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And I’ve got demons when I need ‘em
Don’t ask to see them
They’re not supposed to be used
Against you, oh
Can we build a safe house
Far from the bitter bride?
And we’ll make a home with a brown recluse
And the cobra locked outside
For the spider we’ll give a web
To the cobra a lullaby
And keeping the demons happy
You make free for me to fly
***
The sea air on his lips tasted like home. Scents of salt and sand and fish wafted in equal measure through the warm breeze and curled around him in a welcoming, familial embrace. And yet, as Abelas looked out from the Arlathan forest towards the vastness of the sea of his youth, he felt like nothing more than a stranger. The trees at his back were the same, lush and green and ever reaching towards the sky, but the forest was empty. The floor had grown wild and unkempt. The natural magical essence had been stripped away and the boughs once teeming with spirits and elves alike, had been rendered dull and lifeless. Ruins abounded. They were now simply the remnants of what once was, and from which only a few remained.
Abelas drew in a deep breath, letting the ocean air fill him and conjure life into the memories of his many years. He had come to this secluded beach often when he was young, splashed in its waves without care and laid bare upon its soft white sands until the sun hung low in the sky. It comforted him to know such places stood untouched by time, held safe by the denseness of the forest and the hidden inland curve of the land, but it also filled him with longing and an intense mournful sadness. He had spent so long in the wilds of the south, fought and slept for centuries to uphold his duty, and all the while the world had changed. His people had become unrecognizable, as far removed from himself as the shemlen their lifespans now mimicked. He was the wisp of a memory, forgotten and doomed to linger on as a lonely echo of times past. Uthenera beckoned, and he felt its pull keenly, the peaceful slumber for a weary life long spent.
But a warm, feminine laugh drifted to his ears, causing Abelas to smile and his attention to return to the sea. Ellya splashed and played in the surf, her arms held high as she leapt backwards into the crest of a wave. He felt his weariness abate and the spark of something new form, as he watched her, so carefree despite all she had suffered.
She had freed him from his duty, those many months ago at the Temple of Mythal, but somehow since, she had enslaved him in another way. He no longer felt bound to the gods, but to himself, and for himself, he wished nothing more than to be bound to her.
So much loss plagued her life: her family, her friends, her faith. And still she fought. She pushed herself for the sake of her people, and for that, inspired him to remain, to see through her eyes the merit of a new life and new dreams.
For all that his thoughts gnawed at him, and though they both knew that love could do only so much to soothe the aches of time and the invisible scars of grief, at least in this moment, in the solitude of the cove and surrounded by the gentle hush of the lapping tide, they could forget.
Ellya stood then, the waves bobbing at her waist and across her hips. Her hair hung down her back and shoulders in a dark, shiny cascade, the sheen of the natural reds and golds catching in the sunlight. With a small shake of her head, she turned towards him, tiny sprays of salt water clinging to her body and rolling in glittering droplets down her skin. The effect was mesmerizing, as if the vivacity of her spirit was breaking through into pure luminescence along her form.
“Abelas!” Her call brought his eyes to her face and her smile widened. “Are you going to stand there forever, or are you going to join me?”
The barest hint of a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, turning it upwards and holding his heart high. With a quick tug to toss his cotton shirt over his head, Abelas strode forward and leapt into the waves.