#secondbetrayer

She knew what Mrs Coulter meant: she had expected her to try and run. Lyra planned on it though, just not quite yet. It was easier to just go along with her mother until the perfect opportunity arose for Lyra to escape. If she didn’t find one on her own, Will would find her and rescue her, she was certain of it. They’d be together again soon enough.

“Will left me alone.” Lyra scowled slightly, hoping to give the impression that she was upset with Will. “If I’m in danger like you say, I’d rather be with someone who’s been looking for me all this time an’ I know wouldn’t do that.” Her lips then upturned in a smile that she hoped would be enough, along with her words, to keep her mother sweet.

“Where are we going?”

Marisa still half expected Lyra to run, as she remembered her daughter’s deception at Bolvangar very vividly. She remembered fully believing Lyra, trusting her completely, so happy to have her back, and then very soon being met with the spyfly that struck her face. She was determined to not make the same mistake again. She would cautiously watch Lyra and if she got any sense she was trying to escape, she would pounce. Marisa didn’t like having this relationship with her child, but it was better than the alternative of her child being dead.

Her eyes are wide and pleading, begging for Lyra to understand. This wasn’t her fault, not this one. She had tried to keep the child out of harms way, but when Lyra found Marisa stooped over the still body at her feet, one could only draw hideous conclusions. And they wouldn’t be unfounded. Of course not. Marisa was a monster. Had always been. But this? No, no, this was the Magisterial soldiers, shooting down anyone who crossed their path. The golden monkey carefully moves closer to Pantalaimon, a paw stretched outward as if to say, ‘Please, listen, stay!’

The Kelpie was bustling with patrons in the middle of the day. The sweet aromas of a cooked meal. The old-time radio crackled to life with some sort of instrumental song. When he heard the bell above the door ring its knell, Eden came out from the back and smiled.

❝ Guid day, lassie. " Eden greeted. " Welcome to the Kelpie. Have a seat anywhere, ah'll get ye a menu. Whit are ye in the mood fer? ❞

     Browsing the pages of a late theologist, smoke had begun to fill in the small apartment, until her primate took the decision to open the window and spread some air inside. Mrs Coulter was too absorbed by her reading that she barely noticed his actions, her cigarette’s ashes burning up and by chance, she mechanically removed it with a swift move of her fingers in the ashtray. However, her blue magnificent eyes never left the sheets. 

Her daemon turned around before any sound echoed to them, but he was alert enough to know someone was coming their way. That’s when the dirty blonde looked away from her book, sharing a knowing look with him. Squinted eyes, she waited. Both waited. 

A knock. A fragile one, but still a knock. 

No one knew they were there... no one knew they were alive. Just a simple letter left for Lyra with her address though. Could it be ? Mrs Coulter stood up, and carefully but slowly opened the door. A few inches before she caught her daughter’s gaze. Her fierce expression even after all these years. The door was pulled open by her daemon, seeking the presence of the pine marten... No one. 

send me 🗣️ for incorrect quotes of your muse and mine

@secondbetrayer sent : nononono!   for lyra to hold marisa's head / face while she's injured, brush her thumb along her cheeks & refuse to accept that marisa is dying.

˚ · .✧˚ · .✧˚ · . ❝ it's—— ok. ❞ the voice got caught up in her throat. marisa's vision was clouded ; lyra's face seemingly shrouded behind a foggy glass & the eyes blinked rapidly, desperate to take in the view of her daughter's face. this one more time. this... one last time. the daughter who's image, barely a newborn infant, she had tried to push into the darkest corners of her mind far too many times. the image that always came back, no matter how much she would try to deny. the image she now wanted to hold onto. so grown she was, marisa couldn't help but think & the thought brought a sense of serenity. the regret was still there. for having missed so much. for will have missed on watching her turn into a young woman. the cold, lignified fingers managed to close around lyra's wrists ; warm, soft & full of life. ❝ she —— will be o-okay. ❞ a barely heard squeak was the only answer. her dæmon was curled up nearby. one set of his dark fingers squeezing of her clothes, the other reaching out in longing for pantalaimon. marisa took in his anguish & the tears rolled down her dirty cheeks, though a smile — small & sad — painted marisa's lips. ❝ you—— you'll be ok-ay. ❞ she spoke to lyra this time, fingers tightening the grip; barely a weak squeeze. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

@secondbetrayer asked: i loved you so much once.

she remembers. small arms eager as could be, reaching to ensnare her the second they could. a strange, genuine excitement she hadn't quite witnessed before, something so loving and unconditional, a secret buried she hadn't felt until years later within the walls of Jordan College. that's when it had started, she supposes. she tells herself she didn't care before then, hadn't the capacity to, but she did. nights spent with Asriel, the splintering turmoil of their relationship, mourning what they couldn't have. how a child born into such an unruly world had retained a heart so big, shown such love to a woman she knew as little more than a stranger offering her an opportunity, she couldn't fathom it.

Artemis was locking up for the night, after a long day of candy making and serving customers. His cousin Persephone had left ten minutes earlier after discussing future products and sales. He was about to turn the alarm on when he heard something nearby. Possibly an animal?