takes place after the amber spyglass. drabble. disclaimer: i do not own 'his dark materials'
tonight's the night the world begins again
Lyra talks to him like he's still there.
And even though they're separated by a thin sheet of Dust- a technicolor film that divides her world and his, she's comforted by the thought that he's sitting on the same bench, his tousled dark hair mussed by the same breeze.
She has no regrets. She's accepted that they cannot be together- not in the physical sense, at least- but it's not a problem. Because she's just patiently waiting for the day that their souls and daemons will dissolve and become one with nature, and then they'll truly be together. Forever.
She's never felt envy toward the couples she sees around Oxford because she knows that she and Will are not like normal people, they're something else. Something more. The way their fingers, clumsy and inexperienced tangle together and lips massage, tanned skin against pale, the epitome of that innocent, pure love that was destined to remain part of their complex past.
At times, her heart feels like her chest can barely contain it, and she's almost blinded by the illumination of their connection, a love undefined by time, space, or even worlds, though the physical bond has been destroyed.
As golden sunlight pours over the lush emerald leaves, drenching the garden in a saffron twilight, she sits on the bench, imagining his calloused fingers entwined with her own and whispers that she misses him, that she loves him, that she'll wait for him, forever.
A gentle zephyr wisps through the trees and she feels like she's drowning in an ineffable sense of serenity. And as the burnt gold sun dips into the horizon, and darkness prevails, she swears she hears him whisper that he loves her too.