Little John took a decent sized moment, giving his beard a thoughtful scratch. “Not sure I can give you a perfect answer,” he said, with a wry, borderline apologetic smile because he got the feeling a perfect answer was what they were both after.
“Had to make myself content, after all these years, that there isn’t one, least, not one I can see from where I stand. Maybe it’s all to do with the big man upstairs, maybe a quirk of the universe. The way I see it, that is, the way it seems to work is all about the stories that matter in the world, the ones that mean something to people, in here,” he said, giving his chest a few thumps with a light fist. “Something about them carves out a space in the world. We’re what fills that space. We’re flesh and blood and thoughts and souls, same as you, we just came from someplace different. Would you agree with that, love?” he asked, turning his head toward Elaine.
Lyra was glad she was holding onto the back of Rosario’s chair, and she inched sideways so it was easier to look down and see the expression on Rosario’s face. To her, Johnny’s story made a certain kind of sense, or at least, the beginning of sense? Or maybe it was just all in his delivery? Like she thought, if he could believe that, maybe she could too? Though, she did still felt the sting of the frustrating lack of how, and she knew for sure Rosario would be feeling it more.
It was kinda like the Bible stories she’d read as a kid; God created the world in seven days. Kids books never explained how, just that He did, and those books had made a certain kind of sense to her back then. It hadn’t been till she became friends with Rosario that she realised there was more to the history of the universe that what could be printed in a book.
So nah, she was absolutely certain; Rosario was never going to accept an answer that boiled down to 'that's just how it is'.