there was little she expected when coming into telling the story ; one that might offer the faintest chance of answering lyra’s many questions, even if much of it would drift far from what her daughter — now a young woman — might have wished to hear. & there were many things marisa herself had never thought lyra’d still have to face. much that was kept unsaid still. still, lyra’s words managed to stir something within her — surprise, perhaps. & more than that — guilt, perhaps. regret. & realisation. it was, in a way, wasn’t it?
love had never been a frequent visitor in her life. but she loved lyra — oh, how fiercely she did. & her father. he was the only man she had ever truly loved, too, however scarcely she brought herself to admit it. ❝ you’ve grown rather sentimental, ❞ was the first thing marisa said. ❝ there are ghosts of all sorts, however. like some things simply can’t be brought back. ❞ & she knew lyra carried that truth within her as well. that pain. the sorrow & grief intertwined.
@evebeforethefall said : you said it was a ghost story. It isn't. It's a love story.
