Something shifts in the tone of the room, and Lyra finds her gaze drifting over to Noah. He looks serious now in a way that suggests a deeper meaning. There's something, she realizes, that drives him to protect, to take his natural instincts to shelter and care for others so seriously. Sometimes it's easy to forget that this man used to be a demigod, and is used to carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She may not know what it is that has caused this sudden gravity, but she bites her lip and looks away, fighting the urge to lay a hand on his arm, wanting to offer comfort in the only way she knows how.
"It's admirable, to want to keep everyone safe," she says finally, tracing a finger over the handle of a hatchet laid out on the table. Then her blue eyes life to his, something quietly determined in her gaze. "But just because people come with you out on the tundra, that doesn't make their fate solely your responsibility. Everyone should know the dangers and be willing to accept them before they step out on the ice." Easier said than done, of course, but she doesn't want Noah to carry the responsibility for their party alone.
"It's admirable, to want to keep everyone safe," she says finally, tracing a finger over the handle of a hatchet laid out on the table. Then her blue eyes life to his, something quietly determined in her gaze. "But just because people come with you out on the tundra, that doesn't make their fate solely your responsibility. Everyone should know the dangers and be willing to accept them before they step out on the ice." Easier said than done, of course, but she doesn't want Noah to carry the responsibility for their party alone.
lyra
Who could ever leave me darling... but who could stay?
