AN// Hey guys, if you're wondering, this isn't some kind of continuation of the Golden Compass or something, I'm just usuing the idea of daemons and how they have they're own kinds of dimensions and such. So enjoy this version of a different Lyra story, and hope you love Seven and Damion just the same! :)
-StefieTime
Seven held her head high as she felt the sharp sting of the leather strap hitting her roughly on the hand, as tears began to peak at her ducts she pursed her lips holding back a cry of pain, but her daemon gave away her hurt by jerking and flinching at every hard whip of the belt. She just took money from her mother's purse and was being punished for her actions. But Seven, and Damian (her daemon) had plans of their own and let her brutal mother continue with her usual routine and took the pain in. She also despised how her own father was just sitting on his lawn chair with his pipe dangling on his lips as puffs of smoke formed out of his nostril's like a dragon breathing fire his pale blue eyes blank with no thought in mind as he stroked his lizard daemon continuously, it too staring into nothingness. And her step brother, Kyle, on the other hand was looking blandly at the fire, the shadows from the fireplace dancing around on his bored face and his bird daemon perched on his shoulder it's head tucked away under it's black feather's, Seven then tried to attempt to take her wounded hand back when her mother's own daemon hissed it's vicious viper fangs threatening her to stay in place, it was just as dangerous as her mother's discipline.
Seven finally cried out as she felt a trickle of blood slither down her hand and settle on her wrist, she rubbed the sore-red spot continuously hoping it would soothe it, examing it a bit closer she saw that the blows her orphan mother made might have even broken one of the bones in her hand, for this hasn't been the first time she'd taken money out from her spoiled parents. Seven needed the money for her own reasons, but at first she wasn't sure about it until now, since nowis the last straw between her and her family. She looked back up at her elderly mother who's face was like bark of a tree. Rough, dented, and wrinkled with age, but it was also was because she was frowning at her, creasing her face even more. Not really noticing or caring about her own daughter's hand she yelled at her through a rage.
"Go bed!" She said with a hoarse Russian ascent. Seven's face was fixed as a glare almost imitating her mothers, and held Damian as a rabbit close to her breast while she walked up the wooden aged steps and down the hall towards the attic, and otherwise her involuntary room.
She slammed the door and jumped onto her bed laying face down while Damian lay close to her as his rabbit form sniffing her head and comforting her with little squeeks. She began to sobb hysterically into her pillow and gripped it with tremendous strength until her anger faded a little and she was able to tame her tears. She lifted up her head and looked at Damian, now a little black dog who was licking away her tears and rubbing his head on her cheeks. She broke into a smile as he lied down beside her his small tail wagging in response. She faced him and looked at him for a while, an idea forming in her head rapidly.
"Damian?"
"Yes?" Damian's dark head shifted up as he looked, up at Seven's pondering face, he had always feared that expression but proceeded to answer. Seven slipped her hands behind her head and looked up to the low ceiling right beside her narrow window, "do you think we should run away?" Damian paused for moment, not to think but in shock. He looked at her with such disdain and then shook his head.
"We don't know where we would go anyways but you have to think about it, that lady in there- she's your mother! You can't just run away, she'll be heart broken if you do and then she'll call the police to find you and then this will become a huge fuss that never really need to happen in the first place," Seven pressed her bright soaked hazel eyes together, almost as if Damian's words were just as harsh as her mother's strikes to the skin. But fury got to her heart before her brain and she almost pounced on Damian herself, but stumbled clumsily on the ragged cover and lay down looking at her daemon's patient face, his golden eyes piercing and wise. But her anger still peeked as she got off the bed and onto the dusty reaching under the bed for something she took out regularly when it was late. Her hands came across a pretty shabby photo album with a hand made red bow crested at the corner of the cover. She placed it on her bed and opened it to a specific page where grey faces dominated. Seven pointed her finger to a black and white picture of a smiling couple holding a baby between their arms, and the held it firmly in her hands.
"That lady out there," she bit her lip as she felt she was going to burst with emotion again, "is not my mother, my family was killed by someone, and then I was shipped to England to live with these people, I don't qualify them as family, ever." She was very clear to Damian, who was now a chinchilla. He twitched his whiskers once or twice in thought, remembering the day when they met the Turner's, and how their current family didn't welcome them as warmly as they thought, since they all came from Russia themselves, they were harsh people and left the weak behind. He shivered as he remembered their stories of war and gore when it was family time, it always gave them nightmares about what they did to the other people, and even their own comrades weren't safe from the man they call father, but their true family loved them, and how they longed for that kind of love they wished for since Seven was just a small child and when their parents weren't at their passing.
But this couldn't have been their happy ending the people at the orphanage told them they were going to get. He felt the same sensation of emotion clog his throat as he couldn't respond butcould only waddle over to the pictures and look at the lost memories in silence. And in that moment, they cried together, but also made their decision all in that one minute. Once they wiped their wet faces Damian seemed to gather himself together first and flicked his tail, his determination brewing in his heart.
"But we should better go to bed, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow when we leave." Seven sniffed and nodded, still kneeling on the ground and her upper body sprawled out over the photos, almost as if she were hugging it to herself, then she got up stiffly and then grunted as she pied one of the other cuts she gained as punishment from her mother, and then she bent over and forgot about the bruise she gained last Monday from her on her ankle.
"If I can make it out the door..." She heaved herself back onto the bed and then collected her old memories and shoved them into the photo album to clean up when she opens it again, but otherwise she placed it back under her bed snugly with her camera and reached for the flickering old lamp that stood on her lousy night table and flicked it off, and she went out like the light herself.
The next morning Seven's own senses woke her up, adrenaline was already pumping through her veins even before she stepped foot off of her bed, she immediately threw off the covers and almost threw Damian across the room in the process, but with his good reflects he shifted into a fly and hovered back over to her bed side and waited for Seven to settle her excitement so they could talk. She zipped around the room almost as form of a blur gathering clothes, hiding the evidence of it, packing the most important things to her, but poor Damian was still trying to get her attention by buzzing around her head and getting in her sight, but nothing really seemed to pull her out of her packing frenzy, and finally the room seemed almost deserted and her bag approximately weighed eighty pounds.
Damian changed into an owl and watched her as she attempted to throw it across her back, he shot her glances of warnings to keep her silent for everyone was still asleep. But she lost her balance and landed on her attic room floor with a deafing thud. Damian flew up to the cieling with shock as feahers flew off his body in a mad rush of panick went through him. Once Seven realized wht she did she knew they had to leave right then. Downstars there were creaks of tired springs on old matresses creaking as someone; probably her mother got out of bed and stomped their way towards her room. More silent and less happy, she put things back that she judged quickly upon and it felt twenty pounds lighter on her shoulders as she opened her narrow window and made her ecape, lifting her sore legs over the edge and making her way down on rickety tiles and bricks.
But everything froze, even time. Seven felt something grip her hand with tremendous strength, as it's sharps fingers pierced into her skin. She shot her eyes up to see her mother looking down upon her, fury seeping through her maddening glare, but then her face untenced a bit as it looked like she had an idea and smiled. Seven screamed in horror as her mother's grip turned into a toss , and she fell to the ground. Boom.
