Cara takes a sip of her wine, savoring the rich aftertaste as her eyes casually survey the room around her. Dozens of small tables litter a large, intimately lit restaurant, each covered with a fine white cloth and small candles.
A minimal number of well-trained wait staff filter between the tables, taking orders, serving food, and keeping wine glasses filled. The sounds of quiet chatter and soft laughter permeate the air. The patrons range from lone, wealthy food lovers to small, modest families treating themselves. However, as Wellick's premier restaurant, the Pointed Ear's ambience and menu also appeal to a lot of young couples looking to enjoy a romantic evening out.
Cara enjoys her meal alone, at a quiet balcony table on the second floor of the restaurant, surveyed from a respectful distance by her guards. She finds her eyes drifting to the many young couples enjoying themselves below on the main floor. Affectionate smiles, suggestive grins, hands squeezed across tables, feet rubbed playfully out of sight – Cara can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the various spectacles of romance around her.
It's something she'd very much like for herself. Unfortunately, she hasn't had the best luck finding someone. Well, perhaps that's a bit disingenuous. She's actually inundated with suitors, marriage proposals, love confessions – in her mail, on the street – in terms of quantity, she's not lacking in options. Her fire red hair and amber eyes give her a pretty singular beauty in the elven population, and more attention than she honestly wants.
If all she cared about was having a partner, even an attractive, well-off partner that dotes on her, it wouldn't be an issue. But that's the problem...she doesn't care how good they look on paper. Those things are nice, but she wants chemistry – real chemistry. Someone who she sees as more than just a checklist of good qualities, and them her. Someone who makes her feel engaged, excited, seen, even in mundane conversation, and who gets her heart racing with more than just sexual tension.
Alas, despite plenty of looking, innumerable dates, and a fair share of doomed flings over the centuries, she's never found anyone like that.
Well...
Her thoughts drift to a certain green-eyed misfit – her one, reluctant exception. One who she's wished on a couple of occasions would be as annoyingly infatuated with her looks as most people.
'Then again, I suppose that's part of his charm...'
Mizuki...the alien called a Nephilim who once pretended to be a magic-less human, a mere servant to an Elder Dragon. Remembering that first Royal Announcement event, especially her interactions with him in the ballroom at the celebration, she can't help but smile fondly.
Even when she thought he was human, she'd found him fascinating...charming. Every conversation with him a playful game of cat and mouse that she looked forward to, full of unexpected surprises that left her feeling more ensnared by his unique personality.
Inevitably, she recalls propositioning him just a few days into their relationship, and a rush of heat moves to her face. She downs the rest of her wine in embarrassment, and gestures impatiently to her private waiter to refill it.
'Gods...how desperate did I look back then...'
Unfortunately, she's all too aware that it only got worse from there. Going to Eden, all but begging him to sleep with her...even now, she actively cringes thinking about it. At the time, she couldn't figure out why those efforts never beared any fruit. She knows – Mizuki enjoys her company, he doesn't care about either of their stations, and he most definitely is sexually attracted to her.
For her, that's always meant that all she needs to do is be forward – the thought of him turning her down never really festered. She chalked his hesitancy up to shyness or something else transient, and assumed it was just a matter of time.
Of course, she was wrong. She knows now that Mizuki doesn't do casual flings, and he's very particular about trusting people. Really trusting them, not the little games of traded favors and loyalty tests he seems to love. That's what she was missing early on.
Eventually, she realized that and earned his genuine trust. With that, she could see his sharp dismissal of her advances transition to a kind of sympathetic, conflicted rejection. She was sure – is sure – that Mizuki developed feelings for her. The romantic kind.
The reminder sends an expectant shiver through her, a satisfied smile forcing its way to her lips.
Unfortunately, by the time she'd realized all this and done what she needed to remedy her oversights, Mizuki was rejecting her for a new reason...one she couldn't talk her way around. She frowns, a rare flicker of irritation crossing her face.
'She's awfully entitled for someone who was his second choice...'
Yes...her run-in with the Princess. The one where Ilina all but threatened to disembowel her if she didn't stop being too 'friendly' with Mizuki. She's still the slightest bit bitter about that aggressive ambush. Not only that, but it kind of crushed her for a few days...the realization that Mizuki was irrevocably off the market.
Naturally, she couldn't have cared less that he had a lover already. She had already learned about Nina before finding about Ilina, and that hadn't changed things for her. She is painfully aware of how rare it is to find someone who makes her feel the way Mizuki does, to excite her the way he does. Isn't sharing better than losing?
Unfortunately, unlike her, unlike Nina, Ilina doesn't share that opinion. She's...possessive, to Cara's great initial shock. Like a feral dog marking and defending its territory. That's the reason Mizuki is off the market. At least, that's how she felt at first. But now that she's thought it over for a few days?
She mutters to herself, her voice cold, indifferent.
"The Princess can fuck off..." (Cara)
Cara takes another long sip of wine, then sighs contentedly, her lips twisting into a faint smirk.
'I know what I'm doing now – I secured the weekly dates, and I'll be patient. No more being forward, no more outright propositions...subtlety. I'll be his friend, his close friend. Comfy, affectionate, touchy...innocently permissive. I'll let him get comfortable with being close to me without crossing any lines, with acknowledging his attraction to me without feeling like I'll take advantage or give him a reason to feel guilty.
'I'll make him feel so safe around the line that I draw that he'll live on it when he's in my presence. Until it starts to blur. Until we're one especially fond evening together away from crossing it...naturally. When that happens, I know him...he'll take responsibility for my feelings. Mistress, wife, friend he fucks...I don't really care what he calls it, because it will be what I wanted. We'll be together...a team. And Ilina can either accept it, or she can choose to leave. It was never her right to monopolize him in the first place.'
Content with her plan, Cara returns her focus to people watching, letting her bitter resentment towards Ilina's selfishness wash away. She swirls her wine, admiring the intimate atmosphere and couples below. A genuine smile finds its way to her face.
"It really is nice. Fufufu...maybe I'll bring him here for a fifth or sixth date." (Cara)
Cara allows herself to imagine how it would go...how she'd play the friend card to her advantage. Maybe frame it as a 'culinary experience' she wants his feedback on? That'd be a good excuse to share food, her feed him and vice versa.
Her thoughts are interrupted by a slight stir on the floor below, murmurs of intrigue among the restaurant guests. Curious, Cara glances around for the source of the commotion, and sees a new couple walking into the restaurant. Her eyes widen at the sight of them.
Both of them look to be young elves, anywhere from thirty to fifty years. The human equivalent of about eighteen in appearance. The young man has jet black hair, brown eyes, a handsome, angular face, and a lean but muscled body. Despite his otherwise quite attractive appearance, he's wearing an unremarkable outfit – black silk shirt, brown leather pants.
The young woman is...stunning, bold. She has raven black hair and almost unnaturally bright blue eyes. Her hair is partially fixed in an ornate braid that frames her beautiful, pixie-like features well. However, the most striking part is her dress. It's silver, made of fine silk, and...barely modest enough to be socially acceptable.
Thin straps leave the flawless pale skin of the girl's petite shoulders and upper back on full display. The fabric isn't tight, but seems to cling to her curves, accentuating her well-toned bottom and perky chest. To add insult to injury, the fabric around the chest hangs down to give a generous preview of her cleavage, and the hem of the dress stops halfway down her thighs, just the right length to cause a flutter of anticipation with every step.
Cara honestly finds the guy pretty handsome, despite his lackluster appearance, but it's ultimately the girl she can't take her eyes off. She's just so...
'Bold...good for her, she looks great.'
Cara smiles softly, admiring the beautiful couple as they walk to the hostess stand. The girl is wrapped around the guy's arm like a second skin, her head resting intimately on his shoulder while she smiles up at him radiantly.
On two occasions, she sees the guy glance down at his arm and blush, no doubt focusing on the fact that the girl is mercilessly pressing his arm into the bare skin between her breasts, even further accentuating her cleavage from his vantage point. Both times, Cara sees the girl catch his gaze and bite her lip at him teasingly, causing him to blink like he's been physically stunned.
Cara can't help but chuckle to herself, liking the girl more by the second.
'Oh, she's good. This poor guy is clearly wrapped around her finger. But I guess he's not the only one that's smitten...'
She watches with growing amusement as the couple is led to one of the few empty tables. Along the way, turned heads abound as people take turns staring, mostly at the girl. Cara loses count of the number of men she sees eyeing the hem of the girl's dress like it's going to perform a miracle any minute. And yet, the girl stays firmly clutched against the guy's side, her eyes glued to him and practically burning with affection.