Bewildered is probably a good descriptor for Lyra at present, but she manages to gather herself all the same. Looking around, she notes more mud dotted here and there, and with a sigh she nods to Melita. "Sure. I'll do my best. Don't have much to work with, though." Other than good, old-fashioned elbow grease.
Making her way over to the now-frozen chunk of ice, Lyra does her best to lift it and deposit it into the nearby river. Perhaps it will drown, and though the thought makes Lyra vaguely uncomfortable (is memory mud alive? Is she killing an innocent creature that doesn't know any better?), she continues on in this manner, following along with Melita and helping to dispose of the memory mud along the way.
fin
Making her way over to the now-frozen chunk of ice, Lyra does her best to lift it and deposit it into the nearby river. Perhaps it will drown, and though the thought makes Lyra vaguely uncomfortable (is memory mud alive? Is she killing an innocent creature that doesn't know any better?), she continues on in this manner, following along with Melita and helping to dispose of the memory mud along the way.
fin
Lyra
spent my whole life trying to put it into words
