The kid gazed up at Atropos, bewildered, as though her brain was still labouring halfway back down the block to catch up with the rest of her. Shock. And a pretty impressive blood nose. Nothing broken, through; Atropos was willing to put money on that. Girl had the luck of the Irish on her side. "Catch your breath, hon," Atropos advised. "You hit that door pretty hard."
Even as she spoke, the selfsame door was opening again. Lachesis, emerging to see her elder sister simply standing over the the clearly stunned and bleeding girl, not doing a thing to reassure her, shot Atropos a look of pure exasperation. "Nat."
It was a tone of voice that the Crone knew all too well. Have a care, Atropos. Atropos, you're being insensitive. Atropos, there is nothing 'all in good fun' about a god death pool, I don't care if Death is the one running it. Over Lyra's prone form, Atropos met her sister's frowning gaze and mouthed, 'What?' She was helping! This was her, being helpful! The kid didn't need somebody simpering over her!
Lachesis tutted and knelt by Lyra's side, gently pressing a handkerchief into the girl's hand. "Here you are, sweetheart. Pinch your nose. You poor thing, I heard that from all the way out back. Does anything else hurt?"