Lyra grabs her own drink as she and Noah find the water station. She makes her way to a chair and waits for the man to join her, sipping idly at her drink as she gives him a moment. When he finds the seat next to hers, he seems less tense, and she laughs at his comment. "I'd say anything would be a brave first experience," she says drily. "I may not have been to many festivals, but I've heard stories. Like that Blood Moon Festival in the Grounds? Wild." This one may be chaotic, but at least it's controlled chaos. That one? It sounds like absolute absurdity to Lyra.
The shade is fractionally cooler than being in the sun or near the fire, but only just. Sweat drips down the back of her neck, and Lyra sets her drink aside to tuck a few tendrils of hair back into place in the messy bun atop her head. "Would it be in poor taste to ask what your favorite festival has been, even though this one is still going?" she asks with a mischievous smile. "Or shall we save that topic for another time?"
The shade is fractionally cooler than being in the sun or near the fire, but only just. Sweat drips down the back of her neck, and Lyra sets her drink aside to tuck a few tendrils of hair back into place in the messy bun atop her head. "Would it be in poor taste to ask what your favorite festival has been, even though this one is still going?" she asks with a mischievous smile. "Or shall we save that topic for another time?"
Lyra
spent my whole life trying to put it into words
