image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]
Arbious sat in the cozy corner of the restaurant, his conversation with Mila was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of a remarkable waiter. A tall, blonde man with elvish ears and a disarming smile approached their table, captivating them with his presence that defied the conventional image of a waiter, exuding an air of a seasoned warrior that Arbious could sense.
"I am Andreian, but please, call me Owl," he introduced himself with a slight bow, gracefully placing glasses of water in front of them. "And may I have your order?"
Mila glanced nervously at the menu, her hands betraying her inner embarrassment with a slight tremor. The lingering gaze of the waiter had added to her indecisiveness, intensifying her unease. Sensing her distress, Arbious gently clasped her hand, allowing the warmth of her soft, pale skin to seep into his. Like a balm, his touch seemed to soothe her, and she finally mustered the resolve to make a choice. "I'll have the T-bone steak, please," she spoke, her voice still quivering from her anxiety.
" An excellent choice," Andreian responded, jotting down her order on his notepad. "And how would you like it cooked?"
Mila turned to Arbious, seeking guidance in the face of this unfamiliar question. "Let's leave it to the chef's recommendation," Arbious interjected, realizing that Mila was uncertain about her preferred level of doneness.
The waiter's attention shifted to Arbious, waiting for his order. "And what would you be having?"
"The same as her," Arbious replied, setting the menu aside. "And, if possible, could you also bring us a bottle of wine?"
"Certainly, would a bottle of Lumière suffice?"
"Yes, that would be most sufficient. Thank you, waiter."
After the waiter departed, Mila and Arbious exchanged glances, their nervous laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. "He was quite intimidating, wasn't he?" Mila commented, releasing a soft sigh.
Arbious couldn't shake the feeling he had seen this Owl person before. "He was indeed,"he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But now I can't help but wonder if we should've waited for Graybeard. It feels somewhat wrong to start without him."
Mila shook her head, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "I highly doubt he would have joined us. He did mention he was going to be busy, and the day is nearly at its end."
"I suppose you're right," Arbious conceded, realizing the futility of waiting for him. "But why would it take him so long?"
Mila leaned in, a mischievous smile on her lips, "Did you not see how he was looking at her?"
"Who?" Arbious questioned, genuine curious at who someone like Graybeard would have his eyes on.
"The receptionist, who else?"
"Oh really? I didn't notice... But now that I recall, he seemed to be eyeing her quite a lot." Arbious mused playfully. "So, he has a thing for her huh? Well, I have to give it to her, she was rather good looking for a dwarf."
Mila's playfulness turned somewhat passive, "I really don't like how you address others like that."
Seeing that Arbious remained silent, Mila spoke up, feeling uneasy at how she confronted him. Curiosity sparked within Mila's eyes as she asked, "But why did you order wine?"
Arbious paused for a moment, contemplating his response. "Well, shouldn't we indulge ourselves? After all, we won't be returning to this place anytime soon. It's an opportunity to try new things, and who knows, you might even enjoy it."
A faint frown formed on Mila's face as she replied, "But I don't like alcohol."
"Opportunity has hair on her forehead but is bald behind." Arbious spoke, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reassured her, "Don't worry, we'll drink it together. We can savor the flavors, and finally find out what the fuss is about. Besides, it's not just about the wine itself, but the moment we share."
Mila's uncertainty wavered, replaced by a glimmer of curiosity and trust. "Alright then, let's make this a memorable evening, wine and all."
The waiter reappeared, gracefully placing the sizzling steaks and a bottle of wine on the table. His presence alone left them momentarily speechless, captivated by his elegant demeanor.
With a poised gesture, he proceeded to arrange empty glasses before them, offering his assistance in pouring the wine. However, Arbious raised his hand, gently signaling that he would take care of it himself, wanting to create a personal touch for Mila. The waiter acknowledged his request with a nod, bowing once more before discreetly departing, leaving them to relish their meal in private.
Mila's gaze shifted nervously toward the empty glass, her uncertainty evident since she had never experienced the effects of alcohol before. Having only witnessed Graybeard's drunken state with ale, she held no particular interest in it.
"Don't worry," Arbious reassured her, grasping the bottle and slowly pouring the wine into her glass first, then his. "It will be fine."
Her eyes still hesitant, Mila responded, "Are you sure? It smells a bit strange."
"Trust me," Arbious assured her with a warm smile. "But before we drink, it's best not to do so on an empty stomach. Let's enjoy our meal first, and then we can indulge in the wine."
Mila picked up the knife set neatly beside her plate, her gaze shifting to the perfectly cooked T-bone steak. The chef had expertly prepared it to medium-well, a thoughtful choice considering the preferences of adventurers who often favored well-cooked meats. Arbious couldn't help but admire the chef's attention to detail and their understanding of individual tastes as he observed Mila beginning to cut into her steak.
"You're not eating?" Mila asked, her eyes meeting Arbious's inquisitively as she continued slicing through the tender meat.
Truth is, I don't need to eat, but fine, since I'm already here, I might as well.
Taking hold of the knife, Arbious deftly cut into his steak, creating uniform rectangles of succulent meat. With a hint of anticipation, he brought a piece to his lips and savored the flavors. Cooked to a perfect medium rare, the steak exuded juiciness and tenderness. As he bit into it, a burst of rich flavors enveloped his taste buds, leaving a trace of delectable juices that escaped from the meat. A subtle dribble of blood escaped the corner of his mouth as he relished each chew, fully immersed in the indulgence of the moment.
Mila's gaze remained fixated on the small trickle of blood that escaped Arbious's mouth, a look of concern etched across her face. Without hesitation, she swiftly retrieved her handkerchief, reaching over to delicately wipe away the droplet, surprising Arbious with her swift and caring gesture.
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The intimate act seemed to momentarily envelop them in a tender moment, but as soon as she realized what she had done, a deep blush spread across Mila's cheeks. Embarrassment washed over her, causing her face to flush a vibrant shade of red. She fumbled for words, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep..." she stammered, her gaze shifting downward, unable to meet Arbious's eyes.
With a gentle smile, Arbious reached out to lightly grasp her hand, reassuring her. "There's no need to apologize, Mila. Thank you."
The remaining traces of tension dissolved as they wholeheartedly delved into their ordered dishes. The flavors and textures of the food, while adequate for most, didn't quite resonate with Arbious's divine nature. As a celestial being, mortal cuisine held little significance to him. What truly mattered was the opportunity to spend time with Mila, to unravel the depths of her character.
World domination was still on Arbious's mind, but for the time being, he had set his objectives aside. He trusted that if anyone could fulfill his tasks in his absence, it would be Alpos. With him gone, Alpos had accomplished a great deal in Hellfire Citadel, including arrangements that Arbious had long intended but neglected due to his own carelessness.
His plans with Mila remained clouded in his mind. As Michael's daughter, she possessed incredible untapped power. He needed her to remain alive long enough to serve his purposes, killing her now would only hinder his plans.
As their meal drew to a close, Mila was satiated, her appetite fully satisfied. Yet a different kind of hunger stirred within Arbious, one that transcended mere physical nourishment. Mila glanced at him, her eyes narrowing, and she spoke.
"So, the wine?"
"Ah, yes..." Arbious responded, shifting his gaze towards the glass of wine before him. "Shall we make a toast?" he suggested, observing Mila as she straightened herself on her seat, her hand firmly clasping her own glass.
"A toast to what?" she inquired.
"To our triumph. To the future that awaits us, to our well-being, and the prosperity we seek."
Mila lifted her glass, and the clinking of their glasses filled the air as they toasted.
Bringing the glass near her lips, Mila took a moment to inhale the scent of the alcohol before starting to drink. However, she seemed eager to gulp it down quickly, and Arbious promptly intervened. "Take it slow... It's not a race," he gently advised, trying to guide her.
"Oh..." Mila responded softly, meeting his gaze.
Leaning back in his chair, Arbious demonstrated the proper way to enjoy the wine. He took measured sips, allowing the flavors to unfold each mouthful. Mila followed suit, gradually sipping the wine, relishing its rich taste.
This is disgusting...
Mila's laughter filled the air, and she delicately wiped away a lingering droplet of wine from her mouth. Intrigued by her sudden laughter, Arbious inquired, "What amuses you?"
"It's nothing," she replied, a smile still playing on her lips while she continued to giggle. "It's just... Everything has been so surreal since you arrived, and then all these fortunate events unfolded unexpectedly... The wine, the rewards. It feels almost unreal yet incredibly wonderful."
"I'm glad to see you're savoring the experience," Arbious responded. "Would you care for another round?"
Mila glanced at her nearly empty glass and nodded.
It was evident that alcohol wasn't her preferred indulgence, and Arbious shared the sentiment. However, despite his instincts warning against it, he poured her another shot, driven by a genuine desire to deepen his connection with the elf he had grown so fond of.
Mila looked at her glass of wine once Arbious was done pouring, "Shall we make another toast?"
"Of course... Why don't you lead this one?" Arbious replied, lifting his glass of wine.
"To... us..." Mila blushed slightly as she raised her glass.
"To us!" Arbious echoed, as they clinked their glasses together once again for another round of celebration.
As they enjoyed the second round of wine, Arbious made the decision to conclude the evening. Raising his hand, he signaled to the waiter, requesting the bill. Mila appeared content with the night, yet also displaying signs of weariness. Leaning back in her chair, Mila gazed upwards. It was apparent that she had become intoxicated, an unexpected result after consuming only two glasses of wine.
The waiter handed Arbious a small slip of paper, which revealed the total amount: 12 gold. He couldn't help but be amused by the seemingly exorbitant bill, though he had no intention of causing a scene in public. It felt like a form of blackmail, an unjust demand that he begrudgingly had to meet. Retrieving 12 gold coins from his pouch, he placed them precisely on the bill, ensuring each coin was accounted for. Mila and he rose from their seats, making their way towards the exit.
Just as they were about to exit, the waiter reappeared before them, wearing a pleasant smile.
"Thank you for choosing to dine with us. It was a pleasure to serve the both of you," he expressed courteously.
Despite his lingering wariness, Arbious nodded in acknowledgment, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and relief after the events of the day. They stepped outside the restaurant, embracing the cool air that greeted them.
Mila's steps were unsteady, causing her to sway from side to side. It was evident that she couldn't handle her liquor well, and Arbious couldn't help but find amusement in the comical sight unfolding before him.
He reached out and took hold of her hand, offering her a reassuring grip as she turned her gaze towards him, gratitude shining in her eyes. In a sudden surge of emotion, she embraced him tightly, tears streaming down her face. "Thanks for being with me... And never looking down on me," she expressed, her voice laden with a weighty mix of appreciation and vulnerability.
"I would never." Arbious replied, holding her firmly in his arms, sensing more to come.
He needed her to indulge in him with whatever troubled her.
They remained there on the street, the chilly breeze growing stronger by the second, yet bound together like an unbreakable bond.
Unexpectedly, Mila reached up and brushed her hair aside, revealing her ears—ears that bore the cruel marks of mutilation inflicted upon an elf. A twisted satisfaction welled up within Arbious, brought on by his success in getting Mila to reveal something that made her vulnerable. He reveled in the pain she must have endured. Despite his outward show of sympathy, a part of him relished this visible symbol of her suffering, understanding her on a deeper, more sinister level.
Dark emotions swirled within him as he gazed upon her disfigured ears, torn between a perverse compassion and a morbid curiosity that arose from her revealing this to him.
Feigning empathy, he whispered softly, "It's okay. I already know."
Mila's eyes widened, grasping his clothing harder as she faintly cried. "Graybeard told you, didn't he?"
"He did." Arbious replied as he held her even tighter, his embrace offering false solace and reassurance, his intents filled with malice and certainty. "No matter what happens, remember that I will always be here for you, and so will Graybeard. You're not alone in this."
"You will teach me... Right...?" Mila inquired with a wavering voice. "You will stay with us... Right?"
"I will..." Arbious responded, gently caressing her hair as she held on to him. "I'll teach you magic; I'll make sure you learn everything you want to know."
"Thank you, Arbious," Mila murmured softly, her voice tinged with vulnerability. She clung onto him, her eyes unable to meet his as he gazed down at the top of her head, enfolding her in his embrace.
"It's going to be alright. I'm here for you now... Don't worry," he reassured her in a gentle tone.
A brief moment passed, as the winds began to pick up their pace. Mila gently stepped back after mustering up her courage brought on by his reassurance. She gazed up at him with a tear-stained face, wiping away the remnants of her sadness and loneliness that consumed her. "Let's make our way back to the inn," she spoke, her words slightly faltering, her face flushed red, and yet the sorrow of her past evident.
"I'll guide you then." Arbious replied, seeing that she could not make her way back safely.
He felt her sorrow, and he fully understood the despair humans felt, yet this only fueled his disdain for their weakness. As he clasped her hand gently, leading her back to the inn, he sensed his manipulative instincts sharpening. The remainder of their journey was marked by an enveloping silence, but with the lingering negative emotions he felt, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dark satisfaction. His initial goal had been achieved; she had opened up to him, sharing her burdens. He had become someone she could rely on, unconditionally by her side, without judgment for what she had endured.
As a demon, his intentions were rooted in personal gain, with a desire to manipulate her for his own benefit. The sense of accomplishment he felt was not for comforting her, but for the power he now held over her fragile state. Inexplicably, a twisted protective instinct arose within him, not to shield this vulnerable elf, but to keep her under his control. He found himself yearning for her to maintain her innocence, not out of affection, but because her purity made her all the more malleable.