iiindiiiaa: toast to the utopia we envision 🖇while we cry endless fountains of sorrow inside our fragile shells, these temporary, mostly liquid bodies 💧 tears for the realities of this dystopia clarified through daily veil lifting 💔 we are small, but we are many, and in our unity there is endless power - the power of love so much greater than the parade of power we see sprouting from wells of poison; fear, insecurity & hate 🐶
this was written a while ago, and inspired the upcoming longer story
about the life and love of Fíli, Prince of Erebor and Ranka, Princess of
the Orocarni. A sneak preview chapter can be found here, and if you want to suggest a title you’re more than welcome to drop me an ask/message.
Art by @hvit-ravn
hissed, staring across the room. The King’s Ballroom was filled with Dwarrow in
fine dress, but your attention was caught by the Princes of Erebor.
it, dearling?” King Ranvé of the Orocarni asked, following your gaze to where
the Heirs of Thorin Oakenshield were greeting their Uncle’s guests.
told me he was blonde!” you groused. “I thought Fíli was the dark-haired one!”
Your Amad turned her shrewd gaze your way, as always making it seem as though
she could read your mind.
thought you favoured golden-haired dwarrow, daughter,” she rebuked mildly. You
scowled. It wasn’t that you disliked
the tawny golden locks of the oldest Prince, if you were completely honest, it
was simply that the colour reminded you far too much of Salvor’s sun-streaked
curls and the sight made your already nervous stomach roil.
“I can’t do
this, Amad,” you mumbled, and before your King could restrain you, you had
turned on your heel and fled the Ballroom.