His Dark Materials
Cheezy Frumaja
Title: Soul Searching
Summary: Lyra and Will are losing their sanity, lost in their own worlds, in a love-lost desperation-and still they have faith that they will see each other again.
Rating: PG-13 (for profane language)
Disclaimers: We all know whom Will and Lyra belong to...
Chapter 1: Lyra's World
"It en't here! The opening en't here! Oh, Will, I can't find the opening-where are you?" Lyra scrabbled at the stone wall of a Jordan College building, not noticing here torn fingernails, and the blood oozing slowly out from beneath them. "Where have you gone?" In desperate longing, she flung herself violently at the building, ignoring the stares of the passing gyptians. "No..." Tears of bitter sadness leaked out from the corners of Lyra's eyes, making tracks in the dirt of her unkempt face.
Gently, a stranger from the marketplace tiptoed over, noticing the distraught girl.
"It's okay, honey-it's okay...you're Lyra Silvertongue, en't you?" The soothing voice washed over her, and though Lyra's eyes were closed, she could feel the presence of the gyptian woman. She nodded. "Lyra...the one who tried to save my Tony. I know who you are. It's okay. Would you like to tell me what's wrong?"
"Mrs....Makarios? Tony's mother?" Lyra opened her eyes slowly, blinking back her salty tears. She did not see the woman's face at first, for the sun was directly behind her, but she could just make out the square line of her jaw. A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but Lyra held them at bay. Another playmate she had lost to the gobblers...and Roger...and many others, to be sure.
"Yes, Lyra, Tony's mother."
"Have you seen Will? Will? Where is he?" Mrs. Makarios looked down in pity at the teenage girl's face, whose eyes were wide with childish hope.
"Who is Will? What's his last name?"
"Just Will, just Will," said Lyra vehemently, as if Mrs. Makarios should know this. "He's in the other...he's got to be...where? Where?" Lyra suddenly grabbed the old woman's shoulders. The woman stared at her oddly.
"You en't in your right mind," Mrs. Makarios said slowly and carefully. She made a quick decision then and there.
"Where is he? WHERE?"
"Lyra, you come with me, girl-I dunno where is your right mind, or Will, but you're gonna come with me, and you en't gonna rave like I saw you doing. Besides, Lord Faa wants a word with you." Gently, but firmly, Mrs. Makarios pried Lyra's hands off her shoulders, and took one of her wrists instead, pulling the girl up with a surge of strength. Lyra did not resist, much to the woman's relief, for the girl looked to be right sturdy, and rather fortuitous.
*
John Faa studied Lyra carefully as Mary Makarios led her into his cabin on the longboat. She was certainly taller than last he'd seen her, and her hair had grown shaggy and long-he could tell it had not had much in the way of care. Her face was streaked with dirt, her legs were covered in scraped and scratches, and her collarbones stuck out as though she were naught but a skeleton. And her clothes were filthy beyond the point of recognition-the knee length skirt was torn in numerous places, burned on the hem, and the color was indistinguishable. The sleeveless olive top she wore looked like a kitchen rag wrapped haphazardly around her chest and across her shoulders, and was ripped so that it came to the beginning of her ribs.
Pantalaimon followed glumly behind. Mrs. Makarios, though she knew that Lyra had to have a daemon, was surprised. She could've sworn he wasn't with Lyra before. Something about this made her shiver unconsciously. But now, here he was, slinking along the wooden floor in the shape of an auburn-red Pine Marten.
"Lyra Silvertongue..." John Faa uttered, tapping his fingers on the wooden table in front of him. He motioned for the girl to seat herself, and she did so with a rather glazed look on her face. "It has been a long time." With a dismissive gesture, he signaled for Mrs. Makarios to leave the cabin. Lyra did not reply for several seconds, but only picked up Pantalaimon and set him softly on her lap, stroking him absently. When she did speak finally, something in her scratchy, melancholy voice told him there was something very wrong.
"Will?"
Cheezy Frumaja
Title: Soul Searching
Summary: Lyra and Will are losing their sanity, lost in their own worlds, in a love-lost desperation-and still they have faith that they will see each other again.
Rating: PG-13 (for profane language)
Disclaimers: We all know whom Will and Lyra belong to...
Chapter 1: Lyra's World
"It en't here! The opening en't here! Oh, Will, I can't find the opening-where are you?" Lyra scrabbled at the stone wall of a Jordan College building, not noticing here torn fingernails, and the blood oozing slowly out from beneath them. "Where have you gone?" In desperate longing, she flung herself violently at the building, ignoring the stares of the passing gyptians. "No..." Tears of bitter sadness leaked out from the corners of Lyra's eyes, making tracks in the dirt of her unkempt face.
Gently, a stranger from the marketplace tiptoed over, noticing the distraught girl.
"It's okay, honey-it's okay...you're Lyra Silvertongue, en't you?" The soothing voice washed over her, and though Lyra's eyes were closed, she could feel the presence of the gyptian woman. She nodded. "Lyra...the one who tried to save my Tony. I know who you are. It's okay. Would you like to tell me what's wrong?"
"Mrs....Makarios? Tony's mother?" Lyra opened her eyes slowly, blinking back her salty tears. She did not see the woman's face at first, for the sun was directly behind her, but she could just make out the square line of her jaw. A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but Lyra held them at bay. Another playmate she had lost to the gobblers...and Roger...and many others, to be sure.
"Yes, Lyra, Tony's mother."
"Have you seen Will? Will? Where is he?" Mrs. Makarios looked down in pity at the teenage girl's face, whose eyes were wide with childish hope.
"Who is Will? What's his last name?"
"Just Will, just Will," said Lyra vehemently, as if Mrs. Makarios should know this. "He's in the other...he's got to be...where? Where?" Lyra suddenly grabbed the old woman's shoulders. The woman stared at her oddly.
"You en't in your right mind," Mrs. Makarios said slowly and carefully. She made a quick decision then and there.
"Where is he? WHERE?"
"Lyra, you come with me, girl-I dunno where is your right mind, or Will, but you're gonna come with me, and you en't gonna rave like I saw you doing. Besides, Lord Faa wants a word with you." Gently, but firmly, Mrs. Makarios pried Lyra's hands off her shoulders, and took one of her wrists instead, pulling the girl up with a surge of strength. Lyra did not resist, much to the woman's relief, for the girl looked to be right sturdy, and rather fortuitous.
*
John Faa studied Lyra carefully as Mary Makarios led her into his cabin on the longboat. She was certainly taller than last he'd seen her, and her hair had grown shaggy and long-he could tell it had not had much in the way of care. Her face was streaked with dirt, her legs were covered in scraped and scratches, and her collarbones stuck out as though she were naught but a skeleton. And her clothes were filthy beyond the point of recognition-the knee length skirt was torn in numerous places, burned on the hem, and the color was indistinguishable. The sleeveless olive top she wore looked like a kitchen rag wrapped haphazardly around her chest and across her shoulders, and was ripped so that it came to the beginning of her ribs.
Pantalaimon followed glumly behind. Mrs. Makarios, though she knew that Lyra had to have a daemon, was surprised. She could've sworn he wasn't with Lyra before. Something about this made her shiver unconsciously. But now, here he was, slinking along the wooden floor in the shape of an auburn-red Pine Marten.
"Lyra Silvertongue..." John Faa uttered, tapping his fingers on the wooden table in front of him. He motioned for the girl to seat herself, and she did so with a rather glazed look on her face. "It has been a long time." With a dismissive gesture, he signaled for Mrs. Makarios to leave the cabin. Lyra did not reply for several seconds, but only picked up Pantalaimon and set him softly on her lap, stroking him absently. When she did speak finally, something in her scratchy, melancholy voice told him there was something very wrong.
"Will?"