Chapter Text
Marisa heard a small noise, not from her daemon, nor Lyra’s (or the girl). It was coming from outside, it seemed Lyra hadn’t heard it. Thoughts raced, some overcrowding then others. Was this a threat? Was Lyra in danger? Should she drug her, to keep herself from the possible danger?
‘No.’ Her daemon thought to her and she prevented from rolling her eyes. Her daemon, who never seemed to like the girl (Pan had only been tolerable when Marisa was feeling very affectionately towards Lyra, more so in London), somehow was more opposed to taking her side than the other half of his soul? She was slightly jealous, it meant he had more of a connection to her child then she did. ‘Marisa, stop.’ He begged her slightly, he hatred how she was ‘jealous’ and just making excuses to hate herself more because she hated how things were going and slipping out of her control.
She allowed her mind to go blank, despite everything, she identified the noise and even began to smile. Lyra looked up at her with a scared expression. Marisa hummed as she noticed how scared she was of her. “I’ll be back in a moment darling.”
Lyra was very confused, she hadn’t heard a thing. That monkey stayed on the bed, he had let go of Pan when he and his human spoke before, the minute she left he returned to Pan. He, with gentle strokes on Pan’s back, calmed the daemon down from any remaining fear. It wasn’t fair, he got all the care, Lyra got a woman who kept distancing herself and wouldn’t give any real comfort due to how ‘out of control’ Marisa felt and couldn’t let her guard down or be the person Lyra needed her to be at that moment in time. Though it should be going forward, time’s arrow seemed to be standing still, leaving both mother and daughter alone with their thoughts.
When Marisa returned she had a small basket with her, Lyra’s eyes darted to that basket and Marisa chuckled. She thought about the situation and didn’t want to allow her feelings and heart to be broken like it was in the station. Why couldn’t Lyra just be who she wanted her to be? But she didn’t want to abandon her child after all her daemon didn’t with Pan and she wanted to be better than a part of herself she seemed to hate.
“It was a pleasant surprise,” the girl Ama had brought back more supplies. A jar of honey, some earthy vegetables left loose in the basket (a few small potatoes, 2 fairly large multi coloured carrots, a leek head, a small onion and a few small parsnips), a twine held wild flower bunch some dried some fresh, with that same twine it also held herbs - half dried not like the flowers where it was some dried some not- more the process of drying, a fairly large mimosa bark canteen of fresh water, 2 small Gravadlax cured fillets and a small pouch of hazelnuts. She continued, “Now darling, are you hungry?”
Lyra didn’t say anything and looked at the covers, slightly admiring the pattern. She couldn’t ignore the strong stare on her, her eyes wondered upwards meeting that cold, sadly emotionless stare, with an equally cold gaze. Marisa looked back before sighing and walking around to the other side of the fireplace, she met her daughters cold gaze from the gap, set the basket down and hands went over to the side of firewood in the corner. Fingers stroking one of the logs as if it could seek out any secrets by the inaccuracies of not having even crevices before throwing it on the hungry fire and watching embers eat away at it. Orange embers licking away at the wood, getting ready to demolish it’s next victim.
“Darling?” A cold soothing voice spoke as it’s owner moving around over to the bed. Not sitting down, eyes tiptoeing over to her daemon. She felt so disconnected seeing him curled around a still, almost happy Pan. “I’m sorry, I know our last meeting properly was cut short. I did that out of necessity darling. I know you won’t believe me, but I haven’t brought you here to keep you jailed. I’ve done it to keep you safe. There are..” She paused taking in a shaky breath as the thought of them getting their hands on Lyra entered her mind as quickly as she forced it out, “Forces, bad forces, you couldn’t begin to understand trying to hurt you and Lyra I would give my life to stop them before they cause you harm.” The woman turned around, looking at a few shelves and the added ‘ordainments’.
Lyra said nothing, thinking what her mother said. She had no way of knowing if her mother was lying or not. And she couldn’t tell from her mother’s eyes, they were emotionless yet something else filled them and as cold as death.
‘They were full of pain, like Tullio’s. Like other spectres victims.’ Pan offered and at that Lyra decided to not try and understand why her mother did anything she did or understand her mother in the slightest. She couldn’t, and if she ever did she wouldn’t know what to do with her.
The woman smiled, Lyra had not said a thing- did she understand? Or was this another trick? Needless to say, she clicked her tongue as a inspiration wave washed over her as her eyes spotted a book. A fairytale book. Taking it off the shelf, she recognised the cover. It was one fairytale, not multiple. Marisa remembered when her maid would used to read it to her when she was young, her mother ‘hadn’t the time’ it was a pleasant memory before that maid was fired for smoking opium in their spare time.
She smiled at the idea she had. Turning around to Lyra, meeting her soft gaze. She walked slowly over to the side of the bed Lyra wasn’t in. Pulling back the covers, getting cosy next to her child who was visibly confused. She slid an arm over Lyra while the other opened the book.
“What are you doing Mrs- Mother?” Marisa couldn’t help but have her heart flutter at that word.
“So you can speak? Just ignoring me earlier? Hmm?” She felt a glare. “Are you hungry? It’s no trouble. There’s some left over bread, although no cheese, but I can give you a slice with honey. Not exactly the healthy thing I can offer you.” She giggled slightly.
“No.” She was hungry, Marisa could tell, but Lyra didn’t want her mother to be right about anything.
‘So are we starving to death then?’ Pan replied, in utter relaxation.
‘Get cosy over there will you? If she really loves us, she won’t let that happen.’
“Hmm,” She turned a few pages, light wind from the light force fluttered into Lyra’s face like a butterfly or a grey moth like the one Pan was in the retiring room.
“Mother..”
“Shh, relax.” The arm around her rubbed small circles into her shoulder. And then it was just that if Lyra wanted to play her mother’s game, she would have to actually do it, not try and gain information about why or even what her mother was doing because even the authority himself would never seem to know. So she finally began to play, let her mother’s words sink in, she did just that. She let herself relax and muscles that had been contracting, let go. She moved her head from of the pillow and onto her mother’s chest, hearing her heartbeat. It was a confirmation that her mother was alive and not a cruel hallucination. Her mother was always dressed to very high standards, the gold leaf? To hide the damages. But to see her so domestically for Lyra. It almost didn’t feel real. It was almost the Marisa Lyra always wanted deep down but couldn’t get. She almost didn’t think it was real.
Marisa smiled. Her daughter was finally doing what she wanted. She lent forward to place a kiss on her head before the arm that was around her came up to lazily stroke and play with Lyra’s hair. Lyra hummed happily in response. Marisa in a soft, as sweetened as spun sugar voice began to read. It was for a very young child but neither said anything. Pan changed into a small ginger kitten to try and match the older daemon curled around him.
The woman read of kingdoms, dragons, a cruel woman kidnaping a young brilliant child- forcing them to live in either a tower or a hovel (It didn’t exactly specify) quests with gold at the end. Lyra couldn’t help but feel like that child and Marisa seemed to pick up that judgment as she read it, making herself read slightly faster. They finished the book in no time, when Marisa was young it would be time for bed but it would seem Lyra never would want to sleep again for fear of being judged. Marisa went back to the part where the woman made her captive hazelnut soup.
“You already read this,” Lyra blurred out, she couldn’t help but say.
“Hmm, I think Ama gave us some hazelnuts, do you want to try and make this? We have no cream but it will have to do.”
Lyra groaned before realising something. “Ama? It’s that girl isn’t it?” She spoke with a clear bitterness to her tone as if she was sucking on a lemon.
Marisa stopped playing with Lyra’s hair and altered to stroking her head instead. “Lyra, not this again please.” It was almost as painful as a headache last time. “We’re just going to go in circles.”
“En’t that why you don’t like me as much? You like her because you don’t go in circles.” Marisa sighed.
“No, I don’t like her in any way other than respect for her for helping you, me, us. I can reassure your jealous feelings that I don’t feel anything maternal towards the girl.”
“I’m not jealous.” She huffed.
“If you plan on Lying make it believable.” She made a mental note then and there to not mention the girl to not strike this nerve from Lyra.
“I en’t lying. It just en’t fair how you’re being… You’re supposed to be my mother.. He was better with Pan than you were and it wasn’t…” Right. It wasn’t right given Pan and the monkey’s violent history.
Marisa’s eyes began to water. True tears. She gently picked Lyra’s head up off of her chest, as she sat up, placing it in front of her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused harm, look at me, Lyra look. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She went on as she then placed kisses to Lyra’s forehead.
Lyra froze. She hadn’t. Meant. To. She didn’t mean to as tears not from her eyes ran down her cheeks. She didn’t like this, before when in eyeline Marisa’s cold gaze was generally full of pain and it seemed like it was before, just harder to see without the tears. It hurt. To see her mother once so confident before to.. to this. She truly hated seeing Marisa like this. She couldn’t take it anymore and wrapped her arms around her like she did when they first met in Jordan college.
Marisa reacted instantly, arms came up to hold her daughter, rubbing small circles into the pyjamas she dressed Lyra in. Lyra began to apologise but her mother shushed her and promised it wasn’t her fault. After all it was Marisa just ensuring Lyra cared. And to stop them going around in circles. And maybe because she liked seeing Lyra sad- so it was she who finally got to comfort her after all this time apart. And Marisa did find emotional manipulation to have worked before on Lyra. It did work. She would tell herself she did the things she needed to do with Lyra out of necessity. After all this could've been a disguise from Lyra. It might've been a whole trick and Marisa didn't want to be vulnerable to it again like she was in the station. So she easily pretended to be that level of vulnerable. So if it all were a trick, Marisa would be ready and catch 'the escape artist' off guard.
Marisa began to hum and sing soft syllables of lullabies despite not knowing any of the words. But it seemed to work, calming them all down (Well the humans, neither daemon seemed to care they were relaxed from the start). Marisa eventually pulled Lyra’s arm off of her to cradle her daughter in her arms. She didn’t remember a time she had been this happy. All was fine until she heard a soft growl of a stomach.
“So you are hungry.. Come we can make that soup together hmm?” Marisa chuckled as she heard Lyra’s ‘excited’ groan and helped her up. Lyra stood next to the fire as she watched Marisa to fix the covers, a true domestic act she never thought she would witness back when she first lived with her.
Marisa led her over to the other side of the fireplace, daemons following (the monkey opted to sit near Pan and Lyra than his own human, though she’d never admit it this action hurt her feelings deeply). At the other side Lyra could see their food rations, some metals pots and pans, 3 to be precise, firewood and small buckets of water (Different from the canteen as it wasn’t exactly drinking water unless Marisa would boil it) “Do you know what goes into a soup, Lyra? Would you be able to feed yourself?”
“Do you know what goes into a soup?” She couldn’t help but ask but then didn’t want to come off as rude and quickly apologised in fear of punishment. But Marisa smiled and laughed a hand coming up to stroke Lyra’s hair once again.
“Believe it or not, when one has been in the North in the past, there isn’t often kitchen staff and one has to adapt. So yes, I do know how to cook though it probably isn’t as nice as a restaurant I used to take you back in London.” Lyra wondered if this was a dig at her choosing to run away.
“Well it’s hazelnut, like you said, so probably that?” Lyra spoke answering her mother’s question. “Where are they?” Her mother than handed her that small pouch.
“what else?”
“Umm… herbs?” She looked over at the basket.
“That’s cheating.” Marisa moved in front of the food rations, “Use your brain.”
That’s not fair, Lyra wanted to say but didn’t.
‘Potatoes, remember that soup the chefs made at Jordan’s college in the fall?’ Pan offered in a pine martin form.
“Potatoes?”
“That’s right, clever girl.” Lyra beamed at the praise. “For what? What is the significance of doing so?”
“To make it taste good?”
“And? Think about what’s in them.”
“I thought potatoes are in them.” Lyra groaned, this wasn’t as fun as reading about it.
“Starch. And starch is a what?”
‘Starch.’ Pan offed and Lyra smiled. ‘Maybe it’s to do with the consistency.’
“Is it to do with the consistency?” Lyra asked.
“Thick or thin?”
“Thick.”
Marisa smiled. "But starch is a what exactly?”
“A thickener?” Lyra wasn’t sure if that was even a word. But Marisa hummed and Lyra had reason to believe that answer worked though she still wasn't sure if it was a word. Just like how she wasn’t sure how close to sit next to the fire before and Marisa then pulled her back slightly.
“What else?”
“Water?”
“And?”
“Honey?” Lyra remembered her mother’s offer before.
“let’s look at these together, shall we?” Lyra was so happy those questions were over as Marisa pulled the basket over. She left the other rations from before to a side, they didn’t seem as necessary.
“Here are the vegetables-“
“Do we have to add them?”
“Yes, I promise they’ll make the soup taste nice. Which one’s seem suitable?”
“All?” She guessed.
“Yes, good girl.” She watched as Lyra’s eyes beamed up with each compliment and she stopped her questions, for they kind of got all of the ingredients.
“Now I’ll do the vegetables, don’t want you hurting yourself now do we? If you place that pan,” Instructing her daughter was a pleasant feeling and it meant Lyra had no chance of injury, the pan she instructed that handle wouldn’t heat up under the temperatures of the fire they were working with, “On the fire grid,” That hung with two layers and was an ugly make, wasn’t even. “And place the hazelnuts on it, top, keep an eye as they ‘roast’ for a nice crisp taste.” She watched as Lyra did as she was told, a relief washed over her.
She kept an eye making sure Lyra wasn’t hurting herself. She, with a dull knife, began to chop the vegetables, finely for they didn’t exactly have any Anbaric devices to smooth out the soup. With the scraps she placed into a pot, with water from the one of the buckets and then placed the pot onto the second layer.
She explained to Lyra, how the scraps can almost be made into a vegetable stock for the soup and it would have better flavour. Lyra seemed to disagree as she looked at the ends of parsnips, carrots, leeks and onion peel softly simmering away. She went back to chopping away finely apart from the potatoes which she sliced into thin slices not fine chunks.
Lyra smelt a pleasant smell from the hazelnuts and took them off the heat.
“Are they ready?”
“Yes.”
“Come and pick herbs off their stems here.” Eyes darted up as Lyra left the pan and moved next to the other side of Marisa, who made room, daemon’s following, Marisa’s eyes rolling there.
‘Stay.’ She said quietly to him.
‘Marisa I’m with Panta- I’m with Pan.’ He might’ve implied how the young daemon might not be there forever but Marisa ignored that.
A couple of minutes, more than five less than ten, Marisa brought the ‘vegetable stock’ off the heat and regarded the straps- placing them in a jar, she could use them later for more ‘vegetable stock’ she had only made enough for this setting. In that pot, she then added the finely chopped vegetables and the potatoes, and the hazelnuts. Then she turned to lyra, tucking a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “Is the herbs ready?”
Lyra showed the ‘cup’- she made with her hands- of herbs which Marisa took gently from her daughter. Adding it to the soup as well as a spoonful of honey and a pinch of sea salt she had made herself when she collected sea water a few weeks ago.
She then left the soup on it’s own, so the vegetables can soften. Tiding up softly and finding some of the natural clay bowls that were left behind.
Lyra felt quite useless, as she sat and watched her mother do everything. “Did I do alright then? With the soup I mean?”
“Yes, dear. Hopefully some of that will be useful for you some day.”
“Mother?”
“Yes darling?” She stopped what she was doing to look at her daughter.
“Where would one..um.” She stopped, quite embarrassed. But despite everything there was still a nervousness to how she spoke.
“Darling, it’s okay, ask away.”
“Where is the bathroom exactly?”
Marisa paused. “I know it doesn’t look hygienic but I can assure you, it’s just the standard of this village.” Hygiene had been a big concern but Ama assured here it was alright. “I’ll show you, It’s a part of the chapel but it’s outside, here let me help you, you still seem sleepy.” That's because Lyra was tired but naturally, not from the drug.
Marisa led her outside, Pan left the monkey’s side for the first time in hours as a little sparrow on Lyra’s shoulder, the monkey finally standing next to Marisa which made her feel happy in her own strange way. She showed Lyra how to work the door and the lock, she left to go check on the soup and found she didn’t need to return as Lyra, clumsily, walked back in. Marisa smiled, Lyra chose to come back.
“A few more minutes, darling. Can I offer you a drink? Here’s the drinkable water.” She handed her the canteen, which Lyra was grateful for. She expected it to be salty after all they were close to the sea but it wasn’t. Once she was done she placed the string around her wrist.
“Here while we wait,” Marisa darted in the other room. Lyra looked to see the two bowels and 2 clumsily wooden carved spoons that Lyra wondered If her mother had done so. Looking at the bowls, she saw the difference and had to assume if her mother made the spoons, she didn’t the bowls, for they were smooth and barely had any inaccuracies.
Marisa returned with a small wooden box, “What’s that?” Lyra couldn’t help but ask.
Marisa smiled, placing it on the window sill, with clouded up and dusted old glass. She opened it and immediately a pleasant almost mystical, ‘music’ played though it consisted a lot of high dings. In Will’s world the noise could almost be linked to a celesta. “Dance with me.”
Lyra blushed, “No, that’s- no.” ‘embarrassing’ was the word she couldn’t say.
“No?” Marisa strode over to her, grabbing her palms, placing them in her own.
“No..” She smiled then. And allowed Marisa to move her. Each higher note, they may move to the left and each lower note they may have moved to the right, Marisa sometimes doing her own ideas as there were only real high and then low notes. The music box went on, Lyra could see in it’s lid on the inside gently carved stars and a night sky. They were complex enough to see some constellations, Lyra being one of them amongst others and then just a night sky but no moon, sun or planets shone.
Some of Marisa’s own ideas consisted of lifting her daughter in the air as if she were a baby, she smiled widely, another helping Lyra spin as if it were a casual dance. The music box came to a end, fading away, Lyra smiling, Marisa smiling, Pan smiling in a golden puppy form wagging his tail the only one that didn’t smile was the monkey who insisted on petting Pan.
“Here, let’s get some food in you, would you like any bread?”
“No it’s alright.”
Marisa smiled softly, though was slightly disappointed, she was worried the soup on it’s own wouldn’t be enough. She served two bowls and then instructed Lyra to sit down directly in front of the fire on the wall under were the music box was. Lyra looked to see the monkey, who had left Pan a while ago as soon as the music faded and only returned as Marisa had served both bowls, who had placed a blue jumper that belonged to Marisa on the ground where Lyra was instructed to sit. She liked the fussing over her, not Ama, it wasn’t like Lyra didn’t mind sitting on the floor but Marisa didn’t want Lyra cold at all by sitting on a cold stone floor.
Once she was sat, Marisa joined her down beside her and then handed her a bowl and spoon which was surprisingly not full of splinters. Lyra carefully blew on the soup and then took the first spoonful, Marisa watched not because she was wondering if it were any good (she got used to the low standards of food a while ago) but because she was happy to see her daughter eat.
Lyra was surprised. It was good. She thought back to what her mother said hours ago, it would have been better with cream and butter or at least oil to caramelize the onions first or something like that. But in their conditions, it was good. Marisa even agreed as she began to eat. Nether said a thing as they ate.
Lyra finished first. “Mother?”
“Yes?”
“Can I have some more, please?” Marisa smiled.
“Yes darling, of course, do you want any bread with it?” Once again it was a no. Marisa liked holding Lyra’s bowl because at least some of the heat from it would have been from her daughter who she loved dearly, even if this whole day had been a trick (Marisa had let her guard down and was finally happy) it was a nice day.
Lyra was returned with another bowl and before doing so she took another sip of the canteen around her waist. She offered it to her mother who simply said Lyra could have it all and she would just boil the other water to kill bacteria and make tea, later.
‘See the ‘vegetable stock’ wasn’t that bad,’ Pan mockingly said, he freed himself from the monkey’s paws, it was nice to be comforted and that deeply relaxed but a part of him would never truly forgive that monkey. He came over to Lyra in his favourite white ermine form hiding in her sleeve to stay close to her. The monkey returning to Marisa’s side, she hummed in response.
In total Lyra had three servings, Marisa one (even if she was still hungry, she let Lyra have it) before the pot was empty.
Marisa eyed the dried flowers. She had an idea as she took the dishes and placed them in the same food rations, firewood, buckets filled with water- the ones she said she’d make tea later- jars with salt forming and salty sea water residue at the bottom and some tools next to the jars.
“Lyra?”
“Hmm?”
“Why don’t I give you a ‘bath’? You’ve been in those pyjamas for a few days now and there’s some fresh ones I can give you, though they are quite thin but there’s another blanket I can give you if you get cold.”
“Are you saying I smell?”
“No and you know that’s not what I’m saying.”
“How? There’s not exactly a basin or-“
“I can soak a cloth with cool water and wipe down your skin, it’s efficient I promise.” She noticed her daughter paused, “What is it?”
“That be humiliating.”
“ I do understand you are getting older and need your privacy though you know I don’t care, my only focus Is to keep your hygiene up to date so you don’t get sick nothing more.”
She thought for a moment and then agreed. Marisa busied herself getting a large clothe/ small towel down by the fire for her daughter to sit or lay.
“Do you need help, there’s a button-“ But her daughter assured her she could manage and Pan turned into a blue butterfly flapping his wings near Lyra. Marisa, again, busied herself opening one of the salt water jars and tilting it on it’s side, emptying the excess sea water into a dry jar. She then soaked a cloth.
When she turned back, Lyra was ready, she placed the recently soaked cloth against Lyra’s warm skin, rubbing away at any dirt or oil collected in the day. Eventually she placed Lyra’s head into a plain water bucket, the same one of the two she said she’d made tea with, gently wetting her hair. She then massaged her head with gentle scratches to the skull. She then lifted her head up, grabbing the jar. She dripped slowly the salty sea water onto her scalp, massaging it in each time until the jar was empty. Then she gently, washed out the sea water. It was the best ‘shampoo’ they had, helped getting rid of heavy oils.
Once it was all washed out, she grabbed the dried flowers, and wrinkled them with her fingers, into a flaky almost powder substance and sprinkling them on Lyra’s hair as if she were a princess and she was to Marisa.
She hadn’t needed to fetch a dry cloth once she was done, for the fire had dried Lyra but some wet locks of her hair clung to her neck. Marisa then went and fetched the other set of pyjamas and handed them to Lyra. They were a dark blue, with white on the sleeves near the wrists and the buttons. As Lyra got dressed, Marisa began to wash the dishes with Lyra’s ‘bath water’ with a small bar of white soap, she had managed to find while she found the sleeping drift originally.
She then crouched down next to Lyra, running fingers through her hair as if a brush. The monkey then alerted her of the sun setting and with that (and a yawn coming from Lyra) Marisa pushed her backed to bed. Pulling back the covers. She tucked Lyra in, her darling Lyra.
“Are you warm enough?”
“Yes, mother.” Pan was still a butterfly and the monkey stayed near the firewood, where he could see the sun setting in the distance.
“Do you want anything? Water? Tea?”
“No and I left the canteen near the blue jumper, There’s still some left if you would like a drink.”
“That’s very thoughtful, thank you dear, no but I’m alright.”
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
“Yes dear.” And she did until, Lyra’s eyes fluttered and closed, Pan stopped flapping his wings and in an ermine form curled up on a pillow and Lyra made deep breathes. Then Marisa stopped and decided to continue washing up and washing Lyra’s other pyjama set and organizing. After it was all up to her standards she then decided to leave, she would get some more fresh water, and sea water-
‘Marisa, just come to bed, hold her. I’ll wake you up early in the morning.’
Marisa smiled at her daemon and reached out to him, he flinched but then decided to be brave like Pan was earlier for he could sense the young daemon’s fear yet he still approached the older daemon and it had gone alright for them today, he leaned into her hand. And she closed her eyes, allowing herself some self-love before pulling away and walking into the other room, taking off her shoes and jumper and then snuggling up to her sleeping child allowing her sleep to also sleep.
Sunlight rays woke Lyra but it wasn’t early, nor late. A delicious smell also seemed to wake her as she saw her mother once again cooking, a rare occasion which seemed less rare nowadays.
“Mother?”
“Lyra, dear, you’re awake! Stay there, I’m making you breakfast in bed.” She definitely enjoyed being fussed over.
A few minutes later, her mother returned in the other room with another clay bowl but this time it was more shallow, as if a plate, a fork on that bowl and a glass. When Lyra got handed the bowl, the glass was placed on the bed side table next to her. Lyra smiled, she was happy.
It was roughly chopped warm salmon chunks in quail eggs cooked- not like an omelette, more scrambled- with some left over herbs from the night before and toasted bread.
“I thought there wasn’t any eggs,” Lyra asked puzzledly.
“I found some while I was collecting more water this morning. And I also found some berries, put some in water. It’s not exactly juice like we had back in London but it should be sweet and refreshing and definitely sweet because I added more honey in it, hope you like it.” Lyra smiled and dug in, and it was good.
“Are you not eating any?”
“No, dear I ate before but I appreciate your concern.”
Marisa made small talk as Lyra ate and drank and thoroughly enjoyed the meal. She couldn’t stop smiling, which made Marisa smile.
When Lyra was done, Marisa took away the dishes. “Mother?”
“Yes, my darling?”
“Can I maybe wear something not pyjamas today?”
Marisa paused and hesitated. “Lyra, I don’t exactly have clothes for you because you were going to be asleep. I do have some clothes of mine, you can try if you want.”
“Okay.”
Marisa pulled one of the two trunks out from under the bed, “Okay I’ll choose what I think might fit you and you choose your favourite okay?”
The first outfit was a black shirt and some long grey trousers.
“Did you go to a funeral recently?” Then Lyra thought of Roger and shivered, Pan leaned on her for support, whimpering slightly- this didn’t go unnoticed by the adult daemon and the human.
“Lyra! I am mixing and matching different outfits together.” Though the comment did make her laugh and Lyra knew she wasn’t really angry.
The second one was a dress which Lyra immediately gave a look to, she would have suggested the clothes she wore when Marisa found her but she knew she had grown.
The third one was a small white vest with a dark red jumper and a checkered grey trousers design. It was good enough, Marisa left so Lyra could change.
She came back to Lyra who had another question, Marisa would do the best to answer but she adored Lyra in her clothes and was very distracted that way.
“What are we going to do today?”
“What do you want to do?”
“What is there to do?”
Marisa chuckled slightly.
“Well I some cards, if you want to play.”
“Can we go on a walk. The sea?”
Marisa froze, that in itself was dangerous, with Lyra functioning fully- "The escape artist."
‘I’ll make sure they won’t.’ Her daemon was prepared to ruin his new ‘healed’ relationship with the daemon.
“Okay then only if you stay close.”
Marisa tided a few things away and got ready. Held out her hand to Lyra, who took it (She had also been putting on a pair of Marisa’s boots, which seemed to fit). The pair left the chapel together as they would have done back in London, hand to hand.
Marisa helped Lyra around the cliff, down to the where the blades of Ammophila arenaria stood tall- Marisa cleared a path with her footwear allowing Lyra carefully to walk without getting spiked. They had made it to the dunes, Marisa held Lyra as she walked what looked like a tunnel, Marisa smiled as she felt Lyra’s had grasp as soon as they entered the tunnel and the darkness that surrounded that. She guided her daughter of where to stand, sand from the dunes turned into rock. It was a shortcut without getting wet, wading through rough waves. Marisa paused.
“What is it?”
“Look up darling.”
In the cave, at the roof were crystals glowing, were quartz with a dirty purple/pink tint. Marisa reached up and with some strength managed to pull a weak crystal off of it’s root, passing it to Lyra.
“Thank you.”
She led her through the tunnel and out onto what the cliff the chapel faced. Marisa sat down on a rock and allowed Lyra some free rein. She watched Lyra and Pan. They were happy. The sun highlighting all of Marisa’s favourite features (All of Lyra.) Which made Marisa happy two.
What felt like minutes, were hours. Eventually, Lyra came back.
“I was looking for shells, it was hard. There en’t a lot of them here with all the rock.”
“Did you find some?”
“I found matching ones.” She handed her mother one, Marisa smiled. “For the crystal.”
They decided to head back.
When they got in the chapel, Marisa made some tea. Lyra went to go find the cards mentioned before. The two then sat on the bed, sipping away and playing. Lyra won some but Marisa won most.
Another hour had passed, it was by now late afternoon. Marisa excused herself, leaving Lyra in the chapel by herself. When she came back, she hadn’t entered that part of the chapel where Lyra was, she was merely standing in the doorway when she heard voices. One belonged to Lyra but the other wasn’t Pans.
She carefully walked in more slightly to see, she was able to see them but they couldn’t see and hadn’t heard her yet. She gasped silently when she found out who it was, she saw them but they handed heard her yet.
It was the boy. Will. He had found them.