Continued [ ⋆ @mrscoultxr ⋆ ]
“Lyra this really isn’t up for debate,” Mrs. Coulter replied gently, though there seemed to be an underlying warning in her tone. Her smile was kind, her posture relaxed and welcoming. And beside her, the golden monkey, ever the betrayer of her real feelings, crouched and tensing though his face remained carefully neutral. There was a brief moment where everything seemed to stop as a choice was being actively made.
“If you really must stay up, perhaps you can help me finish filling out these letters to our guests for the party,” came the small peace offering, delicately placed before Lyra. And she could take it, and most likely fall asleep while toiling away through the night, or she could reject it and go to bed.
Either way, Mrs. Coulter would win.
Pantalaimon drew back, betraying Lyra’s underlying doubts about the glamorous women she so admired; a subtle concern she refused to twist her features, meeting the woman’s warm smile with a mask of her own. “I en’t tired. I’m wide awake, actually. At Jordan College, I went to bed late. Sometimes, I wouldn’t sleep at all.” Oh, the many nights she would lie awake after a visit from her uncle, or a newly received postcard to add to her wall. “I was allowed to stay out on the roof as late as I liked.”
Lyra was not a compliant child. It had only been a matter of time before her stubborn, free-spirited tendencies outshone her desire to please her new guardian. Unwilling to follow instructions, the choice placed before her gave the child some sense of ownership and control. “Okay. I wanna help with the letters ‘n stuff.” Lyra, still largely under Mrs. Coulter’s entrancing spell, failed to see how little control she truly had.
