Helena: No fiends fly through me, no gargoyle given skies, no daemons defile ground, every true-shot’s ‘tween the eyes!

Helena: Sire, when will we be back on our great quest to find the Great Quest?

Helena: I’ll say it to be true. I am the lover and he is the beloved. The object of my endearment is a parasite of my patience. Yet, neither have we contracted to each other the chains of commitment.