This is an interactive space where I will post prompts, conversation starters, and more for us all to use in creating stories and giving us all a chance to unwind and release creative juices in response to being confined at home (which stinks). Ever...
Hi guys, back again! This week I actually thought of kind of a fun one... we all have a favourite piece of fan art, whether that's something we drew or something we found online. This week, take a piece of art you love and turn it into a story!
As usual, here's my example:
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Credits to lidoshka on tumblr for the picture (I am writing on my phone so apologies for any typos/ my reduced ability to function)
They said Fëanor hated has half-siblings, and mostly this was true. More often than not he found himself absolutely disgusted by their lack of intelligence and usefulness, yet there were some things (very few, but still, they existed) in which Fëanor found himself the student and his half-siblings the teacher.
Findis had always been the most tolerable out of all of them, Fëanor thought, she and Finarfin, because they were the least alike to him. Golden-haired, quiet, and kind, those two had never managed to threaten him for the attention of their father. And Findis, she knew How to embroider better than anyone alive. Of course, Miriel could have outdone her on any day, but Miriel was gone.
The way Findis explained it —up and out, create the outline then find the colour and the life and the soul— made the complicated patterns and tiny stitches come together in a way they never had when Fëanor had been younger, hoping that perhaps if he managed to learn her craft his mother might finally wake up.
And Findis was always kind, praising even his first attempts, messes of thread that looked more like an explosion than any of the images he had been trying for. She did not get angry when he asked questions or ranted or came to embroider and instead ended up storming out of the house because of Fingolfin's wretched presence.
Yes, there were some moments that made Fëanor thankful that his half-siblings existed. Unfortunately, those moments had never been enough.
