Suspended in the air as though she were floating in a waterless ocean, Gwyn laughed with delight as all the strange and wonderful objects in Lyra’s world turned a bright shade of violet before settling into various hues of much purpleness.
A clock that was half cat grinned at her from the mantle of a fireplace that had perched itself on a coatrack. A drop of purple fell to the ground and bled lilacs and violets, orchids and posies until there was a thick blanket of them so far as the eye could see.
Purple lanterns blinked into existence as they strung themselves along the silver elms encircling them. Gwyn smiled as dolls dressed in fancy purple gowns flew up to the lanterns and held a tea party while a cloud of pixies danced about them.
“It’s lovely,” she sighed, wishing she could keep the warm, open feeling in her chest forever.