Mama loves you.
Marisa - harder than most mothers, it's safe to say - often heard the words spoken with unbearable softness. Not in her family, but the words danced in the streets, touching her ears like a melody. Mama loves you. Everything's alright, child. Mama loves you.
She remembers wanting to say the magic words more than anything in the world. The golden daemon never blinked, never moved, just sat beside her. Mesmerized, he never, not even for a moment, looked away from little Lyra and her soul companion as though if he did, they might have disappeared. As though his eyes were the only thing keeping them in existance. He knew then, Marisa thinks. He knew she wouldn't say it. She wouldn't dare.
She remembers words dissolving quicker than a thin layer of ice on a tongue. She remembers being hopelessly, cruelly mute.
Some things should live in minds only, is appears. In beautiful what-ifs, and never on the lips. They give the vow of silence, and Marisa's soul never utters another words as if none would be good enough. Fine, she decides. Silence it is.
Until.
Until.
Twelve years pass before Marisa sees her child. She is armed to the teeth, oozing danger with a metal-scented touch, stunning in a way nobody dares to confront, fully prepared - and the girl, the girl wears raggedy clothes and hardly knows what soap is. She bites nails. She stuffs food in her mouth. She's got a scar on her forehead and exactly three random, unevenly placed moles on her left cheek. That little monster attacks Marisa's heart like a bloodthirsty Tartar. She's got hugs instead of rifles. Marisa would have preferred the rifles. Blades. Anything. Lyra is running about with a string tied around her mother's throat. She's a wind-borne kite. Every time the girl throughtlessly gets too far, Marisa feels her lungs being yanked out of the chest.
Words return. Words seize her, rattle through her to the point where she cannot bear silence any longer, and the only thing stopping Marisa from saying them is not having enough breath. That, and the impossible task of saying words you never learned to say.
So she finds other words.
Blue is quite your color.
Mama loves you.
I think you can be extraordinary.
Mama loves you.
I'm only trying to protect you.
It starts spilling in every conversation. It's everything she's able to say after twelve years of silence. My place is with her. I want her with everything I have. If you find her, please keep her safe.
Mama loves you, loves you.
Lyra grows up having never, ever heard those words.
Her mother is hopelessly, cruelly late for saying them. It doesn't stop her from living them till the last breath.
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Season 3 has been a wild ride so far and we are all just holding on for dear life.
His dark materials - my gifs + text posts
@arduennas @casualavocados @luminous-faerie @mxrisacoulter
@alrightsnaps @nonasbirthday
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It was such an unexpected remark that he blinked. His dæmon uttered the softest possible growl at the back of her throat. He said nothing.
Midnight, The Amber Spyglass
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the face everyone makes whenever is mentioned that lyra was with marisa was killing me, i don't know which one was the funniest, will, father mcphail or lord asriel
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