#v;;au

[silvertonguc]

Starter for: @jcyfulmess​

     The Royal Arctic Institute buzzed with lively chatter as smartly-dressed men and women milled around, holding glasses of tokay and dainty snacks on cocktail sticks. A small child with brunette hair, that someone had clearly attempted to tame, weaved between them, ignoring the increasingly frustrated calls of the scholar she had talked into taking her there as an early birthday gift, only granted due to the Master being away and the trip being deemed safe enough. The little girl felt as though all of her Christmases had come early. The building was so grand that she craned her neck, wide eyed, to drink up the entirety of her surroundings, whilst darting around the legs of the adults who mingled in small groups. The scholar’s voice was distant now and it felt like a game to the child and her tiny ermine daemon to hide themselves from him. Soon enough, she bumped into an elderly man, who peered down at her through squinting eyes. “Oops,” she giggled in amusement.

     “Who might you be? Where are your parents?” the old man asked.

     “Oh...” Lyra twisted her head this way and that, the beautiful dress of one of the only women she had seen at the event catching her eye. “My mama’s jus’ over there,” she replied, the most innocent smile lifting her sweet expression, “Better go back before she sees I is gone an’ sends out a huge search party! She did that once. She’s rich, y’know...” And it seemed, as Lyra whizzed off in the glamorous stranger’s direction, that she did, indeed, have money, for her outfit was beautiful and her blonde hair flawless. Sparing a quick backwards glance at the man, catching his baffled expression, the child kept a close distance to the woman, hiding her giggles behind a hand. “Pan, look! So pretty!” she gasped, her small fingers reaching and running down the expensive-looking material. Lyra rarely ever left Jordan college and despite many attempts to teach her some manners, the girl did not yet understand it would be rude to touch a stranger’s clothes.

[silvertonguc]

[ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand 

[ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand

    Lyra had listened to the explanations, the stories, and still, she avoided connecting with her mother. She was feeling too deeply, allowing fears to sink in.

    For a girl who had always thrown herself into danger without a second thought, there were few people who could scare her. Mrs. Coulter was one. As a twelve-year-old girl, she had been afraid of her mother’s intentions. Afraid of capture and of her horrible intercision machine. Now, six years later, her fears ran deeper; complex and suffocating. If she reached out, would she only lose her again? Would accepting her back into her life mean she was betraying all the people she had hurt? Could she forgive herself for wanting to? There was already so much she couldn’t forgive, what was one more?

    Through her confliction; a fierce battle she had disguised for days through a mask of indifference and countless books and studies, came the same longing she never stopped feeling. She remembered Iorek’s encouragement and repeated it silently. It had always helped in those moments where she faltered, the rare times where bubbling emotions forced her to look before leaping. When I am frightened, I shall master my fear.

    They walked now, side by side. Alone. Silent, except for the heavy breeze sweeping through the trees.

    Without looking, not even an inch, Lyra felt for her mother’s hand and grasped it in her own. It was all she would allow. All she could bear so soon, and she held on tightly.

[silvertonguc]

「 ❂ 」 Mrs. Coulter ( @jcyfulmess​ ) said:

“I never thought we would be able to have that conversation Lyra." 

    It had taken a long time for Lyra and Mrs. Coulter to reach a point where not every conversation twisted into a fight. Where they had been able to find common ground between them and form some sort of fragile bond, built on a more stable foundation that wasn’t filled with lies and distrust. Still, nothing about their relationship came easy, but Lyra was beginning to understand that her mother might have changed for the better, that she wasn’t exclusively evil.

     “I didn’t either ... and maybe it’s a bad idea. I dunno, I just know I can’t stay at Jordan College anymore.” 

     Pan was staring at her, silently, probably judging her. Lyra didn’t care. The two of them still had their problems. He had never liked Mrs. Coulter, not even over those first few weeks when they had first met her. Lyra’s daemon was less than pleased she had brought up the topic of her staying with Mrs. Coulter ... moving in, in a way, though those words sounded far scarier. To him, it didn’t matter what she called it, it was a huge betrayal. 

     “It en’t like I’d be moving in or nothin’. Not really. Just staying, for a while. Temporary. Just like how you staying here in Oxford is temporary ... isn’t it?” she asked, still unsure whether one day the blonde would disappear. Even as she gradually began to trust that Mrs. Coulter wasn’t about to begin another crazy ‘experiment’, she couldn’t yet trust she would stay. 

     “If it’s a bad idea, just say so and I’ll think of somethin’ else.”

[silvertonguc]

«  This would look good on you. »

     Lyra had to resist the urge to scrunch her nose up distastefully at the elaborate, delicate and entirely not her dress that Mrs. Coulter held up. “I dunno, it looks kinda fancy and the colour is strange…” she began, holding back her true feelings on the outfit her mother was suggesting for her. She was trying; really, truly trying to understand and accept the unknowable woman who had flashed in and out of her life for so many years. Much time had passed since their first, explosive reunion and since then each had become a little less confrontational, a little more civil until they could be in one another’s company and somewhat enjoy it. Mrs. Coulter had stayed, which was one reality Lyra couldn’t understand as, looking back, she knew she had been aggressive and difficult to talk to for the longest time; consistently picking fights and trying to get under her mother’s skin. It was well deserved, Lyra thought stubbornly, even now, but over time her initial fury and hurt had subsided to levels that she could control and were joined by an increased curiosity and the reluctant acceptance that she cared about the woman. They were getting somewhere; bonding, to some degree, and Lyra found she wanted to put the effort in and try. 

     “Maybe it’ll look better on. D’you want me to try it, see how it looks?” she asked, managing a small smile. Even Pan, who remained unimpressed with the majority of Lyra’s actions and her increasing closeness to her mother, sat by her side, passive. He had been unsure about their trip to Geneva and meeting Mrs. Coulter’s mother and brother, but there was little choice but for him to begrudgingly join them. Although the two disliked each other, he had not yet left Lyra for longer than a day. 

     Lyra took hold of the dress without waiting for an answer from Mrs. Coulter and disappeared into the changing room, Pan sitting just outside as she tugged the dress on. Feeling a strange sense of deja vu, the young woman stepped out, the scenario all too similar to years earlier, where the blonde had taken her shopping whilst she lived with her in London. “So, what d'you think? Does it look good on me?”

[silvertonguc]

“Did you do that on purpose?”

Physical Contact Starters

     Lyra’s vision dropped to the puddle she had just hurtled herself into and then back up at her mother, whose intense gaze made her freeze where she stood for a moment. “Uh, no. Not exactly,” she started, her brain whirring, “I mean, yes, but I didn’t mean for the water to splash up at you so - no, I didn’t do it on purpose.” The girl shrugged and folded her arms. She kicked at the puddle of water, sending a spray in the opposite direction of the two. “We have to be so careful all the time, I just wanted to have a bit of fun. I didn’t mean nothin’…not like that time I tripped you up an’ you fell right into the mud.” The child sniggered at the memory, her eyes glinting in amusement. For weeks, she had been plagued by nightmares and panic attacks. Now, she was beginning to find ways to cope with the trauma of what had happened that day, and she wasn’t about to let anything ruin her mood. “We gotta blend in, right? Well me playin’ like kids do is me doin’ just that!”

[silvertonguc]

"Hey, little one." (Omg this could be when Marisa first meets Lyra to take her in in our au)

Send “Hey, Little One” For A Starter Where My Muse Is A Child, Wandering Lost And Alone

     “Hello.” Lyra’s voice was small, unusually timid, but her dark eyes were wide with a curiosity stronger than most four-year-olds’. She had never seen a woman quite like the one stood before her; with a pretty, sparkling dress and a smile that made it impossible for the little girl not to smile back. “Who’re you?” she asked, her head tilting and causing a tangled lock of hair to fall across one of her eyes. No matter how many times Mrs. Lonsdale brushed her hair, it always ended up in the same state minutes later. “You a new nanny…or gov’ness?” Lyra’s initial uneasiness had faded, and she spoke with more confidence and energy than before. “You look different t’everyone here,” she observed, bluntly. 

[silvertonguc]

“ I’m going to leave for a while Lyra,” Mrs Coulter looked at her trying to read her reaction then continued, “For Geneva. It shouldn’t take long. A week maybe less.” She tilted her head, “There’s someone who needs to know I’m still around. Actually two people. Maman & my brother. I’m not saying you should come with me, but she definitely wants to meet you. Honestly, i definitely understand if you stay here.“

     “You’re leaving?” Lyra whirled around to face her mother the second she heard the unwelcome announcement fall from her lips. Things between them had been better over recent weeks, to the point where not every encounter ended in a horrible argument. Lyra had stopped expecting Mrs. Coulter to leave, had grown used to having her around where Pan often was not. Though, if her own daemon could leave her so easily without care, she could hardly expect the mother who had abandoned her to stay.

      She was ready to mutter some words about it being ‘fine’, and then leave before Mrs. Coulter could leave her, but it seemed the woman hadn’t finished speaking. “Oh,” she breathed, the rush of adrenaline fading away to leave her exhausted, “You want me to come with you?” she asked, unsure. Lyra glanced down at Pan, who sat, discontented, as far away as publicly acceptable. “I don’t know…” she muttered, thoughtfully. Curiosity sparked from somewhere within her, “I didn’t even know you had family, I sorta assumed it was just you.” She shook her head, it was silly really. The assumptions she made as a child stuck so firmly even now, at eighteen-years-old, and yet she felt so differently about most things. 

     Again, she looked at Pan. No longer could she so easily read his thoughts or where he stood on her decisions, but he would tell her later if he disagreed, and she expected that he wouldn’t be overly keen to travel with her. Too bad. It was her choice to make, not his. Although she wouldn’t be so confident as to believe he would join her in Geneva, she would have to hope. He had not yet left her for longer than a day. “I wanna come with you…I want to meet them. When do we leave?”