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[freuleinanna]

For goodness' sake, she is barely twenty-three, she has no more comprehension of being a mother than of being a panserbjørn, yet the longing, purely physical, is there. Something's changed in her, like her integrity has been compromised. Like she’s been invaded and pillaged, robbed of something she never quite wanted but is barely restraining herself from crawling on her knees after. It’s humiliating. 'Is she safe?' Marisa strikes the perfect dry, pragmatic tone despite the most vicious yearning building underneath. 'From you? Yes.' 'Good.' It is good. She doesn't know what her body could enslave her to do if there existed the slightest chance of getting near that child. It is very, very good that Asriel hates her enough to spare her the turmoil.

Masriel + Lyra via random excerpts from my writing