Eyes fluttered open just before the dawn. Led by a reluctant head, upper torso half-turned to the window behind. The shades were fully drawn, but there was still no hint of light out, so Lyra returned to what could be described as a slumber — legs curled, sheets clutched, and dæmon petted.
It was the sound of creaking hinges and murmuring that woke Lyra up with a start. Shooting up in bed, she noticed the sliver of light and carefully slipped out of the sheets. Holding a hand out, Pantalaimon leaped on from his resting place on the pillow beside her.
With Pan perched on her shoulder, Lyra tiptoed to the door. Over the past few weeks, the pair found times like this where they both wished the dæmon had not settled just yet. Before, he would have become a miniscule creature and slipped through to properly see and listen in.
That ability lost, both were reduced to leaning against the door.
"Asleep all day," Lyra heard Mrs. Lonsdale say, but not to who. She heard another voice then quickly pressed her ear against the door, but was too late.
The Housekeeper spoke again, "Hasn't been faking. Out cold when I checked at noon."
Noon? Lyra thought to herself and looked at the window. Judging from the lack of light it could have been the very early morning... or night. Her calculating mind was stopped when she heard another voice. It was the Master.
"She was to have dinner with us today, but the Porter could not find her all day."
"Lyra's been like this for nearly two weeks," said a male voice that could not be immediately placed. "Odd not to see her.. rampaging about anymore. Does she no longer partake with that old crowd."
"They saw that she was back, but Lyra hasn't re-joined," Lonsdale answered.
Sighing to herself, Lyra thought she should just have "played" if it would have ceased this line of discussion. There were times when she wanted to, but other times she vehemently didn't. The end result was a paralysis of inaction.
Then a woman Lyra did not recognize spoke, "Anyways, she should be hanging out with girls more her age. Let's try again in the morning."
Murmurings of agreements were made and they clambered down the steps. Lyra stood leaning against the door for a while longer before making her way back to bed to sit down.
Reaching for something underneath her pillow, she first found the alethiometer and then the pocket watch. It was her father's.
A week or so ago Serafina Pekkala returned from the North with crates of her father's things from the house in Svalbard. The manservant Thorold, who was voyaging to Brytain by boat, had packed everything and imparted the witch with a note and inventory for Lyra.
It said that most of Lord Asriel's instruments were lost on the ice sheets, however there was still a handful of odds and ends. She could care less of them. They'd been responsible for taking Roger away afterall. She shuddered at that.
Despite seeing her father in such extreme lights, she still cherished the other objects. The journals she had skimmed through so far contained experimental theological concepts and copious other notes. She hoped there would be journals more personal in nature, but she had yet to fully sift through the entire collection, which also contained books on other experimental theology, history, and politics, as well as a fair share of fiction and religion.
Elsewhere, there were more practical things, like actually warm furs and boots that were obviously too large, but belonged to her father nonetheless. Survival equipment included cooking gear, navigation tools, and medicine, like tins of packed bloodmoss, as well as such things as knives and pistols.
Lyra did not take the latter out of its holster or even the crate, but did take one of the smaller knives and its sheath attached to a leather belt that had other pouches for her alethiometer. While too big for her waist, she found that she could wear it across her chest.
The servant had also found a stash of gold when packing. Nothing that he only took a few handfuls for his retirement from service, bagfuls were left.
However, of all the things, what she frequently returned to was the silver pocket watch. It was simple and surprisingly unadorned of decoration. Lyra thought of eventually engraving something in this inside cover. Opening it and checking the time confirmed her suspicion and lined up with was said at the door earlier.
She'd slept through the day. It's not like she'd planned to, but the sleep she did find was increasingly cherished. The past three weeks when she returned were hectic. Serafina Pekkala returned Lyra to Jordan and after making sure she was taken in, returned to her clan with a promise to visit Oxford very soon.
Lyra had tried to be cheerful, she truly did, but her resolve truly broke after a few days.
It was during supper at the high table of the dining hall. Throughout the prior week, she had recounted bits and pieces of what happened to the Master during meal time. However, during the last few days, this desire to recount had tapered of, with nobody quite pushing her to continue. Instead, she'd listen to bits and pieces of what had happened during her absence. She picked up that the previous government had fallen and older, wiser, and independent remnants were returning to steady it.
Playing with her food one of those evenings, a feeling of lost and emptiness overtook her and she excused herself. Ironic as it was in the midst of a crowded hall, murmuring with low talk.
Over the next few days, Lyra only found herself eating at the high table once or twice more, having turned to getting more of her meals directly from the kitchen and then finding somewhere else to eat. It was during one of these last meals in the dining hall that the Master gave her the key to the garden door.
She'd go there at night, with Pan taking the opportunity to scurry wild at great distances as there was no one to catch them. They'd stroll here and through greater Oxford in these hours, sleep having evaded them for she saw flashes just before sleep took her. It was the quiet that allowed her mind and memory to wander and inundate.
Anyways, it appeared that weariness did not conform to her initial bout of being cheerful and these walks initially tired her into sleep. But that wearing ability soon stopped and Lyra found herself going longer through the day with tiredness just in her periphery, as evidenced by weary eyelids, but never fully closing in, with her eyes just finding a way to stay open longer and longer.
She'd taken to long, exhausted days and the times when weariness took over she'd be grateful for the long stretches of slumber. She did not remember the forced period of sleep induced by her mother, but the experience of waking up felt similar.
However, the thrashing into awakedness was not after a long stretch, but rather after short hours.
It was violent and she found herself drenched in sweat. For the first few minutes, her eyelids remained heavy, where there were remnants of dried out tears radiating out.
Coming back into the moment, she looked at the small clock. Pan navigated to her lap and closed the lid. She adjusted to lay it flat against her leg, as her dæmon skillfully moved to wind the watch with his paws. Finding amusement from this action that Pan had taken to doing, she smiled and stoked his red and gold fur. Rising, she went to the drawers to get ready for the night, or rather her day.
After washing up in the basin, she got dressed. She was able to sling the belt containing the knife, alethiometer, pocket watch, keys, coins, and more diagonally across her chest. A simple coat would hide it all, with the arrangement being less inconspicuous than carrying a bag.
A reverie struck as she stepped into a simple dress. Lyra recalled her fierce indignation of Will suggesting trousers to blend into his Oxford. It was as if she was back in that department store in Cittàgazze, finding clothes to wear with a pocket for Pan to stow away while in Will's dæmon-less world.
The memory and the daylight of an ancient city was fresh in her mind. The moment assaulted her and she sat back down on the bed and tightly closed her eyes, face wincing at the rush of thoughts. Pan clambered up her back and curled around her neck, before Lyra laid down, with legs over the side of the bed.
"That was so long ago Pan," Lyra whispered as she reached up to stroke his fur.
"It wasn't really."
"This keeps happening. Sometimes they are happy memories..."
"But then it ends and you realize we won't be seeing them around the corner," Pan solemnly replied as he leaned his face into her petting hand, thinking of Kirjava. "You should get something to eat."
Lyra's eyes shot open and she silently tiptoed to the door, boots in hand as to not make noise as she descended down the many stairs.
Taking the long way around the quadrangle, she found herself at the Jordan kitchen just before midnight. She hesitated a second, before reaching for the eggs. It was a comfort after all. It also reminded her of how far she'd come. Dependent to independence.
At the early hours of the new day, Lyra returned to her room at the top of the staircase. She stuffed a book on the political system of Brytain, and several journals into a bag, as well as a naphtha lamp from a crate.
She exited the window to get onto the roof. Laying back against a spire, she lit the light and began sifting through, taking her own journal out to jot down the occasional note or interesting fact. Pan took this time to wander around, though returned every few minutes and sometimes would read over the page with her.
It was during these returns that Pan found Lyra dozing off. He slowly scurried to her lap and as gently as he could closed the book, though making note of the page number for her. He then lay his paws on her chest and licked her face to awaken her.
"You should sleep in a bed."
Lyra quietly agreed and packed everything up and descend down to her room. She brushed her teeth at the basin and hanged her outgoing attire. It was nearly dawn when she got into bed, having hidden her belt at the bottom most drawer of her chest, but not before removing the alethiometer and watch to under her pillow.
She sighed as she looked at the window and already saw faint whispers of light streaming in.