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Demon Cam in the Space Silmarillion
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The grownups are all very busy, but the children are all bored. 

 

Bored or having nightmares. But Tasárinon was not on a ship and did not see the people dying and has only heard it thirdhand and can't exactly have nightmares about the look in his mother's eyes - well, he probably could, but he hasn't - so he's bored, and he is drawing on the floor. It is an absurdly intricate drawing. He has been embellishing it for three days. 

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"Good for them. Olwe's people?"

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"I have not met anybody by that name. Fëanáro's in charge?"

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"Doesn't ring a bell. Twenty-five lightyears, you know, and they're the side with the tech. Olwe's people live in Alqualonde, they're the ones with the lightspeed ships. You didn't take twenty-five years to get here so I am guessing he's helping at least on the supply end. Close friend of the President's."

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"Oh, no, I just made them duplicate lightspeed ships."

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"Have you considered just making the entire Enemy-held part of the continent - not be there? Or be on fire?"

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"I'm still finding my bearings. I can only create stuff, not delete it, though."

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"I am pretty sure that wouldn't prevent basically that solution. But okay. We're not turning our noses up at food and gas. And I'm not qualified to speak for anyone." They pull up in front of an exceptionally pretty building. "President is. So you should go in all winged and making food, I don't know how one generally gets a meeting but that'll definitely do it."

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"Cool. You want anything?"

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"Chocolate. Do you know chocolate? If it's not any trouble."

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"I know chocolate!" Here is a truffle assortment. "Enjoy." And in he goes.

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People stare. 

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"Hello! I'm here to talk to the President but I assume he's busy and I was not announced. In the meantime who wants chocolate?" He makes a bit of ultra dark, pops it into his mouth.

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Lots of people would like chocolate. After about thirty seconds someone comes out and everyone stands for her. "Meril," she says to Cam. "Chief of Staff. I have all the questions that I assume you've been fielding since you arrived, but so will the President so I'll save you the time. Can I answer any of yours?"

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"Pleased to meet you. How good's my translator?"

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"Impressive. You could try saying something complicated if you really want to test it. And I do speak Quenya, at least as it was spoken a century ago."

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"Oh good," says Cam with his actual voice. "It takes me so long to learn languages the long way. And do you want any chocolate or anything?"

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"If you can do truffles I have a couple nieces and nephews who will start worshipping you in place of the Valar on the spot - not that that'd take much of a push for anyone here."

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"I do not require worship but here you go." Bag of truffles.

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"Good because everyone with any aptitude lives on the high-tech planet. This is the folks who said 'swell, but no thanks.' We were making it out alright for a while."

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"I believe you. It's a nice city," he assures her.

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"The bits that aren't rubble. You're not going to hurt our feelings. Walking down the streets and counting the gold stars on the doors, that hurts my feelings. President's extricated, let's go meet him."

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"Gold stars?" Cam asks, following her.

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"That house lost someone. Silver means they have someone serving. Two gold, three silver, that's a typical house - we had big families, before the war..."

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Why couldn't everyone be conveniently fucking resurrectable why why why

"I'm sorry."

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"We were not expecting any better of the Valar."

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