#𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗦: // matter and spirit are one

[byeloveyou]

verse summary: his dark materials

a female scholar is something the magisterium will never be willing to accept: never mind a female genius rumoured to not even have a dæmon...

she's the kind of person they'd much rather not be real at all. her work is spent in solitude, published under male names just like her mother was once told to, genetics && dust a fascinating combination regardless of religion or philosophies.

if occasionally there's a flash of colour - a quick and little fluttering from her sleeve to a high up spot - well, maeve prefers not to discuss why her very soul has never uttered a word to her. instead she lives for her work, no time left outside of it for much more than a trail of failed attempts to be maeve as well as doctor donovan.

DÆMON: a mute hummingbird called lorcan (they/them). because of their small size and obvious vulnerability, maeve often lets people assume she doesn't have one at all for her own protection. since her biggest weakness is her heart her dæmon is equally delicate, the biggest danger to her safety being when she lets her guard down. so most of the time the little thing hides in her sleeve, in her collar, in her hair. never more than a flicker of orange people won’t get to focus on. like any tiny bird, they have speed and intelligence on their side but there's nothing 'brute force' about maeve.

[doctordonovan]

❀    ||      maeve && her dæmon ( his dark materials )

in her his dark materials verse, maeve is rumoured not to even have a dæmon. it’s never seen, she always seems to be alone. but actually since her biggest weakness is her heart her daemon is equally vulnerable: the biggest danger to her safety is when she lets her guard down. so most of the time the little thing hides in her sleeve, in her collar, in her hair. no more than a flicker of orange people won’t get to see. it has speed and intelligence on its side but is not a ‘brute force’ kind of animal.

when maeve trusts someone, it will slowly slowly start emerging more, until it may just rest upon the other person’s daemon. if maeve loves someone, that’s the only time her daemon will be heard making any noise in their presence.

lorcan settled when she was young - far, far too young to have a settled dæmon. in truth, nobody is even sure when it settled, but despite appearances maeve is very tuned in with lorcan no matter how often she ignores the side of herself dæmon represents.

[lookedinfinite]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // tag dump: verses (2)

𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗘: //  I’ll be there to fall into the dark

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗥𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘: //  I have to reinvent myself again

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦: //  i don't wanna know who i am

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗡𝗦: //  remember that all worlds draw to an end

𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥: // a very ordinary individual after all

𝗢𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗨𝗣𝗢𝗡 𝗔 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘: //  train your soul to remember

𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗦: //  matter and spirit are one

𝗨𝗡𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗙𝗜𝗘𝗗 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘: // is imagination the mother of truth

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃: // hearken to the voice of our prayer

𝐆𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘: //  as the world caves in

𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬: // the ghost in me was true

𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗭 𝐔𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗧𝗬: // starts with some pretty words

𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝐃: // so good til it kinda hurts

𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟗: // what if it’s not like they said it would be?

[phdiism]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // tag dump: verses (2)

[doctordonovan]

it was meant to be the most natural of bonds: the strongest, purest kind  -  between a person and their dæmon, a person and the truest representation of themselves. as a child she'd longed for lorcan to be... well, truly, anything but themselves. to be willing to speak as she had been forced to learn to, to be less constantly vulnerable to others. yet lorcan had settled far too young, too little to ever stand a chance if caught. her existence was one of watching && learning, of knowing when to move.

❝ letting people in is a skill I've never been very good at. ❞ if maeve wanted honesty from girl, she had to be willing to offer it herself, even if the light that ended up upon her was far from a flattering thing.  ( she did not like it, being known, because of experience instead of choice. )

people came and went, or if they didn't, maeve always found a reason to be gone first. ❝ lorcan and I are both...  bad at finding words. ❞

it did make sense and lyra confirmed as such with a light nod of her head. it would be difficult, and pan hated it whenever lyra even thought about everything that they had been through. she could often feel his anger. but perhaps they both needed to feel it all. and perhaps talking about it even with people who might not ever entirely understand would be beneficial to them both.

❝ you don’t have to be alone with the weight of yours either, ❞ lyra said with a light shake of her head. it had never escaped the child’s notice how far maeve’s daemon could go from her and that was something lyra related to now herself. 

❝ d’you have people who understand? or who at least listen?❞

[doctordonovan]

❝ I have been through hell and come out singing. ❞

it's a sentiment she understands, an experience maeve cannot pretend that she is a stranger to.  such a thing is likely all too obvious in the way warm brown eyes move from him, from the bloodied water from helping deal with the cuts that litter him, to where hester tends to own hurt. ❝ that's the thing about hell. you never really know when you're actually through it. ❞ 

experience was a cruel teacher, yet her worry about @aercnaut's state is hardly hidden from her features. ❝ I'm not going to press about what happened, ❞ she begins instead - vaguely aware of small flutterings as lorcan darts from within her baggy sleeves to some distant corner of room. ❝ but please at least tell me it was for a good reason. ❞

[doctordonovan]

❝ i thought you’d like some company. ❞

it's always a careful choice:   female scholar keeping herself away from too many eyes,  from too much attention.  she's as brilliant thing as she is simply quiet   -  happy to allow world to assume what they wish when imagining her.  dæmon is easily assumable as missing  -   no more than the briefest flutter high above,  in the very top library's shelves,  a blur of orange between ancient books.   it's so rare for her to be in town,  yet research has called for it enough that brown eyes barely leave the book gentle fingers pull from shelf nearest to her.

she has encountered @asrielbelacquaaaa enough she recognises the sound of six feet in their approach.   yet voice remains light,  ❝ because I'm known for being social? ❞   she jokes instead,  giving other another quick glance.  ❝ then again,  I'm here so rarely,  I might get lost amongst all these walls. ❞

[doctordonovan]

she is,  as always,  simply as she is:  for better or for worse.    ❝ a virgo? how positively dreadful. ❞   mock disdain comes with clear amusement  -   for a moment looking far more her age than usual hesitant observation may imply.  her eyes have never quite matched her features:  too sharp,  too experienced.

 somewhere above them,  lorcan studies hare in return,  distant yet careful to never show too much of themselves when clever little eyes keep on watching. 

❝ not much of a hand shaker I'm afraid. ❞   it's a quirk like any other,  as much an apology as it comes out a simple observation. yet little smile is warm enough to hopefully make up for the nicety she cannot return,   shrugging long brown hair from shoulder and uttering a thanks when glass of water is placed near her.    ❝ I do love a natural habitat,  it makes it so much easier to work out what suppositions are founded in truth and which are nothing more than slander. ❞

sometimes it's best to avoid the truth with simple other truths.  ❝ and you?  stopping on your way somewhere or is this the destination you had in mind? just so I know where to file you in my notes. ❞

   her  dry  tone  brings  a  grin  to  his  features.

   “ well,  scholar  and  a scorpio,  i’m  an  aeronut  and  a  virgo, “  his  grin broadens,  “ hope  you  know  what  the  hell  that  means  ‘cuz  i  sure  don’t. “

   her  daemon  is … around?  the  comment  has  the  texan  quirking  a  brow,  eyes  quickly  scanning  for  a  daemon  without  a  human.  he  wonders  what  he  looks  like  –  a  bird,  most  likely.  smart  people  usually  had  birds.  hester  is  looking  around  as  well  before  her  golden  eyes  fixate  on  something  he  can’t  see.  assuming  she  found  him,  lee turns  back  to  the  woman,  sipping  his  water.

   “ nice  t’meetcha,  maeve  donovan, “  he  offers  her  his  hand  to  shake,  “ so  what  business  does  a  scholar  have  at  a  dive  like  this?  studyin’  deadbeats  in  their  natural  habitat? “

[doctordonovan]

birdie rambles; I know maeve's dæmon has always been a hummingbird... but... have you seen this golden mouse with wavy fur?? TEMPTED.

[doctordonovan]

❝   this kind of trouble won’t just go away.   ❞

 people keep on finding their ways to her,    and perhaps someday scholar will finally break and ask them how on earth she keeps on being found with what seems like ease.    frustration is barely bit back when other speaks   -   shooting look towards other woman as gentle hands focus on returning book into correct spot on shelf.    her relationship with magisterium has never been a good one:    and maeve has never wanted it to be.    as long as her work is published under a male name,    as long as she keeps out of their hair,    they let her be    &&   she makes no effort to cause arguments beyond that unless they link to matters she truly cares about.

 ❝   sounds like there's a crisis of faith going on.   ❞    lorcan remains nowhere to be seen,    far too distant for anyone's comfort,    always quiet as tiny bird remains as out of the situation as it can manage.     ❝   they    -    and you   -   know I don't involve myself in these things.   I lack the needed ability to switch between moral codes.   ❞    tone remains calm,   even,   words uttered as no more than casual observations.    ❝   I'll face whatever trouble I need to,    @toxicmalicex​,   we all must in the end.   ❞

[doctordonovan]

❝ what have you done ? ❞

messes seem to follow her:  not because of a lack of skill,  not because of a lack of awareness.  the universe has always seemed to be a thing determined to try and put anyone who proves themselves a bit too clever  &&    a bit too soft back in previously designated roles.  (   she's a stubborn thing,  no matter how gentle she may prove herself to be,   she always has been.  )    ❝ I'm starting to think you're allergic to knocking,  or announcing yourself,  @toxicmalicex. ❞ 

dry remark comes before maeve can stop it,  lacking true bite,  yet it cannot be described as warm even at a stretch.  it has been a long day  -  long enough that lorcan's shadow is barely visible as it darts down stairs ahead of her,  little bird dæmon keeping carefully as out of sight as it can as she walks.  ❝ it's been a very long day.  I've done a lot of things.  had a green tea,   called off my engagement,  published a paper that has a good few people pretty upset,  purchased a rug.  though I'm doubting you're confronting me about my interior design choices.  do you feel strongly against green? ❞

[doctordonovan]

❝  if i think about it,  i get angry.  and i don’t know where that anger stops.  so i’d rather not start at all.  ❞

emotions are such messy things   -  overwhelming,  painful even when they're meant to be good.   she had spent so much of her life confused by it:  how the things that came so easily to others only ever seemed to be a struggle for her,  just like the things that came naturally to her were all too often next to impossible for others.   (   sharp eyes see plenty,  far more than scholar will ever comment upon.    but worry creeps over features slowly then all at once  -  visible in frown even as she delays words.  )

❝ I've never been very good at anger. ❞    brunette settles on observing instead.   ❝ I have plenty of flaws,  but I've been told I tend to burn cold rather than hot. ❞

her humour,  too,  is a dry little thing.  ❝ I'm not going to push you to talk about it  @aercnaut.  but not talking about it and not thinking about it aren't exactly the same now,  are they?   and anger isn't always the worst thing to feel if aimed correctly. ❞    lorcan moves quickly,  darting from hiding place within her sleeve to higher up,  peering back down at them.  

[doctordonovan]

 ❝   don't stop playing.  play something for me.   ❞

 the harp in her study mostly sits untouched,     something the few who come to find her usually assume is only there to take up space or look pretty.     yet it is an ancient thing,     intricately carved,     her fingers light in their pausing what familiar little tune she'd been stroking to life.     it helps her to think    -    and,    too often,    grounds her when the people around her simply push even maeve's patience a little too far.     it is best,    in the end,    to keep mostly to herself and to keep her name associated to whatever pseudonym works best on that occasion.    still,    people seem intent on finding maeve,    brunette pushing self up from seat and all too gently returning harp to its usual precise home.

 ❝   I've never been one for performing,   @mothersmalice​.   ❞    wherever lorcan is,    daemon remains quietly out of sight,    tucked away somewhere in large room simply...    watching.    curiosity paints gaze no matter how wary scholar always is,    small polite even in its small nature.    she knows when she is being studied in return    -    and she is all too experienced at keeping herself politely separate from most environments.    ❝   not outside of academia anyway.    care for a drink,    or is this a straight-to-the-debate visit?   ❞

[doctordonovan]

❛   do you trust me?   ❜

 she doesn't really trust anyone     -     it was not an easy lesson to learn,    and it is an even harder thing to admit.    in truth,    maeve simply...     knows better.    regardless of mostly publishing under a male name,    she has dealt with the magisterium so many times that it has been drilled into her very bones.    no matter what she does,  she will never be able to fit with those around her,    and all too often those who tolerate her will simply be trying to break her into more convenient shape.     maeve always chooses to see the best     -     to find the potential in even the unlikely.

 ❝   I think I might.   ❞     instinct doesn't scream at her:    it doesn't do usual begging for her to turn around or back out before it's too late.    instead everything about other tempts out soft    &&    curious nature    -    hummingbird darting from furthest corner of room to a little closer    -    resting on nearby books in a blur of tiny orange feathers and dark eyes.    ❝   I'm certainly willing to listen regardless,  @dustserpent​.   ❞

[doctordonovan]

invisible suits her: in a way,  maeve suspects,  that someone whose very dæmon being a golden monkey surely might never understand.  she has no desire to own the rooms she walks through  -  no urge even to ensure her legacy is one that is remembered.  maeve has always liked questions,   drawn to mystery after mystery.  over recent years she has solved plenty that plagued others for the duration of their lifetimes  &&   yet it never feels as though it will be enough.  ❝ I simply get bored easily.   I like having something that occupies my time,   had I been born a man,   maybe I'd have more skill at juggling an ego alongside the rest of my responsibilities. ❞   it's not the time for dry humour,  but then again it rarely is.  people so rarely know what to make of her,  why should now be any different?

 ❝   people want to believe my work is by a grey old man,    I do so hate to disappoint.   ❞    she cares so little of what people think about her.    at least,    she doesn't care as truly or deeply as she should.     maeve has never asked world for anything at all:    especially not for its mercy.    ❝   feel free to let me know if you have any opinions on it,    though it's just a draft.    half the things I write end up in a drawer rather than published:    it can give someone else a headache to sort through someday.   ❞

˚ · .✧˚ · .✧˚ · . marisa’s lips curled ever so softly, in contrast to narrowed eyes. unwanted opinions weren’t something she bothered to think twice about. each & every one of them had been doing whatever they had to in order to function in this limiting world, especially them women. ❝ however clearly you have the ability to switch between sexes… ❞ the comment much beneath her dignity, though words in rare situations tended to slip off her tongue without much control. her patience had been vastly tested that day already… however, hardly could she miss the opportunity to speak with the scholar — invisible as works published under her real name, invisible as her dæmon. the golden monkey hardly content with the idea, forced to stay at the back, sitting at the corner of the library table, watching in utter silence. marisa, on the other hand, fascinated.

❝ i’ve always seen the idea of giving off the credits quite humiliating, thought for those working on dust, i assume, gives the much needed anonymity… ❞ marisa mused, taking one of the piles lying on top of the table. legs crossed, eyes roamed over the notes, fingers flipped through the pages. ❝ until it doesn’t. &, considering that, i’m not so sure you can… ❞ ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

[doctordonovan]

❀    ||      tag drop:   verses