Lyra's eyes dropped down to her hands, as though they were still messed up. There were a few faint scars still, marks breaking up the patterns of her fingerprints amongst more mundane little holes from never bothering to use a thimble when she patched up jeans. She didn't tend to look too close, anymore. Cept for now.
"It was from my guitar," she explained, stretching her fingers out for a moment before withdrawing them back into her sleeves like shy snails. "I played and... and played and played and played, I didn't care that I was bleeding, y'know? I don't think you care bout pain, after a few cups of faery wine. Pain or time. My feet were pretty bad too. I don't know how long I danced for, but... yeah they... they hurt pretty bad after, too."