And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear
Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?
Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?
Lyra follows the line of Zavien's arm as he points to a nearby hill. Fortunately, she hasn't gotten hopelessly lost in her wandering thus far, if the town is just over that way. But before the man can finish saying whatever it is he means to say, a shriek cuts through the rain, the wailing, moaning cacophony making Lyra's hair stand on end. Frowning at the sky, Lyra shivers. Not her favorite thing, that's for sure.
Once the sound dissipates, Zavien continues, though to Lyra's untrained eye, he looks a bit nervous. She wonders if it's the rain or the subject matter of their conversation. "Don't worry," she says, taking the advice seriously. "I don't plan to wander without a map and a little less rain. Certainly not with all this screaming nonsense." Pursing her lips, she tilted her head to one side. "Although, that does sound eerily similar to the story of the old lighthouse caretaker in Torchline..." She wonders if there's any truth to the rumors, or if the story has simply morphed through the tellings until it is unrecognizable from place to place.
Once the sound dissipates, Zavien continues, though to Lyra's untrained eye, he looks a bit nervous. She wonders if it's the rain or the subject matter of their conversation. "Don't worry," she says, taking the advice seriously. "I don't plan to wander without a map and a little less rain. Certainly not with all this screaming nonsense." Pursing her lips, she tilted her head to one side. "Although, that does sound eerily similar to the story of the old lighthouse caretaker in Torchline..." She wonders if there's any truth to the rumors, or if the story has simply morphed through the tellings until it is unrecognizable from place to place.
