#vanifinwefeanorian

[quentafeanorians]

“Hanyo? Can I sleeps with you?” Little Vanifinwë asked pushing his bedroom door open and standing there with a stuffed rabbit in one arm and a blanket in the other.

@vanifinwe-feanorian

Maitimo, who had not yet retired to his bed, looked up from his desk upon hearing his sister's request. He laid down his quill and stood up, offering Vani a warm smile.

"What excuse have you thought up this time, mmm?" He teased her fondly, picking her up in his arms.

[firstbloodinaman]

I love you grandfather, even if I am… upset with you.

@vanifinwe-feanorian

"I find no reason to fault you being upset with me, my rose, I will accept all anger I know I have earned."

[first-son-of-finwe]

Little Vanifinwë comes walking into Fëanaro’s office almost sadly with a hair brush in hand and several rubber bands and bows in her other hand. Leaving a little trail of them back before looking up at him with big eyes.

“Atya?” She says holding up her hands “Can I make you pretty? None of the brothers will let me and Nelyo isn’t here.”

@vanifinwe-feanorian

Fëanor’s heart melted a little at her sad face. He scooped Vani up, kissing her cheek at least three times before putting her back down.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. Then we can go and show off my pretty hair to your brothers, and show them what they’re missing out on.”

He sat down onto the floor in front of an armchair, giving her space to sit above him.

“Is this a good place to sit?”

[feanors-daughter]

Continued from here with @vanifinwe-feanorian

Vanifinwë pushed the door to the study open, finding the hearth crackling and popping with life. A redheaded figure sitting in the chair before it, with a half empty uncorked decanter on the end table. She paused for a moment before approaching, closing the door behind her as she did so.

The closer she approached the stronger the smell of alcohol was, finding Laurelin sitting in the chair. Vanifinwe furrowed her brows some at the sight of her sister,

"Lau? Is everything alright?" She asked her in a concerned voice, pausing partially in front of her.

"No," Laurelin grumbled, her eyes remaining fixed on the fire in the hearth before her, a second bottle of liquor gripped in one hand while the other supported her chin, elbow on the armrest of her chair.

"I lost," she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper. She had challenged their father to a duel and she had lost. Fëanor had taken back the sword she had stolen and forced her to spend the remainder of the day mucking stables and polishing armor. Her body ached, but her pride was more seriously wounded.

Oromë had trained her well, and she had put up a good fight, but it had only been a handful of months and Laurelin still had much to learn. He had warned her against challenging her father now, knowing she was not ready. But she was restless. Restless and angry and hurt by how her father had been treating her. He had grown cruel. He picked and prodded at her every insecurity, tearing her to shreds and then still denying her the right to train alongside her brothers. Was it truly just Morgoth's corruption and Fëanor’s subsequent descent into madness, or had he always thought so lowly of her?

With a growl, Laurelin stood and threw the bottle into the fire, yelling in frustration and not shying away when the flames erupted. Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. When she turned to face Vanifinwë, her swollen, bruised eye and split lip became visible in the firelight.

"But I am not stopping, not now. I'll find another sword, I'll keep training. I will challenge father again. And next time, I will not lose."

[first-son-of-finwe]

"Atya..." A visibly sleep deprived Vanifinwe says entering Feanaro's study holding a baby that is very clearly not hers. But the little one is more than content.

"Grandfather asked me 2 days ago to watch this elfling and he has not returned. Do you know where he is at? I have searched everywhere and I cannot find him."

@vanifinwe-feanorian

Feanaro looked up from his papers, frowning. His father wasn't usually forgetful, and it wasn't like him to simply hand over a responsibility and leave.

"He did? What did he say about it?" He went over to Vanifinwe and took the infant from her, studying the face and its features.

"...Who is this?"

@vanifinwe-feanorian

[first-son-of-finwe]

[ KISS ] (from a tiny Vani to her Atya)

“Thank you Atya for letting me do your hairs”

@vanifinwe-feanorian

Fëanáro smiled brightly despite his fatigue from a long day shaping metal, and reached over to give Vani a cuddle.

"Thank you, sweetheart. My hair does need doing, it's been in this braid for about a week. I'll just sit very still."

@vanifinwe-feanorian

[first-son-of-finwe]

😢

@vanifinwe-feanorian

Send 😢 to have your character walk in on mine crying by themselves

He’d lost count of how many times he had cried. In among the numbness, the exhaustion and the blind fury - now the only thing driving him on - the tears came frequently and hard. This time, all it had taken was a stray note he’d found written in his father’s hand.

He didn’t notice anyone in the room, and likely wouldn’t unless they made themselves known. The note crumpled in one hand, he cried bitterly into the other, the grief no less raw than it had been the day he learned of his father’s death.

@vanifinwe-feanorian

[feanors-daughter]

Continued from here with @vanifinwe-feanorian

“Are you excited for tonight’s festivities?” Vanifinwë asked Laurelin with a smile on her face. Stepping out from behind the screen in a red velvet gown that she was unable to finish buttoning by herself, the seamstress having been adamant about so many on the back of the dress.

“Do you think you could help me button the rest of these Lau?” She asked her curiously standing in front of the mirror to look at the gown and fix the slip that had ridden up some.

Laurelin stood in front of the mirror, making final adjustments to her hair and jewelry while she waited for Vanifinwë to finish putting on her dress. Laurelin's own dress was the color of bubbling champagne, shimmering and almost entirely shear besides appliques that covered the necessary portions of her body. Feasts and festivals such as these were her favorite, a night of beauty and finery and indulgences of every kind. She would drink and dance the night away with men and women that would fight for the chance to share even a single word with her. It was often too easy to slip into the shadows as one of King Finwë's many grandchildren, but at festivals, she could always make herself stand out.

"Of course I am excited," she smiled at her younger sister, gesturing for the elleth to come closer. "Are you? I know events like these can make some people nervous with the high number of people in attendance."

Laurelin swept Vani's hair to one side, fastening the buttons one by one before stepping back and fixing minor details of the dress. "There, you look beautiful. Now, what would you like me to do with your hair?"