Your braids like a pattern
Love you to the moon and to Saturn
Love you to the moon and to Saturn
"Alright," Lyra says easily, shrugging into her heavy coat before following Noah out into the freezing rain. The Greenwing is deceptively still, save for the rain; if one doesn't look closely, it could almost be mistaken for just another day. But stepping into the snow means that ice crunches under her boots, the thin layer of precipitation having crusted atop the powder. Glancing around, Lyra notes the way ice has glazed tree limbs into icicles and shivers, even in all her layers.
Fortunately, it won't be as cold once she's shifted. Her shift comes quickly and easily, and after only a moment, she stands before Noah's polar bear as a Newfoundland dog. Her dark fur contrasts sharply against their surroundings; Noah is built much more for this region than she in terms of both color and size. Lyra admires the beauty of his shift even as she recognizes its brutality. As expected, she's much warmer now, though her breath curls white in the air as she pauses alongside Noah's bulk, waiting for him to lead the way.
Fortunately, it won't be as cold once she's shifted. Her shift comes quickly and easily, and after only a moment, she stands before Noah's polar bear as a Newfoundland dog. Her dark fur contrasts sharply against their surroundings; Noah is built much more for this region than she in terms of both color and size. Lyra admires the beauty of his shift even as she recognizes its brutality. As expected, she's much warmer now, though her breath curls white in the air as she pauses alongside Noah's bulk, waiting for him to lead the way.
Passed down like folk songs
The love lasts so long
The love lasts so long
Lyra
