Emarosa chuckled, pulling Lenoa from the sand. Lenoa glared with little effort as she blew a mess of blonde-ish tresses from her face. Regaining her feet, Lenoa stood over Emarosa, eyebrow cocked, as she looked over the dark mystery of a woman with prismatic hair.
“No hug?” Emarosa asked, arms outstretched.
Lenoa rolled her eyes, grabbing the dead boar’s legs and dragging it the short distance back to her camp. She cleaned and prepared it while Emarosa watched, the latter eventually taking a seat across from the small campfire now catching flame. She held her hands out, the heat of the flames making her fingers dance. She flicked a finger, and watched as the flame danced in kind. She giggled. Lenoa scoffed, continuing to prepare her dinner.
Emarosa looked up to her, through the flame. “Not even gonna say hi? Last time you wouldn’t stop bitin’ my head off, and now you’re quiet as can be.” Lenoa prepared a piece of the boar and took a huge bite, spitting out a small chunk of fat. Emarosa gestured toward the boar, to which Lenoa shrugged as she continued chomping along. Emarosa grabbed a piece of the boar, taking bites in between Lenoa’s raucous chewing.
The two ate in the otherwise stillness of the shoreline, Emarosa gleaning bits and pieces as she watched her partner. Being relatively petite, she finished her meal in little time while she waited for Lenoa. Once the latter finished her meal, Emarosa stood, turned about, and began heading back into the forest. After a moment she paused, turning back, “Aren’t you coming?” Lenoa stared at her before looking around. No apparent alternative in sight, she scratched her head, rose, and shuffled up to Emarosa.
“I won’t make you ask. We’re gonna take a little field trip while I teach you about Nephilim. I bet you’re jes’ dyin’ ta’ know, yeah?” Emarosa smirked as she led the way through the wood.
“Nephilim are the kids of Elohim and Lilim. Your dad, of course, was Elohim. Your ma—” Emarosa turned back, no sound of footsteps behind her. Lenoa remained tense, breathing heavily and trembling as her fingers continued to form and un-form a fist. “Crap, I’m so sorry sweetie.”
Emarosa cast her gaze to the ground. Before long, she raised her head, flicking her hair from her eyes. “I didn’t mean ta’ jes’ make it sound like I don’t care about what happened. He had his issues, but your dad was a great man. Maybe one of the greatest. He just…” she hesitated, “…he lost his way. As people like him sometimes do.”
Emarosa moved to give Lenoa a hug. Lenoa pushed her back, but was eventually overcome. Emarosa rested her head on Lenoa’s chest for a moment, holding her and listening to her heartbeat. After a time Lenoa eventually began to relax. “Shh, it’s alright honey.” Emarosa released her, sliding her palm along Lenoa’s cheek, not unlike a mother. Lenoa’s eyes widened. Emarosa’s thumb slid across Lenoa’s cheek before leaving her face and continuing onward.
“Anyway, your ma must’ve been Lilim. Same as all the other folk ya’ know. I guess the only real difference is how much essence we’ve taken in over the generations. We Elohim prolly had way a little too much. Makes us weird. Usually Neph-ies are jes’ kinda weird, but you…oh, we’re here.”
Emarosa led the way into the Sticks, which, while still a hovel, didn’t seem as…dead. Some people actually appeared fed, as though they might last the day. Before getting into the town, a firm hand on Emarosa’s shoulder spun her around, bringing her face-to-face with a tense Lenoa once again. Emarosa’s grin faded.
“You know why we’re, hun. C’mon.” She led the way to a burnt down shack near the edge of a cliff overlooking the great sea. The sound of quick, rapid breathes caught Emarosa’s attention as she turned about. Lenoa’s face flush, Emarosa took her hand. “You’ve been tryin’ ta’ block it out. Your subconscious won’t let ya’ though, will it?” Lenoa didn’t respond. Emarosa nodded. “Do what’cha gotta do. I’ll be here.”
Emarosa waited patiently as eventually, reluctantly, Lenoa moved passed her, like a small child wandering out on her own for the first time. She moved toward a small patchwork grave marker near the edge of the cliff. Emarosa watched as Lenoa knelt, her fingers gliding across a crude etching that spelled out “Amir” across the grave marker. Lenoa laid beside the grave, her palms resting upon the dirt plot. She closed her eyes.
Emarosa focused on the crashing of the waves against the bedrock below, drowning out the sound of whimpering turning to sobbing. She glanced toward the horizon, resting her gaze on waves splashing against the brilliant hues of the never-setting sun.