“At one point he seemed to be showing the moon to Lyra, pointing up at it and holding her so she could see, or perhaps he was showing Lyra to the moon”
Lord Asriel arrived too late to stop the bomb. Its shockwave set the intention craft swinging in midair like a pendulum, and he clutched the controls tightly, not allowing himself to hope. Stelmaria, in the seat beside him, peered into the chaos, her predator’s eyes piercing the chalky toxic smoke, the whirl of witches moving in to attack. With the control rod in her mouth she couldn’t speak, but if she saw something, Lord Asriel would have known—her heart would have leapt in both their chests.
He landed the craft and moved closer on foot to investigate the wreckage of the power plant. The coal-spirit fumes hurt his eyes, and he swore the reek of piety hung in the air. There were cries of hurt or panic coming from somewhere, but roar of the nearby cataracts deadened the sound.
Hope arrived unbidden. It did not leap. It trickled, soft and dreadful, like a crack in an old dam. Stelmaria lifted the monkey, skinny and drenched and limp, in her terrible jaws. A moment later, they found Marisa among the debris, with an expression of passionate determination frozen on her unconscious face. He gathered her in his arms.
Her eyelids fluttered, a little moan came from her lips, and her breath was sweet to him in this awful place. Through the stink of sweaty furs—did this organization so obsessed with the eradication of filth not even allow their prisoners to wash?—he recognized the familiar scent of her perfume. One grubby hand, nails torn, reached weakly up, and clutched at the lapel of his greatcoat. He squinted, trying to clear his stinging eyes.
Until it was replaced by relief, Lord Asriel had not known he was afraid. When he felt it pierce him, weakening the stout edifice inside, threatening to crumble his resolve, he almost wished that he had found her dead.
His Dark Materials fan week 2021, day 4: A favourite moment in The Amber Spyglass (Asriel rescues Marisa at St.-Jean-les-Eaux)
Every couple years I go through a big ‘His dark materials’ phase and I draw all the characters all over again so here have a Winston Duke-inspired Lord Asriel and Julianna Margulies as Mrs. Coulter
on fathers ; things i’ve collected here, and other places on the internet
topaz winters, war story with my father // sylvia plath, the unabridged journals of sylvia plath // fatherland, eloise robinson // mary ruefle, trances of the blast // interstellar (2014) // unknown(?)/still searching // bruce springsteen - my fathers house (springsteen on broadway) // my father’s fields, dan gerber // parasite (2019) // my fathers funeral, frank ormsby
