like mine, and I want all my kids to be happy."

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Hug. "I can't get very far if he doesn't want to let me, but I will try if he wants me to."

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"Thanks."

 

Macalaure's watching him contentedly. "I'm really happy you have Bella, Fëanáro."

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"You're welcome."

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"I wanna learn Loki's magic after you've invented a way to make it less boring. Singing won't help. What do you do besides singing?"

 

"I compose things," he says, "my magic works fast and is not very boring. And I think you are underestimating my singing."

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"It's really good singing," Bella says in a loud whisper.

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