Work Text:
Any good romantic should have their muse, their most beloved object of affection to draw inspiration from. John had Frances, Virginia had Vita, Elliott had a woman he had never met and would never have a chance of meeting.
What one day started as a thinking exercise soon turned into an obsession. Elliott found himself falling for a woman that didn’t exist, his ideal of femininity, a sometimes shapeshifting mermaid he refused to let go of. His sea princess, the owner of his heart.
His mermaid often had blonde curls that glistened under the burning sun. Some other times he found her braiding her dark hair over a distant rock, winking flirtatiously when she caught him looking her way. On rare occasions, her lady let her long and graceful red hair wave with the wind as freely as she pleased, wearing a face that looked almost familiar.
She had to be sweet, as sweet as strawberry ice cream on a Summer evening, eaten as you are surrounded by your loved ones and get to hear them laugh alongside you. Elliott could never find himself loving someone who couldn’t make him feel embraced by the Sun itself with their smile alone. Her hands had to be soft and her touch ought to be soothing. She had to love being alive as much as he did. She had to be good for him because he was more than willing to be the best he could for her.
He wrote countless love letters, sheer poetry on their own, to his unnamed muse. He spent his nights sitting at the docks, looking far into the sea, as if expecting her to manifest in front of him. It was rather unkind of her, Elliott found himself thinking one night of grievous yearning, to be a mere product of his imagination. A woman as marvelous as her deserved to be fully experienced; with one’s eyes, with one’s hands, with one’s mouth.
Elliott desperately wished to share a conversation with her. He wanted her to come from wherever she was and swim her way right into his arms. What is it like to be a woman like her? What beautiful lands did she know of, whose existences he completely ignored? What hidden gems did she hide in that vast mind of hers? What could he possibly offer her as an invitation to stay by his side till death do them apart?
He went to bed that night after drinking cherry wine by the shore, watching the tides dance under the moonlight, enticing. Their movement was almost romantic. If he was any more drunk, he could have sworn it was his mermaid finally answering his calls, asking him to join her under the sea.
He dreamed of her as he drifted off to sleep. He dreamed he held his mermaid in his arms and looked into her vibrant eyes. He dreamed of a kiss far sweeter than he could even describe.