#underthesummerrain

[first-son-of-finwe]

Hey you’ve got- -carefully tucks some hair behind his ear maybe linger a tiny bit to long- (underthesummerrain)

-looks a tad uncomfortable- “…What is it?”

@underthesummerrain

[khamvl]

She'd been talking to another craftsman in the square, debating upon some technique when her attention was pulled elsewhere. Honestly it had been someone yelling that pulled her attention to his direction. The faint glimmer of jewelry upon his hand, and as recognition of the piece dawn upon the elleth, grey eyes grew wide. Morënárya remembered it, although she'd rather forget it. (Underthesummerrain)

Khamûl enjoyed shopping in the markets, even if it was 'behavior unsuited to a king' as his advisor was always eager to remind him. Mostly, he enjoyed the bustle and the life, the gentle chaos that was carefully controlled in courts. And there was no better place to understand a people than among the commoners. He had talks that evening with the local leaders to entice them under his banner, and he intended to learn all that he could of the locals and their needs before then. An argument started up nearby and he turned, watching with bemused interest, until it seemed that the merchant would strike the young lady he accused of thievery. Holding a hand, bejeweled and painted, between the two to stop their scuffle, he didn't notice the attention he's attracted as he quietly reason with the man to let him pay for whatever he felt had been stolen. @underthesummerrain

[first-son-of-finwe]

-flops on Fea with a sigh-(underthesummerrain)

-pinches her cheek-

What’s happened with you?

@underthesummerrain

[first-son-of-finwe]

"I heard from a rather good source that you perhaps need a hug or a shoulder." Not that Feanor was ever known to cry, but Morya knew better then to point that out. It wasn't the time. Or the place.(underthesummerrain)

“Oh yes?” he shot back, not letting his voice waver. “And who is this source, who seems to know so much about my life and affairs?”

@underthesummerrai

[first-son-of-finwe]

"OI! FËANÁRO! I HEARD YOU WERE TALKING SHIT!" Not that she imagined he thought he'd be seeing her so soon, but she had a bone to pick with him now. (Underthesummerrain)

Fëanorgrimaced at the sound, bracing himself for another confrontation. Everyone in these Halls seemed to have some unresolved conflict to sort with him, and he once again found himself wondering how exactly he’d managed to piss off quite this many elves.

And Maiar.

And Valar.

He finally turned, brows rising in surprise to see his old acquaintance.

“Mora,” he greeted her, his face still sour. “Fancy seeing you here. I’m afraid you’ll have to remind me of the precise shit that I was supposedly talking…I seem to have done a lot of that over the course of my life.”

@underthesummerrain

[first-son-of-finwe]

♦♦♦♦♦♦(underthesummerrain)

“……I know, Mora. I already know this.”

@underthesummerrain

[first-son-of-finwe]

You’re acting as you did when we were children, Fea, and as much as I’d love to tell you what for and your flaws in your argument, someone has to be an adult here. Why don’t you come to my workshop, hmmmm? You can use my forge, and everyone can cool down hopefully. Perhaps we can catch up while were at it. Its been Ages, hasn’t it?(underthesummerrain)

“I never dragged my father through the mud so brazenly, nor did I get into fistfights with him,” he scowled. “I might not have agreed with certain things he did, but I always respected him. So you can get off your high horse and stop commenting on things you know little to nothing about.”

@underthesummerrain

[first-son-of-finwe]

-leaves a box with a well made circlet, and a note that says happy Valentine’s day-(underthesummerrain)

He smiled, tracing the circlet with his finger. It was indeed very well made, quite beautiful in fact…he lifted it up and settled it over his head, examining its fine silver in the mirror.

@underthesummerrain