#unrulycompassion

[unbeleveable-archive]

@unrulycompassion liked for a farah starter

Farah paused in her lecturing on the matter of telekinesis when she saw a raised hand. "Yes, Lyra?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

[cculters]

@unrulycompassion​ sent  ⛈   to find my muse after some kind of trauma

thundering, pounding. the sound of her name still echoing inside her skull — ❝ marisa ! marisa ! ❞ his voice ; deep, penetrating... brittle. she was still trying to hold onto it. the image of his strong arms holding onto those big battling wings, both male forms hanging above the endless dust—sucking void. she'd jumped and then—— darkness. within ? another voice ; much thinner, trembling and filled with thrill, but sweet.

the world seemed blurry when her eyes opened again. the dirt, the golden dust, the crimson painting her fingers... & a figure by her side, like a shadow. disbelief shook her whole body in a powerful convulsion as two sets of orbs entangled in a powerful look. ❝ l—lyra—— ? ❞ the weakened woman barely choked out. her dirty, all covered in soil & blood hands reached out for another's. she was real.

[castsrunes]

@unrulycompassion said: "where did you come from?"

❛ Oh, I’m so sorry, dear! Did I startle you? ❜

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

unrulycompassion asked : “gimme your knife.” @ evie // imagine. a child. just casually "hey gimmie your knife"

Random asks / @unrulycompassion -- always accepting

                    Evie didn’t wake up today thinking she would be demanded a knife from a child. She looked down, turning around, a swish of her cape. She looked down at the child, studying her for a moment. She was at a loss on what to say, not expecting to be told this in her life.

                    ❝ I don’t think that would be wise, ❞ she started, raising one of her brows. ❝ What would you use it for? ❞ the only blade she could take off was a throwing knife. What child would need such a thing? 

[cculters]

@unrulycompassion​ sent  📸 for marisa to show lyra one of her favourite photos of her.

˚ · .✧˚ · .✧˚ · . to have hurt, to have bled she would have never admit. it was just one of many times they had come across each other ; in the london royal arctic institute, in the parties, in little english towns or even abroad. this time in oxford, so close to home. in a library, late at night. the daggers at the ready to gore, knifes to cut... never failing to leave wounds bound to heal agonizingly slow. bound to leave scars. the final stab should she expect, a frown had covered her face as he pushed this... thing as her chest ; she pressed it to her heart before letting her gaze wander after him. the door closed shut and the thrud echoed in her ears along with his harsh words — ❝ i sincerely hope it will haunt your conscious. ❞

a photograph it was ; a three year old girl toying with a daisy flower, sat at the green grounds of the college, she presumed, to enjoy a sunny summer day. a photograph that must have been taken just recently. hadn't she been in oxford at this time of the year for no reason. every year... so far. to rage at the image was far easier. to feel the endless urge to rush after the man & curse him for torturing her this way for decisions that could no longer be undone. for showing her what their child looked like, previously having made sure she would not be allowed anywhere near jordan college grounds. to enrage was safe.

this picture has been her favourite. has been the only she possessed for years, until now. one she, in fact, kept locked away for years until the moment the general oblation board had been set in motion. a picture over which she spent countless of nights in a battle & in schemes. she couldn't help but take it out this one evening when she devoted her time to simply listen to lyra, ask occasional questions. to get to know her at last, even if her core fought against this foolish idea. this one time, she accepted the thundering inside her chest, the risks.

❝ your uncle & i had been quite close friends, ❞ she said, returning to the lounge couch to sit back by the girl. ❝ yesterday's news, really. it's been years ago, had he accidentally left this. i haven't really had a chance to return it to him. ❞ marisa handed the photograph & the golden monkey joined them ; he sat at the back of the couch to look over their shoulders at the image. ❝ i bet there haven't been many pictures taken. have you ever been shown any of the time you were so little ? ❞ mrs coulter asked curiously. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

[korzionarchive]

"I heard some people talking about how it's your nameday, and I dunno what a nameday is but I heard there was gifts and stuff, so if it's like a birthday, I got you a gift." Lyra handed her the trinket she made, a painted little wooden thing that was carved into a wing like shape. The color of the wing was nearly the same color as Meleys' wings, even if the detail was nowhere near as accurate. "I tried making it look like Meleys but I only had this big knife, so I made it into a dragon wing."

IT'S RHAENYS' NAMEDAY

Rhaenys smiled as she looked down at the gift, turning it over in her hand with care. "Thank you, Lyra," she replied. "This is very thoughtful of you." It brought back memories of receiving such simple gifts from her children when they were young-young and alive. She felt herself choke up a little, but refused to show it, not wanting Lyra to think she had upset her in any way. "i will keep it some place special."

[cculters]

˚ · .✧˚ · .✧˚ · . doubts, even now, were simply an everpresent cloud in young witch's mind. responsibilities something she didn't shy away from ; at least not when it came to talking with the minister of magic or head of the department of mysteries about conducting her projects. those official ones hardly of main focus, yet necessary were anything about to go wrong. perhaps it was reckless, or even warped, now that she had much different responsibility to take care of.

it were those moments, however, that made all the doubts go away. doubts about choice she made five years ago. having found the house surprisingly quiet, marisa headed upstairs — yet there, barely managed to enter the bedroom before almost ending up rammed by a little pixie for a girl (@unrulycompassion).

❝ ah ! ❞ marisa squicked & staggered. her arms immediately coming for the small child, now clung to her body ; a protective gesture were they to fall to the floor—— which they did. luckily the underfelt provided with a soft collapse. ❝ oh, hello there. . . i missed you too, darling. ❞ marisa said with a gentle smile painting her lips. fingers brushed off the messy hair off lyra's face, before leaning to kiss her forehead. ❝ & where's the nanny ? ❞ ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

[korzionarchive]

😊 [SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES] — not intimidating at all (I apologize for my child)

Well, she doesn't TRY to be intimidating with children so this is okay.