Lyra Silvertongue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lyra_silver) wrote2004-07-12 03:14 pm
lyra_silver) wrote2004-07-12 03:14 pm
Reading the Signs
*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.
*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.