So, I was tagged by @cirruscorvid and @softie-draws to share my current WIP, except I am only writing fanfiction (well, unfortunately) — and what I’m writing is an absolute bloodsucker of a fanfic (my FeaNolvo fic Unreal Unearth). So I thought I might share a snippet (unpolished as it is). CW: Incest and fictional religious teachings heavily inspired by Christianity (oh boy, those things in one sentence).
“Findis, I hope I have not missed your telling of what I too wished to know,” the mellifluous voice flowed forth, and Nolofinwë’s gaze absorbed the whole of his brother – furtively, swiftly, at once. “You spoke of what Estë’s guidance had revealed to you…” He brushed Nolofinwë’s elbow, reaching for a platter – dimples rippled across his cheeks; dark waves billowed across his shoulders; the wake of perfume followed his movement.
“It was the art of healing that I first sought to understand: the mending of bodily wounds through herbs and song – yet the healing of the soul above all,” like a flute, the voice of Findis took up the melody. Curufinwë inclined his head, eyes on her, only her, never... How agonizing, and familiar, and right.
“I wished to learn how the mind might be quieted, the heart disciplined, and the spirit brought into accord with that which is greater than itself.” Their sister’s tale pranced on, while spoons, saucers, and cups chimed like little bells upon its bridle. Nolofinwë heard but the pulse of fervor, held beneath his perfect composure. “And does Fëanáro feel the familiar brush of my mind, the tantalizing heat of my flesh?” They sat so close it could have been an accident that he then touched Aracáno’s knee – and for a few heartbeats, it still could have been. “I feel you by my side.”
“This is a path that teaches the joy of service to others,” Findis spoke, and Fëanáro’s fingers drifted to the inner side of Nolofinwë’s leg, weightless and gentle. Nolofinwë shivered, torn between outrage and exhilaration. Their sister confessed:
“Estë’s discipleship instilled in me patience, humility, obedience, and restraint.” A game it was, a dance. A hand – rested upon the inner side of his thigh and advanced higher, inexorably, as the flute sang: “It calls one to temper one’s passions, humble one’s pride, and preserve the purity of one’s being.” Aracáno seized those wicked fingers as they grazed over his arousal. Findis said: “In this, I have found true harmony.”
“You have mastered yourself with a grace few attain,” Fëanáro had always met the pious inclinations of their sister with quiet, distant respect, recognizing in her a sincerity he would not credit Nolofinwë with. “I know the worth of such discipline all the better for having so often lacked it. Time and again, my passions prove stronger than my will.” And yet it was Nolofinwë who held him captive in the cruel entanglement of their fingers.
“You are too severe with yourself, my dear son,” Finwë’s tenderness caressed the faint sorrow upon Fëanáro’s countenance, Nolofinwë’s nails bit deeper into his palm.
Aaand zero pressure tags: @irnina, @stormenos, @wormbishounen, @glorfindelcorner, @ffigwit, @gauntletgirlie (I saw that you’ve just posted a new fic — which is now in my tbr — but maybe you still want to share a snippet!), @abomination-unto-nuggan (I’d absolutely love it if you shared a snippet from your Polish Uprising AU!) @xximmortalkissxx, @thorinsmajesticbraids, @tevidosmousetoy, @thescrapwitch and @deckofmanymore
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