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freuleinanna · 1 year

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the lost heartbeats

golden ones so fiercely burning hearts regretting, falling, yearning Pairing: Marisa Coulter x Asriel Belacqua Short summary: A heartbeat tells a story, but when it skips, it writes a novel. Just a little something to recount the moments two people with the steadiest heartbeats felt their hearts fall (aka me sobbing over every parent moment ever). Pre-canon and canon Masriel. Word count: ~ 1600 I am not sorry, this is for my feral heretical parents & lovers 💔

~ 1 ~

It happens in the most unfascinating way possible, over dinner, when they find themselves sat across each other at the table. A young man hurries to his place, and something in the way he carries himself, pressing the all-too-new jacket to his chest while listening on the go, tells her he's used to being late to everything. He sits. He looks at her.

Her husband is by her right side and she feels the need to tug at his arm, and tug again, and quietly say 'Edward, take me away, please', then add 'I'll do something terrible if you don't'. In her mind, she does that. She goes to their room and doesn't give another thought to the young man with blue eyes so fierce as though he'd just stepped in from the cruel blizzard. In reality, her heart stops - at the faint, yet painful loss this prospect sets in her. She's somewhere between intrigued and instantly infatuated. She doesn't know his name. What foolishness.

He sits, and he forgets to listen. Someone very important is speaking about something very important, and he vaguely remembers that he'd put a lot of efforts into getting here. He wanted to listen. He forgets how to. The young woman in front of him is staring in a way people give you a side-glance just before taking their eyes off of you, yet she doesn't. Nor does he want her to. His chest is like a stone wrapped tightly in his ridiculous suit. Just for a moment, he can't breathe. Then it comes again, the familiar steady beats against the rib cage. He suddenly chokes at the free-fall emptiness preceeding them.

He doesn't fully realize where that skipped heartbeat went. It's lost somewhere between 'Edward Coulter's wife' and 'Marisa, my love', and he later finds that he had never truly reclaimed it. She stole it. He gave it away gladly. And then, again, later - when he tells a stupid joke to her husband and sees laughter in her eyes, and her dark hair shine with soft golden gleams like the fur of her monkey daemon.

He comes too late, as always, and she's already a Mrs. Neither of them stops at the obstacle.

~ 2 ~

Lyra is born, and she is everything like her father, and nothing like her mother's husband. Marisa will never admit that, but when she's holding her daughter in her sinful arms, prepared to reject her, she suddenly shudders at the thought. She falls, with a heart bursting out of the chest. It forgets to beat properly. Her daemon, exhausted just like her, looks at the child in helpless admiration.

Asriel once told her that, should she want it, he'd fight for that child. He would rise and fight anything, anyone, with all his ferocity. There's always so much fight in him. She almost regrets refusing his offer.

Lyra is sleeping, while her mother, despite all her best efforts, is falling in love with her. It's like being plunged into a bottomless pit. Marisa thinks that, if that little bundle opened her eyes now and sweetly asked her to jump in an abyss, she would. She would jump in them all.

'Pantalaimon,' she whispers to the tiny mouse, clutching at her daughter's chest. Means, merciful. She's going to need all mercy after what she's about to do.

~ 3 ~

Giving Lyra away strains at her heart the same as being separated from her daemon. The same as with her daemon, Marisa doesn't show pain. Doesn't mean it's not there, in the glassy calm eyes and a thin arhythmic beating of her heart.

Asriel is furious with her, she knows, and yet he doesn't have time for their daughter either. He forbids the Master of the Jordan College to let Marisa in. She pretends she doesn't care, he pretends he doesn't give a damn about her not caring. They both hurt. Neither of them hurts enough to get them off their magnificent ambitious paths.

~ 4 ~

It's the worst in Bolvangar. Her dark, truly northern heart, cold through and through, simply stops at the sound of Lyra's voice.

A mother couldn't bear it. Marisa Coulter can, because she was late for motherhood just like Asriel was late for that dinner, but still, between the realization and the frantic salvation of her own child, there is nothing in her chest. Heartbeat - lost. Maybe it leapt out to Lyra. Maybe it left her actual, physical body for just a moment. She wouldn't be surprised. That girl was greedy. She loved that girl with everything she had.

That missed hearbeat feels like falling towards a sure, inevitable break.

~ 5 ~

Asriel loses his heartbeats, too. When she refuses to join him, his chest explodes inwards. He wanted her to say yes. When she paused before the answer, he already knew.

He hoped Marisa would see through him when he threatened her, and his giant, steady heart, that kept him going through snowstorms and the wilderness, stumbled helplessly when he realized that she had seen through him, indeed, but chose to stay. He felt untethered. She stood there with his heartbeat bleeding off her fingertips and looked at him like she had always done, with her constant, unbending 'Asriel, no...' dried silently on her lips. Strange how he didnt recognize the taste.

He wanted to ask for this heartbeat back. This one, she stole.

Though if he was being honest with himself, he still gave it to her gladly.

~ 6 ~

Bolvangar was not, in fact, the worst. The worst is when Marisa looks at her daughter, feeling Lyra's primal fear of her, and can't find another way to protect her except by hurting her even worse.

'Let us go,' Lyra whispers, half-asleep, because that's the thought that comes to her first when she regains consciousness. That's where they are at. Her own daughter hates her enough to beg for her freedom.

But I remember the day you were born, Marisa wants to say, blinking the raging tears away, as if it would change anything. I remember holding you, I remember loving you, I'm not as awful as you think. I'm not a monster. I love you. It's my way of loving you. She bites it right at her lips, crushing bitter words before they ever leave her mouth. Her maternal love is like barbed wire. Cuts both of them. She doesn't know how to stop.

Her heart falls silent for a fraction of a second every time Lyra looks at her with suffering, pleading eyes.

~ 7 ~

'We should have married, and brought her up ourselves.'

He blinks at the thought. She says something else, continues talking, and eventually, he manages to reply, but his mind is still caught. They should have. The should have, a relentless echo. There's a lot they should have done. They should have done everything. Her hair catch a billion tiny fires from the light, and she looks so tired, so pale and tired. He remembers the night they met, and how he thought, hungrily, joyfully: this is it. She's the one. He looks at Marisa now and still thinks the same, only with sudden doom. He wants to break something. He wants to touch her hair.

His beastly heart misses a beat, and it's like Stelmaria's claws. He looks at Marisa. He doesn't know how to say that she's right. Should-haves and what-ifs hang heavily in the air. Thorns everywhere. They can't untangle them.

~ 8 ~

Every second beat now, sometimes even every first. He thinks, he'll die. Crushing blows keep pouring down on his head and shoulders. No one can be that desperate and still alive.

Too many at once now. Heartbeats flooding out of him, and when Asriel gains enough consciouseness to understand that, he doesn't want them to go in vain. If anything, they should go to her.

'Marisa! Marisa!'

I loved you. I love you still. I'm scared. I was wrong. He doesn't care about his war anymore, nor about the angel trying to shake him down to rise and kill his daughter. Their daughter. He's just crying out her name. There's no more powerful an authority for him, than her name. He should have known that earlier.

Another beat lost. Young Mrs. Coulter laughs at his joke with her eyes, arm at her husband's elbow, beautiful hair he wants to dishevel gleam in the soft light, and he knows he's won. He knows he won't let go. He mustn't.

And for her, he doesn't.

~ 9 ~

She jumps. And it is all worth it, because, as a very wise man once told her, her life is, too, worth a mere one-tenth of her daughter's. Even less. Much less, if she's honest. Her heart falters.

One beat. She knew that abyss would find her from the day she held Lyra in her arms. She has no regrets.

Two beats. Forever falling, next to Asriel. Almost comforting. His hands are bloody and spasmed with effort. She touches them briefly as they fall.

Three beats. Young Asriel Belacqua sits across from her, and his eyes are piercing blue like she's never seen before. They will fight, she knows it even then. And she wants it anyway. In a way, they have been falling together ever since.

Four beats. Lyra's face. Her daemon holding out his paw. It allows one painful, shattering thrust into her heart. She wants to call Asriel's name to tell him that it's alright, that they did well, or just to feel his name on her tongue; but can't.

And, after that, no count is needed, because all heartbeats are lost and fall eternally around them.

#something i wrote #because i had an ounce of free time and a full-blown obssession #the way i love these motherfuckers UGH #magnificent characters #also quite probably my 13 yo ass saw this and decided to stan forever the problematic couple #hdm #hdm fic #hdm fanfic #his dark materials #his dark materials fanfiction #his dark materials fic #hdm spoilers #marisa coulter #asriel belacqua #lord asriel #marisa x asriel #asriel x marisa #chaos family #masriel

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i-was-bored-so-this-happened · 5 months

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Rae Writes!

Indeed she does! She writes on Tumblr, she writes on AO3, she takes requests on occasion! And here she'll link you to all of the fics she's done, with accompanying hashtags and playlists where applicable!

This will be updated as time goes on, but for now I'll be starting with my bigger fics <3

Banner by @late2000shistoricalreenactment i love youuuu

Fandoms

Primeval

The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

His Dark Materials

Baldur's Gate 3

Key

👤Original Character Fic

📄One Shot

📑One Shot Compilation

📚 Multi-Chapter

🪐Alternate Universe

🔀Crossover

Primeval

Alexandra's Evolution 👤📚

Alex Hart just wants to pass her exams. That's all she wants. To pass her exams and [eventually] get her doctorate. And she should have some advantage in that, given that her uncle is her professor’s partner. But then Connor Temple turns up with a suspicious newspaper and convinces Nick Cutter and Stephen Hart to follow him to the Forest of Dean, where a government official called Oliver Leek is waiting for them. Him, a dinosaur, and a portal to the past.

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-?) - AO3 Link - #alex hart - General Playlist - Linear Playlist

The Anomaly Detection Device 📑

Collection of short works written with the help of a random generator I made!

- AO3 Link - Random Generator Link

His Dark Materials

Sanchez & Scoresby 👤📚

A hot-air balloon is on its way North, to Trollesund. Far below them, on the sea, a Gyptian boat sails in the same direction. On the boat is a girl who will change the world and in the sky are two adults who will guide her to her destiny. Their paths haven’t crossed yet, but they soon will, and once they have they’ll never diverge.

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-?) - AO3 Link - #kit sanchez - Playlist

Opus Number One 📄

Just. Soft, chill times with Will and Lyra. Also me being a music nerd and a big fan of Will knowing how to play the piano

- AO3 Link

The Mandalorian

Second Star 👤📚

The Mandalorian finds himself in need of help. Shortly after finding the Child, he realises he isn't exactly cut out for care-taking, but he needs to keep the Child alive until he can deliver him. Luckily for him, he's found an ally in Kuiil the Ugnaught, who knows someone that might be able to help.

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-?) - AO3 Link - #okan the unknown - Playlist

Baldur's Gate 3

Greensleeves 👤📚

Xaph has come crashing to earth with a mind flayer tadpole embedded in her skull. She must find allies, forge friendships and brave the wilds to find a cure for the parasite, a journey which will prove even more perilous than initially expected

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-?) - AO3 Link - #xaph [tav] - Playlist

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singstar234 · 1 year

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SPOILERS 3x06

Summary: Ready to leave this world and step back into his own, Lee decides to leave Lyra a piece of himself for her to remember him by.

Who else cried in this episode? I hope you enjoy this little short. I needed this after what I witnessed.

#lee scoresby #his dark materials fanfic #lyra belacqua #lee scoresby fanfic #lyra belacqua fanfic #his dark materials #hdm fanfiction #hdm fiction #hdm #hdm fanfic #spoilers #his dark materials fanfiction #his dark materials fic #one shot

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torvagatai · 1 year

Photo

If anyone needs a new reason to cry over these two today, just remember that the modern-era Will of the TV adaptation took this photo of the Tower of the Angels on the day he and Lyra first met. Meaning that he’s got a photo of Lyra that he probably doesn’t even remember taking, and on some uneventful, monotonous day when he’s back home and absently flicking through his phone he’ll find it. He was in a rush to catch up with her, he remembers, so it’s not a very good photo - a little blurred, taken at an odd angle. Lyra’s not even the focus of the picture; she’s turned away from him, her face completely hidden, Pan almost cut out of the frame entirely. But it’s unmistakably her.

The first time he stumbles across it, Will can hardly bear to look at it. But he keeps the photo always, makes multiple digital and physical copies just in case. Sometimes it hurts to look at. Sometimes it brings him comfort. He takes a copy to Mary Malone and she tacks it up on her laboratory wall. On one of the less painful days he shows it to his mother and laughs as he tells her the story of how she attacked him when they first met.

And on more than one Midsummer’s Day he takes it with him to the Botanic Garden.

#his dark materials #lyra x will #will x lyra #silverparry #panjava #listen i was SO SURE when this episode first aired that the photo would come back in the s3 finale #but it didn't so take this headcanon instead #if that's not enough pain for you just remember that lyra doesn't have any photos of will at all #i kind of want to write a fic about this now

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tragicotps · 5 months

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Young Masriel au [part 1: First meeting]: Recently returned from one of his expeditions, Asriel plans to crash one of Edward Coulter's exclusive dinner parties for networking purposes. At the door he's greeted by a mysterious and attractive young woman, who turns out to be married to the party host and coincidentally one of his biggest political rivals.

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idkaguyorsomething · 4 months

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The Problem of Susan Fic Recs

For many reasons, The Last Battle is probably the most contentious addition to the Narnia canon. The standout, though, has to be the infamous Problem of Susan, wherein the Pevensie children are all killed in a train crash and brought to Narnia 2 Electric Boogaloo aka heaven, then declare that Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia because of her interest in “lipsticks and nylons”. Hardly any time is spent on this, but the implications have been the ground for a lot of argument and discussion. What exactly would happen to Susan, and should it have happened? Over the years, dozens of fic writers have thrown their hats in the ring and weighed in on the subject, making the Problem of Susan almost a prism for the fandom: everyone shines through it a bit differently, resulting in a wide spectrum. Here’s some of the highlights under the cut.

http://shedletsky.com/blog/the-god-who-loves-you

Starting with the fic that coined the term, written by Neil Gaiman himself, this fic is a reflection and deconstruction of the idea that Susan would be able to find Narnia again by delving into the trauma that the experience of losing all her family at once as well as the social injustices that a young woman of her time would’ve faced, something that the narrative of The Last Battle never really addresses. It took off for a reason, as it presents a lot of good food for thought, but it’s also got some pretty weird shit that can feel like it’s conflating adulthood with edginess. Well worth a read for all the points it raises, but if you’re fond of canon you probably won’t like the way it takes a hammer to it.

Now this one is exactly what you’d want to read if you wanted some feel-good time. This story is probably the closest to how C S Lewis would’ve written Susan’s return to Narnia, detailing her rediscovering all the things she put away as well as what led up to her rejecting Narnia in the first place. It falls more to the end of being almost uncritical of canon, with the focus on Susan basically having the same sort of religious rediscovery that C S Lewis himself had in his life. Because of how she was treated in canon, that can be pretty frustrating, but the ending feels nothing short of joyous.

Swinging back to the other end of the spectrum, this fic is very critical of the idea of The Last Battle being a pretty happy ending for everyone, unambiguously stating that life is always worth living for all the Pevensie kids. It explores what their lives could’ve been like if they didn’t die, being a rebuttal of C S Lewis’ themes rather than a continuation of them while feeling equally as happy as the fic directly above.

And this story feels like a midway point between the above two. It dives really deep into the emotional damage that Susan would’ve suffered before and after the train crash in some absolutely gorgeous prose, showing both her and Aslan with great sympathy while maintaining that what happened to her is not a punishment in any way. Bittersweet and very, very good.

Heading back towards the more critical end of the spectrum, this fic presents a Susan who is not interested in finding Narnia again, only her family. She is very much a character straight out of an ancient myth rather than a teen trying to make sense of a senseless situation here, filled with determination as much as desperation. It’s probably the closest fic on here to having something close to a plot as well as a character study, with the exception of The Queen’s Return and one other:

Being a crossover with what’s pretty much the antithesis of the Chronicles of Narnia, His Dark Materials, it’s probably easy for you to guess which side of the spectrum this story falls on. It’s more of a HDM story than a Narnia one, but the two worlds blend together surprisingly well, and it gives us a rare look into a Susan who’s lived decades of her life when the story picks up. She’s pretty much the Professor and it is fascinating, as is everything left to interpretation by this gem of a fic that is ambiguous yet deeply satisfying.

¡And here’s Susan as a Doctor Who companion! This isn’t directly a Narnia story so much as it is one about two people much older than they look mourning the loss of their worlds, with a Susan who is a queen wise beyond her years. Reading it is like taking an ice shower. It doesn’t hold back on the grief, and as a result it manages to feel honest as it reaches a warm ending.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/24311

Despite also being a crossover, this is in some ways the opposite of touch the sky with two arms. Susan is more of an everyday young woman than a queen, and [SLIGHT SPOILERS] Narnia itself does feature directly. But y’know, that’s part of what makes fandom so interesting. Not everyone is going to have the same take on everything, and the ending of this leans more happy than melancholy.

¿A shipping fic that’s also a crossover with Peter Pan that features neither Neverland or Narnia? Yes, this one probably has the least to do with Narnia or Aslan, but it tells a very compelling story about living life and growing up, something that isn’t perfect but can be good if you find someone you want to spend your life with. Susan Pevensie and Wendy Darling are a really good couple, pinky promise.

Technically more a series of ensemble oneshots, but Susan features very prominently in a lot of them, and they will make you feel every feeling that everything else on this list might’ve given you. Satisfaction, devastation, simple joy, just go give it a shot.

#phew that’s probably just barely scraping the surface but those would be my top recs #feel free to add on any others that you know about #the tournament will go up soon btw #narnia #chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia #susan pevensie #the problem of susan #the last battle #his dark materials #hdm #tcon #pevensie siblings #wendy darling #doctor who #fic rec #ao3

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horsegirlwarcrimes · 7 days

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I have come back am I allowed to ask about more WIPs from your list. I am so so curious about "Shen Yuan Gets Two Daemons", the intersection of daemons with transmigration is so interesting to me. (I may be back again later but I am trying once again to not do So Many Asks At Once)

omg thank u for the continued asks!!

for this fic, the concept is that when shen yuan transmigrates into shen qingqiu, he takes over the OGs body but not his soul. therefore ergo, shen qingqiu is gone, but his daemon is still there. shen yuan reluctantly makes a deal with the og scum villain's daemon—xiu ya won't turn him in for the body snatching if shen yuan works on finding a way to resurrect shen qingqiu. shen yuan's own soul is very excited to suddenly have a body of her own AND a bonus brother.

Shen Yuan returns to the world of the living with a scream. Not his own, as it turns out. He awakens laying in bed, something warm and soft and weighty laying in his chest. There’s a soft thump thump thump that beats in time with his heart. For a moment, he feels perfectly at peace—like the best ASMR ever, sending tingles through his whole body and making every muscle relax. That’s when the screaming starts. Shen Yuan shoots up and instantly regrets it. The weight on his chest goes flying off with a discontented noise, and the room spins around him. He’s caught between a need to get up, to find and soothe the source of the sound, and an arresting vertigo that steals the air from his lungs. The result is him flailing half way out of bed in a tangle of—silk? Two large, firm hands catch him around the shoulders. “Shidi, please, stay in bed. Everything will be alright. I’ve called for Mu Qingfang. A-Su is doing what she can. Just stay still.” Shen Yuan doesn’t recognize the latter name, but the former pings something in the back of his mind. He looks up blearily as those hands gently press him back into the mattress. The man leaning over him has a broad, handsome face that, combined with the dark eyes and gentle, worried crease to his brow, immediately puts Shen Yuan in mind of his older brothers. He allows this to be his excuse for folding right away, letting himself be manhandled back into bed even as half of his brain is clawing for him to move, to help. He looks over the man’s shoulder, searching for the source of the agonized screaming. It sounds like someone is being murdered. What he finds is a sight his mind can’t fully comprehend. There is a large dog in a corner of the room with its paw holding something down. The thing under its paw is a shifting mass, leaking strange golden dust. One moment there is fur, then feathers, then scales. It screams all the while. “What’s wrong with him?” Shen Yuan asks blankly. “I’m not sure,” the man says, “but we are going to fix it.” His eyes look sad. There is a little scrabbling noise, barely audible over the creature in the corner’s yelling. A fluffy white cat jumps onto the mattress and climbs up onto Shen Yuan’s chest. “Ah,” he says, and his hands instinctively come up around her. She must be what he accidentally flung away before. She makes a sleepy grumble and gets comfortable. Shen Yuan finds his energy and his ability to comprehend his surroundings fading rapidly, now that she is there, warm and solid in his arms. He bats away the human hand that reaches for his wrist absently. “Xiao Jiu, that—” The man next to the bed looks strangely horrified as he drifts off. Shen Yuan has no idea who he was talking to.

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three-atoms · 3 months

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"I'd have gone wherever you wanted" — I Still Remember, Bloc Party "Even though I know how it ends up, ain't nobody scared" — The Best Part of Life, SAINt JHN "When I'm with you, I am calm (I love you in the morning)" — Sunday, Bloc Party

Marisa + Asriel (His Dark Materials)

#his dark materials #masriel #hdmedit #hdmsource #romancegifs #hdm #asriel x marisa #asriel belacqua #marisa coulter #james mcavoy #ruth wilson #affair isle #song edit #eventually there will be a fic for the gif set #i made this instead of writing #not great at adding text to gifs #i just want to colour all the pretty things #she's learning #thanks to saltburn for throwing bloc party on the soundtrack

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chaosandwolves · 5 months

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I feel incredibly stupid

I just rewatched the golden compass movie and googled why there was never a part 2 and.... I just found out that the "His dark materials" series is exactly that story!???

WHY DID I NOT KNOW THIS????

Like I even read the first book but I never knew that's what the series is called

Omg wtf

WHY DID I NOT KNOW THIS???

On the bright side... Got a new series to watch... So I guess... Yay?

Edit:

Wait... James McAvoy stars in this???

Again....

WHY DID I NOT KNOW THIS?

#No for real I feel I feel so stupid #Like I've seen ppl talk about it #Seen tags and fics but I've never looked into it #Omg #his dark materials #the golden compass #I feel so stupid #james mcavoy #WHY DIDN'T I KNOW

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daemonismguide · 1 year

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Daemon Au guide

Daemon AUs were inspired by the book series His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman. You might have watched the movie The Golden Compass, or the tv show His Dark Materials. Pullman himself was inspired by the ancient greek practice of daemonism.

Daemon AUs got popularized in fanfic following the books, since they are essentially about talking animal familiars. Thinking of that, I decided to make this guide, to inspire new ideas for your fandoms and fics

Here's some trivia from the series, which you can pick and choose from at your own tastes when making your AUs.

- Daemons are the physical manifestation of a person's soul.

- A daemon's personality is influenced by their human's subconscience, and is often a balance of the human's personality. For exemple, someone more outgoing might have a daemon who is more shy.

- When you're kids, it changes forms between various animals. As you mature into adulthood, it settles on a single one and never changes again. The age can vary from individual, but it's a milestone of growing up.

- The species of the animal they settle as is a metaphor for their person's personality. You can make much symbolism about that.

- Daemons have more fantasy-sounding names that are very different from human names, and often have lots of meaning.

- The parent's daemons name the child's daemons.

- Daemons are usually the opposite gender as their human, but that is not a rule.

- Daemons can talk. Their main role is to talk to and advise their humans.

- Daemons will usually only talk to their humans or between other daemons, but it's not forbidden for a daemon to talk to another human.

- They are not actual animals, and therefore not driven by animal instincts, but they can have animal abilities like hearing, smelling, etc.

- Daemons can't be too far apart from their humans, they walk together at all times.

- When you hurt a daemon, it's human feels the same pain, and vice versa.

- When you kill a daemon, it's human also dies, and vice versa.

- It's the biggest taboo in the series to touch a daemon who is not your own - but sometimes the AUs adapt it to being lesser degrees of serious, or to mean a shared moment of deep intimacy. You can decide what it means for your AUs.

Attention: from here on, the list is heavily taken from the books' lore and worldbuilding, so it may contain spoilers.

- The HDM series has a multiverse that can be travelled across, and the world where people have daemons is only one of those universes.

- Characters from worlds without daemons will get their own if they travel to one who has.

- Daemons, are made of Dust - the most basic subatomic particles that also constitute the universes, and they grant sentience and drive to living beings. When when they die, the daemons scatter away into a pile of Dust.

- There is a ritual that makes it possible for people to walk apart from their daemons. In the series, the Witches do it as a tradition, even if it's described as being very emotionally painful. But then once it happens it's over, though.

- Another way to do it is separating from your daemon while a living person at the Land of the Dead - the dimension all people go when they die, and where daemons are not allowed.

- The ritual of separation is different than cutting off someone's daemon. In this case, the soul is separated from the body, rendering both human and daemon mindlessly traumatized, never able to be a full, complete being again.

#book stuff #daemonism #his dark materials #the golden compass #daemons #aus #tropes #fic ideas #au ideas #ideas #reference #fanfics #fandom #sfw #blorbos #blorbo from my shows

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fern-stone · 1 year

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You’re Where I Belong

Read on ao3

Lyra/Will, post-canon, reunion fic

2.5k, T Rated

At age 25, Lyra finds Will again.

#his dark materials #lyra x will #silverparry #lyrawill #hdm spoilers #bbc hdm #fanfiction #his dark materials fic

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why-is-it-always-autumn · 2 years

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His Dark Materials fusion fic featuring every element of the source material: witches, armored bears, needing to kill God, Protestants not existing, knife that lets you cut holes in reality, wheeled elephants, everything

Until and unless someone comments on it, the author does not mention or even allude to daemons in any way. When someone asks, they only say “lol, I completely forgot! Well, it’s too late to add them in now. Whoops!” They do not mention daemons again even in ANs or replies to comments for the entire remainder of the fic.

#His Dark Materials #fic concept #chaotic neutral

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i-was-bored-so-this-happened · 5 months

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Sanchez & Scoresby Chapter Two: Ma

Fandom: His Dark Materials Wordcount: 4.5k Warnings: Canon-typical violence, funeral

The Gyptians travel across the North in search of their missing children

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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“I’m cold, Lee.” Kit bites out, her shoulders shuddering.

“Hell, Kit, I can’t control the weather.” Lee replies, and Kit pulls a hand out of a pocket to hit his arm with. She sidesteps so that she bumps into Lee and stays there as she walks, hoping to leech some of his body heat. Eli, sitting on the balloon as it’s dragged along, curls into a tighter ball as Hester shuffles closer to him.

“I’m not cold.” Lyra interjects.

“We’re from Texas, kiddo, we ain’t made for the cold.”

“Isn’t the wind cold up in the sky?”

“That’s a dry cold, the wind. Down here, it’s damp cold.”

“Why aren’t you up in the balloon now?”

“Savin’ it for when it’s needed.” Lee answers.

“Wouldn’t it be useful to have a view of what’s ahead?” Lyra asks. Pan hops up onto the folded-up balloon to nose around Eli’s head.

“We have.” Lee points upwards. Serafina Pekkela’s daemon, Kaisa, has been following them since they left Trollesund. Lee’s free fingers close around Kit’s wrist, “A witch’s daemon is a better eye in the sky than I’ll ever be. A witch would be even better.”

“Drop it, Lee.” Kit mutters.

“Mr Scoresby-” Lyra starts.

“Call me Lee.”

“We’re going to win this one, aren’t we? We’re going to get those children back?”

“Well, if I was a bettin’ man, I’d say no. And I am a bettin’ man. If I was Kit, I’d say yes because she’s stubborn. And I can tell by your face that you want me to say yes, so...yes.”

“You’re not an easy man to like, you know that, Lee?”

“So people tell me. But Hester likes me, Kit likes me. That’s something.”

“Hester don’t count, she don’t have a choice.” Eli mumbles, earning a hard stare from the hare.

“Why do you travel together, Miss Sanchez?” Lyra asks.

“Kit.” Kit corrects her.

“Kit.”

“We grew up together, kiddo. We were next-door-neighbours and our fathers were friends. Either we got on or we’d end up murdering each other, and he isn’t dead yet.”

“Hell, Kit, you’re makin’ me blush.” Lee says, in the hope it’ll make Kit smile, and it does.

“We left home together, been flyin’ ever since.”

“Why did you leave?” Lyra asks, and in a second she knows this was the wrong question to ask. They stop smiling and they break apart. Kit shoves her hands back into her pockets and Eli jumps down from the balloon’s sled.

“I’m going to go see if there’s any bread floatin’ around.” She announces before marching forward, her daemon bounding after her. Lee shakes his head.

“You ask a lotta questions, Lyra. They’re not always good ones.” It’s all he says before he takes off after Kit. She hears Lyra call an apology before Lee catches up with her.

***

Lee, of course and exactly as Kit expects, disappears the moment he’s needed to help put tents up, leaving Kit with a contraption neither she nor her daemon have ever understood. She’s trying to palm the task off to someone else, reaching Ma Costa and her elder son at the same moment Lyra does. Ma’s younger son, Billy, is one of the children taken by the Gobblers.

“Tony, look after the food.” Ma tells her son so she can turn her full attention to Lyra.

“I’ll burn it.” Tony tells her.

“I don’t care.”

“I’ll watch it.” Kit offers, crouching beside Tony and shoving the tent pack at him, “If you put up my tent. Food for shelter.” She takes cooking utensils from Ma and pokes at whatever stew is in the pot while Tony, grumbling to his daemon, marches away with the tent. Seal stew, probably, Kit thinks. Iorek had caught one earlier that day to use the blubber for armour polish and the Gyptians are not a wasteful people. Another advantage of helping Ma now is that Kit will be able to hear what Lyra’s saying to her, what she’s planning. Too many things in the world are revolving around this little girl for Kit to ignore.

“What do you think might be in this village?” Ma Costa asks the young girl.

“I’m not sure, but it might be some sort of ghost, I think. Something awful has happened there.” Lyra’s trying to explain as best she can. How she knows this, Kit has no idea...she’ll have to ask Farder Coram. He’s more likely to answer than John Faa.

“Why’s this ghost important?” Ma asks.

“I don’t know, but it might be a vital clue. It might help me find Roger and Billy.” Billy, Ma’s son. Roger, a kitchen boy from Oxford Lyra had known all her life. She’d told Kit and Lee all about Roger before she’d started asking questions.

“You’re asking me to trust you over-”

“No. No, I’m not. I’m asking you to trust this.” Lyra pulls out an odd, flat box that looks like it might be made of gold. The glint of it catches Kit’s attention, and Eli’s eyes follow it. Kit can understand what Ma Costa is saying. Lyra’s asking her to go against the person she trusts most, her leader. How this little box would sway her…

“You ask a lot. I need to think.”

***

Night falls quickly in the North. Tony, bless him, had done a good job with the tent, setting it next to where Ma and Lyra would be sleeping. Kit and Lee lean against their tent, a donated blanket around their shoulders as they pass a tin bowl of stew to each other between spoonfuls. Eli is curled up on the snow between Kit’s feet, and she can feel the chill of it on her back. Ma Costa and Lyra are lying on their stomachs in the mouth of their tent, talking to Serafina Pekkela’s daemon Kaisa.

“D’you know what an alethiometer is, Lee?” Kit speaks slowly, watching the fire crackling between the tents.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Lyra’s got one. She talks about it, it’s what makes Coram and Faa trust her.” Kit explains. “Must be that little gold box she’s got…” Her voice trails off and her head tilts back a little.

“You’re thinkin’ too much, Kit. We’re here to get the kids, get paid and fly away.”

“I dunno, Lee. I gotta feelin’ about her. Lyra.”

“Like a premonition?”

“I don’t get premonitions, Lee.”

“Well, what kinda feeling?”

“There’s something about her. The Gyptians think she’s important. I think the witches do too.”

“The witches?” Lee asks as a weight tips onto his shoulder. Kit’s head.

“A witch wouldn’t send her daemon to tail us for days if we didn’t have something she wanted.”

“And you think that thing is Lyra?” Lee asks. He doesn’t get an answer. “Kit?” Her legs fall to the side, bumping into his. She’s fallen asleep. He lifts his hat off his head and places it over Kit’s face to prevent the light of the fire from waking her up and takes the empty tin bowl from her hand. When the aeronaut next looks at the fire, Ma Costa and Lyra have wriggled into their tent, as have many of the other Gyptians. Kaisa is still perched in the same place, his eyes fixed on the sleeping Kit.

***

The next day, as the Gyptians make their way up a snowless hill, the sky is a beautifully clear blue. Perfect flying weather. Lee and Kit are shouldering the balloon sled up the hill.

“Authority above, when are we gonna get a lunch?” Lee asks the clouds.

“You just had breakfast, Scoresby. Or did Lyra nick it again?”

“You’re a real comedian, you know that, Sanchez?”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Kit tells him.

“I’m just going to-”

“You’re just going to keep pushing the damn balloon, Lee Scoresby, you ain’t leavin’ me with it like you did yesterday.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“I knew your ma, that is a compliment.” Kit laughs. She watches Lyra, Lord Faa and Iorek talking as she and Lee pass with the balloon, but her gaze drifts past them to another well-respected Gyptian. “Eli, go and talk to Farder Coram, tell him I wanna speak with him when we make camp.”

“About that feeling?” Lee asks.

“Something like that.”

***

Kit takes perhaps a little too much pleasure in dropping the tent in Lee’s arms and marching towards Farder Coram. He smiles a little when he sees her, though there’s sadness in his eyes.

“What is it you wish to ask, child?”

“Lyra talks about an alethiometer. She says it’s what told her about this ghost in the fishing village. Thing is, Farder, I don’t rightly know what an alethiometer is and I’d like to find out.”

“I expected this. There were only ever six alethiometers made. The Magesterium has one, Lyra another. The whereabouts of the other four are unknown. An alethiometer is a truth-teller. There are...symbols around its circumference. You ask it a question and it answers using those symbols.”

“Then why is it so special that Lyra can understand it?”

“Alethiometers take a long time to understand, Miss Sanchez. Only a certain few can read them, and it takes years of study and isolation for the device to talk to them. Even then, hours are usually spent trying to decipher what the symbols mean. Lyra is special because she hasn’t done any of that study and she has no guide to it, but she can communicate with it perfectly.”

“I’m guessin’ no one’s ever done that before.” Kit pushes her hands into her pockets as her fingers grow icy again.

“You would be right to guess that.” Farder Coram nods.

“And that’s why y’all trust her so much.” Kit decides, “Why you’re letting her go to the village.”

“We can’t afford to turn all of the Gyptians around.”

“I understand, but she can’t go alone.”

“Iorek Byrnison is going with her.” Fard Coram is watching Kit expectantly, waiting for her judgement on this.

“Iorek’s the best protection she could have.” Kit nods, “We can hold until they return.”

“They’ll be leaving soon, I advise you say your goodbyes.” Farder Coram tells her, tapping his hat in farewell as he stamps through the snow away from her. From what Serafina Pekkela had told him the night before, Kit Sanchez was the next best thing to the armoured bear, though she hadn’t told him why.

Kit reaches Lyra and Iorek at the same time Lee does.

“What happened to the tent?” She asks, noting the ceramic mug in his hand.

“Tony’s doing it.”

“Tony did it yesterday!”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna miss this. Iorek’s first ride!” If Iorek could roll his eyes like a human, he would.

“I’m not heavy.” Lyra assures the bear.

“I’m not a horse.” Iorek counters. Lee is trying to disguise a laugh with his mug, but Iorek sees it.

“Kid, promise me this alethiometer thingy isn’t lying to you.” Lee says.

“It can’t. Tells the truth, don’t it, Lyra?” Kit cuts in, and Lyra nods.

“I trust it too.” Iorek agrees, outnumbering Lee’s doubts.

“Ghosts, I heard. You’re going to find a ghost?” He asks.

“Think so.” Lyra answers.

“Is that a sensible thing to do, look for ghosts?”

“I’ve never heard Lee Scoresby talk about being sensible before.” Iorek remarks, and this time it’s Kit that laughs. Lee laughs, but sarcastically, elbowing Kit.

“Kit?” Lyra asks, pulling the woman’s attention to her, “I’m sorry for asking questions.”

“Kiddo, you did nothing wrong, hear me? Ask as many questions as you like.” Kit pulls a yellow scarf from around her neck, “Now, you’re going to a fishing village. Be careful on the ice, I don’t want you fallin’ through.” Kit’s voice has hardened now. This isn’t just a suggestion. “And take this,” Kit hands her scarf to the girl, “Wrap it around your head. You’ll be able to see through it, but it’ll keep the cold and ice and stones out.”

“And don’t leave Iorek.” Lee adds, aiming a finger at Lyra, “There’s Tartars out there.”

“I will bring her back.” Iorek assures them, lifting a paw to help Lyra climb aboard. “I won’t be gentle.” He warns her.

“You two be good to each other, alright? Be careful.” Lee calls after them as Iorek pads away. Neither of them take their eyes off the bear. “You do like her, that was your favourite scarf. I got you that.”

“I’m not the only one going soft, Lee.” Kit points out quietly. Eli’s tail wraps around her ankle. Kit shakes her head. “Now, where is that sweater? I’ve been wearing it for three days but this morning it was gone…” Lee’s hand goes up to the back of his neck to try and hide the high neck of the jumper he’s wearing under his jacket, but Kit catches it, “Lee Scoresby, you-”

***

Kit pulls the sleeve of her newly-retrieved jumper over her hand to take a pot off the fire. It’s been a long, long time since she’s had eggs of any kind, and she’s rather looking forward to it.

“They’re just eggs, Kit. Boiled eggs.” Eli reminds her.

“Oh shush, you’re excited too.”

“Excited? Over eggs?”

“Yes, Eli, over eggs.” Kit tells him, pushing herself up to scoop the pair of eggs out of the pan. She drops them in the snow and rolls them around for a moment until they’re cool enough for her to pick up and chip away at. “I’m happy, I can be excited. I’m happy here. With Lee and Iorek and the Gyptians. And Lyra.” It sounds like she’s trying to justify something. There’s a niggling, familiar voice in the back of her head.

“It feels nice, don’t it? Having more than just Lee?”

“But that’s selfish…” The end of Kit’s sentence trails off. Eli lets the silence hang for a moment before he stretches out on the snow, wriggling contentedly.

“I like it here too, Kit. Ma is a good person. They’re all good people. Good pay, good food, a good cause and good people. You don’t have to feel bad for enjoying that.” Eli rolls over onto his back to stare up at the stars, but Kit has all but forgotten her boiled egg. The odd little fizzy feeling of excitement has dissipated. She feels guilty and Eli is trying to counteract that. Eli rolls back over, rubs his head into Kit’s hand. “Eat your eggs, Kit. Eggs are good too.”

Kit starts peeling at the shell of her egg again, her breath steaming in the cold air. Her nose feels like a marble of ice, and she shifts so that she sits on top of her feet. Around her, all the other Gyptians have settled down to their own dinners. She doesn’t know where Lee’s gone, and Lyra and Iorek are still gone. Kit is alone with her soul. Neither she or her daemon speak as Kit eats her hard-boiled eggs, but her eyes are burning with unshed tears.

Maybe an hour after Kit is finished eating, she’s still sitting in the same spot, her eyes still hot and stingy. Her eyes have been fixed on a distant tent for half an hour or more, but she doesn’t realise it. One of her feet has fallen asleep. The stumps where her right pinkie and left index fingers should be ache more than the rest of her, but she takes no notice. Takes no notice of anything until a new feeling washes over her. Something not unlike dread.

“Ma!” Kit is on her feet in a moment, stumbling towards where Ma Costa and Tony are huddled around their fire.

“Kit? Kit, have you been-”

“Is Lyra back yet?” Kit blurts.

“No, no, she-”

“Where’s Lord Faa? Where’s Kaisa?”

“Kit?” Hester’s voice. Hester. Relief for a brief moment, “Kit, what’s happened?” Hester asks, hopping closer to Eli. His ears are flat, his tail bushed out.

“Something’s wrong. I need to speak to Kaisa!” Kit yells the last part into the night, knowing that wherever the witch’s daemon is, he’ll hear her.

“Kit, what the hell-” Lee’s caught up with Hester.

“Something’s wrong. I don’t know, I don’t…” She can’t form the words. She hears the flap of wings. “Kaisa, tell me-”

“I feel it too, child.”

“Feel what, for star’s sake?” Lee demands as Ma rises to her feet.

“Something’s wrong, and it’s coming this way.”

A bird call pierces through the heavy, uncomfortable silence that had fallen, and all heads turn. Iorek is back. Lyra is back. And…

“Billy? Is that my Billy!” Ma’s already crying as a little boy who can’t be more than seven is helped down from Iorek’s back. “Where’s Ratter, where’s his daemon? Is that my Billy?” The boy wobbles when he’s set onto his feet. “Billy, where’s Ratter?” The boy falls as Kit’s heart drops. Billy Costa has no daemon.

Deafening silence fills Kit’s ears as Ma lifts her younger son, carries him into a tent. Her sobs are the only sound to be heard. Everyone else has been stuck dumb by the shock of it. Everyone but Lee. Lyra had tried to go after Ma and Tony, but he’d stopped her. Kit doesn’t hear what he says, doesn’t hear anything until Lyra speaks,

“He was...he was without his daemon. Like a ghost.” Lyra’s voice is brittle, as if she’s already been crying, “The alethiometer was right. It was like...like he wasn’t there. Like he couldn’t even hear me.” Lyra. Lyra is too young for this.

“This must be what they do, this is what they take.” Lee says. His voice is level, but Hester’s ears are quivering. Eli is standing stock-still, like his human.

“It’s horrible.” Lyra croaks out.

“It’s worse than death.” Kit says the words without thinking.

“Why would they take someone’s daemon?”

“It’s about control, isn’t it? Because if you can remove someone’s soul, you can do anything.” Lee explains, still calm while Kit’s shoulders are inching their way up to her ears, her hands balling into fists. That burning feeling behind her eyes is back. She doesn’t ever register Iorek shuffling away. “Hey. You did a brave thing, kid. A good thing. I am proud of you.” Lee tells her. This is what makes Kit turn. She crouches in front of Lyra, holding onto her hands.

“You did the right thing, Lyra. You found Billy. You will find Roger. Lee’s right to be proud of you. I am too. You did good. Now we’re going to get you into the tent and get you warmed up, alright?” Kit sniffs loudly, waits for Lyra to nod before she stands again. Kit keeps her hands on Lyra’s shoulder as she guides her away.

***

Lee doesn’t want to wake either of them up. Wishes he didn’t have to. Eli lies at Lyra’s feet, curled around stoat-formed Pan. He can’t see Lyra’s face, but Kit always looks at her most peaceful asleep. He knows that there are tear tracks on both of their faces. Kit had been near tears before Lyra had come back, but when Lee had asked why, all she’d said was, “Eggs.”

“Kit. Kit. C’mon, Kit.”

“I don’t want to.” Kit replies, her face screwing up.

“You gotta.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

Kit has never experienced a Gyptian funeral before, and she wishes she didn’t have to experience this one. Billy Costa had been seven years old. He didn’t stand a chance out there on his own. Lee and Kit stand, watching, waiting, as Lyra steps towards the pyre Billy’s little body has been laid on. Ma Costa watches the girl as she lifts the blanket, looks at the little boy’s face. Both of them stand as John Faa and Farder Coram approach them, Lyra turning to Ma to be held. Kit is close enough to hear the words exchanged between Lord Faa and Ma Costa.

“Now we know what terrible wickedness these people are capable of. Now we can see our duty plainer than ever. We have to fight.”

“We have to kill.”

Ma lets go of Lyra, who turns and shuffles slowly away from the pyre. When she reaches Kit and Lee, Kit’s arms are already open, pulling the girl close to her. At the touch, Lyra’s face crumples and everything she’d been holding onto since she had returned spills out in tears. Kit can’t remember the last time a child had hugged her, cried in front of her. Lyra can’t remember the last time she’d turned to an adult for this kind of comfort, this kind of release. Kit pulls her closer, her head bent over Lyra’s. She can feel her own scarf beneath her fingers, knows Eli is pushing himself against Lyra’s legs to support them.

“Ma’s right. Kill the buggers. They deserve it.” Kit’s words are harsh, her tone hard as her chin wobbles and tears spill over. Lee’s head rests against hers as his own arm goes around Lyra, a familiar gesture of comfort usually shared between himself and his daemon. The Gyptians have formed a semi-circle around the pyre, a semi-circle of solemn faces most likely holding back tears. Billy wasn’t just Ma’s son. He was a son to all of them.

After several minutes, Lyra breaks the little huddle to wipe angrily at her tears, as if she’s ashamed of them. She sandwiches herself in between Lee and Kit to watch Ma light the pyre as everyone pulls their hats off, the universal symbol of respect at a funeral. Ma breaks down into sobs, has to lean on Tony as all the Gyptians around Lee, Lyra and Kit start to hum the same tune. None of them know the words, so the three of them stand in silence. This is not how funerals are done in Texas. Lyra is as stiff as the snow around them, refusing to show the weakness she sees crying to be. Unbeknownst to her, the adults either side of her are doing the same thing.

No one moves until the fire dies. Lyra is almost dropping from exhausting, but she’s fighting sleep. Eli picks up stoat-formed Pan as gently as if he were his own kitten as Lee wraps an arm around Kit, resting a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. In the tent, Lyra sits between them. Hester hops to the mouth of the tent to keep some kind of watch. Lyra’s head falls onto Lee’s shoulder, and Kit’s hand goes to the girl’s hair. There’s silence for what feels like too long.

“Once upon a time, there was a man who lived on the moon.” Kit blurts. Lee frowns at her, confused, but Lyra doesn’t move. Kit repeats herself, “Once upon a time, there was a man who lived on the moon.”

“He didn’t always live on the moon. He used to live on Earth, but on Earth he had no family, no friends. He was lonely. And every night he would look up at the moon and think to himself, If I’m lonely down here, there must be people lonely up there. The man worked and worked and built a special blimp that he could sail through the clouds and past the stars to land on the moon…”

By the time Kit is halfway through the story, Lyra has slid down onto the floor, asleep. Kit keeps going, but falters at a certain point and looks to Lee, who had been watching her since Lyra fell asleep.

“Man on the moon. Not quite how Ma used to tell it.” He says after a moment.

“I couldn’t remember all the words.”

“You didn’t give it an ending.”

“We never stayed awake long enough for an ending.”

“True.” Lee hesitates before asking, “Since when did you like kids enough to tell ‘em bedtime stories?”

“Since when did you?” Kit counters pointedly, but then she takes her hand away from Lyra’s hair. “I know. This is just another job worth far more than the gold they’re givin’ us. It’s not like I’m getting attached or anything-”

“No. No, Kit, I don’t think it is.” Lee interrupts, and Kit frowns at him. “Whatever this is...it is so much bigger than us. I know we like to tease the Magesterium, but this...this is fightin’ ‘em head-on.”

“They deserve it, Lee. What they’re doin’,” Kit doesn’t want to have to say it again, “it ain’t right.”

“That’s true too.” Is all Lee says. Words aren’t really needed beyond that point. They’re thinking with the same mind. This is a fight they’ll see through to the end.

***

Lyra wakes up at the sound of Pan’s voice. Her eyes open to see Kit’s face. For the first time since she’d met her, Kit’s brow isn’t furrowed. She looks at peace, one of her hands reaching out over Lyra’s head. Lyra turns her head to see Lee still asleep too, though he’s wriggled halfway out of his blanket.

“I heard something, Lyra.” Pan reminds her. Whatever it was, it’s got him worked up. Lyra crawls out of the tent and pulls her hat on. She wanders towards where a tin teapot still dangles over a dead fire, but she doesn’t see anything. Pulling her gloves on, Lyra turns in a circle. At least, she starts to turn. She stops when she notices a man lying on the ground, and in an instant knows he’s dead. She registers some kind of noise behind her, but she can’t move. Something heavy slams into her head, and Lyra doesn’t know anything anymore.

A few hours later, the breeze through the still-open flap of the tent gets too cold for Kit to ignore anymore. Lee had pulled off her blanket and covered his head with it a while ago, and she’s been getting colder and colder since. She registers that Lyra is no longer lying in the space between herself and her friend, and mutters.

“Gee, Lyra, thanks for closin’ door after yourself.” Kit’s words come out fluffy, not fully formed. She reaches out, pulls the flap shut and tugs her blanket off Lee, shuffling closer to him in an effort to find more warmth. She’s in that odd limbo where her eyes are too heavy to keep open but she isn’t fully asleep when Eli sticks his head out under the now-closed flap of the tent.

“Kit!”

“Wha? Eli, ‘s too early.”

“There’re bodies.”

“Bodies?!” Kit sits up as she asks the question, but Eli’s already wiggled out of the tent. Kit can feel the cold of the snow on her feet. She pokes Lee’s shoulder. Eli comes back, a red glove in his mouth. Lyra’s glove. “No. Lee. Lee!”

“‘M asleep.”

“Lyra’s gone.”

“Huh?”

“Lyra’s gone. Eli says there are bodies outside.”

“Kit, what’re you-” Kit huffs and rips the tent open, crawling out into the snow without her outerlayers. Eli’s right. Directly across from their tent is a dead Gyptian man. Some other Gyptians are awake, crowding around the body. His wife is crying. The words Tartar and Gobbler are being thrown around. Kit reaches back and pulls at Lee’s foot.

“Lee, the Tartars found us.” She tells him. He uses her shoulder to pull himself upright, his face sticking out of the tent next to hers. A Gyptian sees them then, calls out to them,

“Where’s the girl?”

Kit knows the answer. It’s a terrible answer. But if the Tartars have been here...

“Bolvanger.”

#rae's writing #his dark materials #his dark materials fanfiction #his dark materials fic #rae's ocs #kit sanchez #lee scoresby #lyra silvertongue

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