Task One- Part Two: Lyra’s Interview
Lyra had explored all the corners of the Justice Building open to her, which admittedly were few, and she’d found her favourite place. It was at the end of a corridor, by the window that stretched almost ceiling to floor, framed by two potted plants. It looked out over the district far enough that she could see the forest, and was the closest she could come to being outside.
“Miss Silverspring, we have a few questions for you,” a voice called from behind her.
She turned to see the extravagant Capitol person calmly walking down the corridor towards her. His colours were a rising sea of burgundy against a deep blue, the combination she’d come to associate with the Capitol. His clothes were also bright and jagged, clashing horribly with the swirl of his aura. By comparison, Lyra’s white dress seemed stark and empty, as if he’d absorbed all the colour from her.
“We can do it here, if you’d like,” he offered, to which Lyra simply nodded, turning so she no longer had her back to him, but still only faced him side on.
She waited whilst the cameras were set up, ignoring the quick whispered conversation about whether the backlighting from the window made her ghostly or shadowed or ethereal. Lyra had learned that the conversations others had about you were more for your sake than theirs, and so she took no interest in them.
“What constitutes the perfect date for you?” he began.
Lyra thought for a second, “It is difficult to narrow it down to just one- many dates are very important to me. The first things that come to mind are solstice and equinox, of which there are two each. They mark the natural calendar, the movement of seasons and stepping into the next stage of the life cycle, so their role is key. That said, there is something in the night of a blue moon,” she felt her gaze drift as she sank back into memories of the dances they would perform, “The sky is alive with all the hope of a second chance, and the earth seems richer beneath your feet. There isn’t really anything quite like it,” she refocused on the interviewer, “So perhaps my favourite date is that of a blue moon.”
The interviewer was careful to show little response, but Lyra still heard the snickers of the camera crew. She did not care, there was no other answer for her to give.
“What is your greatest accomplishment?”
This one was easy, “The night I finished my rites and took up my position.”
She would not tell them the details of her position- they were sacred and meant something. They were not to be thrown away in a soundbite for people who did not know what it meant to kneel before a mother tree and promise her your service. But she answered truthfully because that night had meant everything to Lyra. The moment she had been named Woodmaiden, the cycle’s continuation had been promised, the forest protected. And now, the Capitol had come to disrupt the flow in the name of violence, death and entertainment. They did not deserve to hear her title.
“Okay,” he continued awkwardly when it became clear that she was not going to elaborate, “What’s something you could teach me about?”
Lyra’s hand drifted up to the leaves above her head, almost unbidden, “How to respect the land we live in. How to exist in ways that are not harmful. How to find peace in the world around you. They are things many have forgotten.”
“That sounds nice,” the interviewer smiled, pretending not to hear the laughter from the camera crew behind him, “And what does love look like to you?”
This brought Lyra pause. It was not something she’d begun to think about yet. The time would come when she would look for someone, sure, but her focus had been on her responsibilities up to this point.
“I think… love to me is a deep connection. There are copses you can go to that look like they are covered in trees, but beneath the ground you would learn that they are in fact one organism, joined at the root. Love is like that, I think? To be two entities, able to stand apart and strong, but always bound by something deeper, something that does not need to be seen by others for them to know that it is there.”
“Surprise, surprise, she thinks love is a tree,” laughed a woman somewhat down the hall.
The interviewer hissed out a threat before turning back to face Lyra once more, “I’m sorry about them my dear, just one last question and then we’ll leave you to your day. What would you like to be remembered about you?”
Lyra sighed and answered, “The work my family do is not for celebration or recognition. It is simply right. We do not learn the names of those who come before us because we are not separate. Once we pass, our names are not spoken again- we return to the earth and become something more than an individual before the forest. We become part of the forest. In life, I would like to be known as someone who walked the path. In death, I wish only for a sense of peace and rest.”
She turned back to face the window as they packed up and went to find their next candidate. The questions had stirred up her longing to be back in the forest, and resting against the glass seemed the closest she could get.
