lyra_silver: (then your eyes shall be opened)
1) Lyra is registered at St Sophia's School under the name Lyra Silvertongue.

2) A few years ago, at a party for which Lyra supplied the contraband genniver, one of Lyra's classmates asked why she had such an odd name. Lyra, rather drunk by then, ignored Pantalaimon's warnings and told all the girls that the king of the armored bears had given it to her in return for his throne.

3) The most popular girl in Lyra's year (whose name may possibly be Elisabeth) called her "Lying Lyra" for the rest of the year.

4) Lyra never mentioned armored bears to her classmates again.

5) Last year, when Elisabeth needed an abortion, she came at once to Lyra for help.

6) Lyra didn't ask any questions. She just took the girl to Ma Costa, the gyptian nurse-midwife.

7) Elisabeth has defended Lyra to her friends ever since.

8) Lyra still behaves towards Elisabeth exactly the same way she did since that drunken party. She ignores her.
lyra_silver: (Lyra's Oxford)
Today Lyra and Pantalaimon sneak out of maths class early, with a conspiratorial smile for their classmates and a quick glance at the half-blind lecturer. They cut through the University Parks, behind Gabriel College. They hurry down Holywell Street and the road curving past Magdalen, and climb over the fence of the Botanical Gardens. It's daytime and the gardens are open, of course, but Lyra feels it would be a certain kind of failure to pay the entrance fee like the tourists do. These are her gardens, after all.

Across the park, past the fountain, and back at the plainer end of the garden, just by the riverbank, the bench waits for them. It's empty. No one would dare sit on Lyra's bench, not on Midsummer's Day. Lyra runs to it and takes her seat. Pantalaimon slips up behind her just as the first set of bells begins to chime noon.
lyra_silver: (Default)
*Lyra carries the sleeping Anthy into Lyra's staff room, placing her on the bed and gasping for breath. Flower petals and blood from Anthy's body are now covering Lyra's dress, which is still mostly sparkly pink under the bloodstains. Lyra hesitates and glances at Anthy before removing her dress and putting on a clean nightgown; Pantalaimon politely averts his eyes. Lyra considers Anthy's soaked gown for a moment, but reluctantly leaves it where it is, and wraps Anthy in a warm, dry blanket. She waves a hand to turn off the anbaric light, and then she and Pantalaimon settle on the bed next to, but not touching, Anthy.*

Pantalaimon *whispering*: What will we dream? What?
Lyra: I don't know, Pan.

*Lyra and Pan hold each other. It is a long time before they sleep.*
lyra_silver: (Default)
Anchor, hourglass, bird. Lyra concentrates.

Kassandra and Ophelia, do they still have daemons?

She lets herself relax, unfocus, so the alethiometer can guide her. It's much harder now than it was a year ago, but she can still control it; the long hand of the alethiometer begins swinging, around and around. At last it stops at lizard, serpent, elephant, camel, bird -- in fact, at every animal around the alethiometer's brass rim. It takes Lyra forty minutes to interpret the answer, which turns out to be a simple

Yes, yes, yes.

Can I show them their daemons?

She turns the hands again, waits again. The answer this time involves eight different symbols, with layers and layers of meaning all interwoven. Lyra sits in her room, with the light burning, and Pantalaimon at her side, reading and reading until she can understand what the alethiometer is trying to tell her. At last understanding, she falls into sleep.
lyra_silver: (Default)
*Lyra sits on her bed, with a small brass object -- an alethiometer -- upon her lap, and a huge book at her side. Pantalaimon is curled up at her other side.* Where am I?
*She sets the hands of the alethiometer at the symbols mirror, bird, moon. The hands begin to spin, stopping at fish, sea, star; fish, sea, star. Lyra pulls out the book, flips pages rapidly several times.* In another universe. Somewhere you've never been before.
I knew that much, thank you. What's happening here?
*She moves the hands to arrow, parchment, mirror. They spin for a long time, but finally stop at hourglass, hourglass, mirror; hourglass, hourglass, mirror; hourglass, hourglass, mirror. She flips through the book again.* The same story, but not the same.
How not the same? *She points all three hands at the mirror. They trace a complicated array of symbols, in several sequences, which she eventually translates as,* The serpent-angel is like the woman scientist. He gave the red fruit to your foremother. He is lost, though, and cannot be trusted. The great-red-angel is like your father; beware, and beware the woman with green eyes. Stay by the white-angel, or the door-opener, or the barkeep, or the man with wings, or the pink-haired girl, or the ladies in the corners. The madwoman is in danger. The Authority here is not dead.
Am I safe here? *She spins the hands again.* Yes, if you take care.


lyra_silver: (Default)
Lyra Silvertongue

January 2007

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