(Untitled)

[lyra_silver]

Lyra Silvertongue and her daemon Pantalaimon have been busy since university let out for the summer. In May and June they worked in Bodley's Library, looking for information about the makings of the alethiometer, and then in July the Costas came and invited Lyra and Pan to travel with them for a month

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[subtle_will]

"D'you think they're back yet?"

Kirjava has been pacing, twining herself around Will's ankles, and he watches her with fond eyes. "Maybe. We'll see them when they come, though. You know that."

Lyra's been gone for a couple of months now, and it has been a long summer without her, but he's been busy, too. Work with Mary Malone and her research let him trace the patterns of Dust in the world, and he'd been entranced by the skeleton she'd had, fascinated by the swirls of golden light around it. "Lyra said they'd be back around now. Just be patient, Kirjava."

But he can't help looking over the crowded bar, reshouldering his satchel as he does so, with a face full of hope.

That bright head is so easy to spot.

[lyra_silver]

So is that dark head, especially when Lyra and Pantalaimon have both been looking for it all evening. Lyra makes a quick apology to the person she's talking to and stands at once. She tries to walk slowly, so she can watch Will from a little distance, but soon she loses patience and begins running to him. By the time Lyra reaches Will, Pantalaimon has already curled himself up next to Kirjava, just a little bit away from Will's feet.

"Oh, we've missed you," Lyra says, out of breath, as she opens her arms for Will.

[subtle_will]

Lyra's exuberance--that's what he's missed. And her smile, and her hair, and the feel of her body against his, and the smell of her skin, and--

He grins, a flash over his normally solemn face, and she folds into him and he into her. "You're back! We've been waiting for you."

She's a little pink in the cheeks from sun, but it could also be excitement, and he leans down to kiss the rosy color. "We missed you, too."

[lyra_silver]

Laughing a little, Lyra touches the spot on her cheek that Will kissed, and twists around to kiss his cheek in return. "But I can tell you all about Paris, and the sea, and all the wonderful things between Oxford and the near end of the Magyar Republic, now. What did you do while we were away?"

[second_sighted]

Benny, who has been sitting by the door, flopped against Jordan, looks up and barks.

Twice.

Jordan looks up, too, hair tousled and face red from exertion and laughter.

"Hi!"

This other girl has a pet, too! Jordan likes animals.

[lyra_silver]

Lyra looks down at the child and her dog, her smile softening. "Hello," she says. "My name is Lyra, and this is my friend Pan."

Is he her daemon? she thinks to Pan. I don't think so, replies Pan.

[second_sighted]

"I'm Jordan."

Benny barks again.

"And this is Benny. He's my dog. And my friend! What's Pan?"

He doesn't look like any animals she knows.

[lyra_silver]

"Pan is my daemon," explains Lyra, bending her knees so that she slides down to a sitting position across from Jordan. "That means he's part of me and I'm part of him. He's shaped like an animal called a pine marten."

[panser_bjorn]

The massive form of the Panserbjorn pads into Milliways from the back door leading to the lake and the forests around it. He doesn't see Lyra yet, and maybe he wouldn't recognize her if he did, but he? He is as unmistakable as ever. A hulking mountain of powerful muscle, and pale white fur, and black sky-metal, the feeling of violence only slightly reined in wafting off him like a scent.

[lyra_silver]

The woman laughing and running towards the bear might not be familiar at all. Lyra's eighteen now, with a woman's curves and confidence, and despite some smudges on her tartan skirt from climbing over the fence of the Botanic Gardens, she's much cleaner than she used to be. Pantalaimon, trotting a little behind Lyra, no longer flickers from shape to shape; he's set in the form of the pine marten.

"Iorek," Lyra says, delighted. "You found it!"

[ooc: Slowtime will be necessary, but I'm glad to see your tag.]

[panser_bjorn]

It may take a moment for him to recognize her, but you can't trick a bear, remember? And thus there is a gleam of recognition in the black eyes deeply hidden within the helmet's slits.

"Lyra Silvertongue." He reaches out and places one immense forepaw on her head, just like he did when they parted on the brink of that high ledge of ice and snow as she chased after her father. "I'm glad that you survived." And though his voice is as flat as it always has been, devoid of human intonation or emotion, the eyes under the sky-iron gleam.

Then he remembers what Belar told him, and how Serafina Pekkala didn't want to tell him about what was still to come for him, and his head tilts slowly. "Unless..."

[lyra_silver]

Lyra raises her hands over her head to touch Iorek's forepaw and feel the softness of his fur. "Survived? Iorek, you know what good sailors the gyptians are! of course I sur--" She stops mid-sentence, because Pantalaimon is shaking his head back and forth.

"No, Lyra, listen," says Pan. "That's not what he's asking."

Lyra grips Iorek's paw tighter as she thinks. Then she says, very quietly, "Oh, Iorek. What was the last thing that happened before you came to Milliways?"