After Caleb had gone on the run, the one thing keeping Lyra sane in that hellhole had gone and she'd been left alone, many times she'd fantasized about fleeing, normally when she was sat alone under the starry sky after escaping the insanity that had become her life. Just leaving  Bláta Krev Ulice on a night to go not even two miles away from the place had terrified her, she never knew what was around the corner, so fleeing to France was a gamble she never thought she'd take. It had been handy that there'd been someone kind enough to help her escape though, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been wary at first. Being in the camp had made her lose a lot of trust towards people and even though she still showed people kindness, it was sometimes forced, something Lyra never thought was possible for her but the camp had broken her. There was no ifs or buts. It had broken her completely. Admittedly she was still trying to teach herself that not everyone wanted to see her dead but it was hard to come back from being tortured just for being alive.

Lyra had tried her best to keep in contact with Sophia after she heard what had happened to Ti, she wanted to go and visit the older witch and tell her it'd be okay but it was too risky for her to go anywhere and she hated that. She hated that she couldn't be there for someone who had been there for her in her time of need. She sent letter back and forth, but it wasn’t like she had an owl any more so sometimes it took longer, one blessing though was after a week in the sanctuary, she’d been greeted with a most pleasant surprise as Smokey had arrived in the arms of one of the many volunteers helping people like her. It went without saying that she’d cried the minute she had her pet, he’d been her companion through thick and thin and being separated from him whilst in the camp, only getting to spend a few hours on a night with him had made things that much harder but she had him now, and she finally had something to distract her from reality when she still needed those moments alone. Her fox had loved being able to amble about in the sanctuary, she could only imagine the fact that it was nothing but caves and grounds surrounding them that it was like being in the wild for him, something he’d not been able to enjoy but like all wild animals, craved.

When her thoughts weren’t focused on Smokey, herself, Ti or Sophia, she found herself lost in thought worrying about her sister, she was under the radar for now, she was too young to be at school or control her magic, it was just easy enough for the Death Eaters to ignore her and make sure she never got her Hogwarts letter. She knew Whitby was probably free from as much havoc, after all it was a small enough place that the Death Eaters probably just ignored it. That was the thing that pained her most though, Lyra had to keep on ignoring her parents, she couldn’t tell them where she was or even send them an owl telling them she was alive, it was far too dangerous, at least in sending letters to Sophia, the older witch was a half blood so very little interest would be shown to her, but even then it was still a risk.

The blonde laid back and sighed heavily, only managing a small laugh when Smokey padded over to her and dropped down onto her stomach, she sat up and little to see him curled up in a ball before laying back down and starting to stroke him. Her mind still wandering over everyone that mattered to her. The silence bothered her, normally she liked to listen to the birds singing or the wind blowing through the leaves of the trees but here, surrounded by nothing but rock, Lyra was left only with her thoughts to distract her from the loneliness that was slowly starting to creep up to her. 

outfit

She'd stayed the summer in England, went to back Spain in the fall for the holidays. She was pretty sure Dimitri had helped with that; she wouldn't ask how. She'd went back to Britain after the holidays-- Dimitri had been furious at her, but she'd had a job, a good steady one, and she'd made promises. It hadn't been so very difficult to hide-- she'd been born regila and she wasn't very known. Probably someone from the yeshiva had also helped-- called, claimed she was a cousin, which if she looked back far enough, would certainly be true. There were some other Cohens, some other Levis, Julia Goldberg's Levine mother had come from the same shtetl that Ayelet's maternal grandmother was from, and Leah Azoulay had a similar name that could have been used. She wasn't sure if they did-- couldn't ask, or then they would, and they would be furious, and she'd have to deal with about sixteen mothers-- no thank you.

She was fairly confident Spain wouldn't go the same way, but the other regilot-- Nomi (de Rothschild) Frères would go a similar way, hiding in plain sight with her family. New cousins would be found and branched onto the tree (most shniyim, after all, didn't know DNA) and the families of those involved with Yeshiva were tightly bound together. They attended regilim services often, and with Jewish Geography they could probably save most Jewish shniyim like her, but those who were not? Shniyim Spain was close with France, somehow, despite their regilim governments not getting along all too well in the past, and France was very much against Britain's treatment right now.

They would be safe. They could be safe. Well-- maybe. After all, Spain's regilim history was...not good at all, to say the absolute least (neither was France's, but she supposed that was another difference of the two-- they turned blind eyes on their regilim and preached tolerance. or did they? she knew only bits of Spanish shniyim history, and none of France's). And there was Catalonia. But she was in France now, and she, hopefully, would be safer. She'd found another place to live at, another community to stay with. She could always escape again.

Shniyim often forgot that people like her knew how to live like regilim. They knew how to blend in, knew the slang and the style and what not to do. Shniyim stuck out, with their warming charms on summer outfits in the winter-- Ayelet bounded herself up, her wand disguised as a sex toy in a side pocket of her bag. She was better with her hands, after all-- she was wandless, and most shniyim communities, especially if they were goyishe, expected a young woman educated in Europe to be wandless, much less as natural as she was.

"Eh--." She knew how to say this in French; it was something she'd found herself saying a fair amount. "Ton chat est magnifique." She didn't even want to guess what her accent was, but she couldn't help it-- she did love cats. Cat-lover to cat-lover, maybe they could talk.

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regila/regilot/regilim: slang term for Muggle, Hebrew for "usual" or "regular", positive connotations
sheni/shniya/shniyim/shniyot: slang term for magical, Hebrew for "other" or "secondary", neutral connotations
goyische-- literally 'nation', used for 'non-Jewish'
'you have a beautiful cat'

When Lyra heard a voice beside her, she sat up hastily and pulled Smokey closer to her looking panicked, her blue eyes wide as she scanned the woman across from her. She couldn’t be sure if she was friend or foe and Lyra wasn’t sure she wanted to know, she had to tread carefully. The blonde knew not everyone was a bad guy, but her mind right now always went straight to the worst case scenarios. Lyra bit her lips and eyed her hesitantly, was she a muggle who had just strayed off the path or was she magic? More importantly was she like her? A mudblood. Lyra felt her breath start to quicken as she realised that she currently had no decent wand to defend herself if she was in trouble, all she could do was scream and shout, but anyone who knew Lyra knew her scream was just a normal speaking voice for people, she was shy and quiet and her voice never went above a whisper. It probably annoyed people but when she didn’t know you, well it was just her reflex.

The woman said something in French and Lyra furrowed her brow as she listened, in her free time she had been learning French but she was no expert, she picked up ‘cat’ and ‘magnificent’ and Lyra dropped her gaze to Smokey who was settled in her arms looking disgruntled, or as disgruntled as an animal could appear. ”Mon chat? Merci, mais il est en fait un renard.“ Lyra replied quietly, her voice just louder than a whisper, although she was almost certain her delivery of the words were clumsy at best. She couldn’t blame the woman for mistaking what Smokey was though, he was as docile as a house cat, besides, it wasn’t everyday you saw someone with a pet fox now was it? Even her friends and family hadn’t been able to wrap their heads around it the first time she’d showed them Smokey. ”Do you- do you speak English? Uh- Anglais?” She asked taking a tiny, hesitant step towards the woman and offering her a small smile.

Lyra placed Smokey down at her feet at he pranced up to the woman, starting to sniff at her feet before sitting down and balancing on his hind legs, reaching his paws upwards to the woman. Lyra watched intently, she always trusted Smokey when he decided if he liked a person and he’d never made her think it was a mistake. The fact he was quite content with the woman before him made the younger witch relax ever so slightly. ”Je m'appelle Lyra.” She finally said, hoping that the woman across from her spoke English, she was quickly using up what little French she knew.

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Mon chat? Merci, mais il est en fait un renard - My cat? Thank you, but he is actually a fox