Darling & Commander

The Nymph: 8

Gallaleigha POV:

"It is just phenomenally sublime!" I exclaim, still inspecting my hands that appear as if the dreary plant never touched them.

Brock smiles at my astonishment, his shoulders shuddering from concealed laughter. He guides me to a table at the restaurant he has introduced me to with his hand on the small of my back. He has appeared to have taken a liking to the particular gesture, which I cannot bring myself to discourage.

The restaurant is a very extravagant place, with several chandeliers coruscating light across the vast dining room. The tablecloths are made of fine linen, the champagne glasses of true crystals, and the booth cushions of what appears to be real velvet. I marvel at the sophisticated classiness of the room, and feel quite out of place wearing my simple white dress.

"Have I told you how tantalizing you look?" Brock takes a long sip of his Dom Perignon champagne with a smile playing on the corners of his lips.

"Tantalizing?" I titter. "Why not beautiful, lovely, or perhaps wonderful?"

"Because those words will never be enough. You are, as I believe I once told you, the epitome of beauty. I only have a glimpse of it, and I am already prepared to drop to my knees and beg for more..." He reaches across the table to thumb my dress strap, letting it fall down my shoulder for a moment before propping it upright once again.

"Do you know why my eagerness was at its peak when you informed me the blistering could disappear?" I swirl the champagne around in my glass.

"Do tell." He nods.

"Because I could not fathom the idea of waiting any longer to touch you..." I suddenly wish the table wasn't here, that we were back in my small cabin where I could have no worries about the citizens in the room spectating.

"I suppose I was not the only one, then." His calloused hand takes mine, rubbing circles across my knuckles as the waiter comes.

"What may I convey for you this fine evening?" The man nods, eyeing me with what one can only specify as one thing; human lust.

Disgusting coming off of him.

Brock seems to pick up on it too, and he growls a little as he makes the order fast. When the waiter leaves, he takes his jacket off and reaches across the table to sling it over my shoulders. The smell of crisp soap and tangy aftershave engulf me, and I pull the jacket further on me as I feel his warmth. I know his rationale was to hide me from the waiter, but I am unable to refrain from supporting every moment for selfish purposes entirely.

"I cannot promise you will get this back." I beam at him shyly, and his eyes sparkle.

"That is alright. It looks all the better on you." His lips stay in the same thin line, but I notice the corners twitching ever so slightly.

The waiter returns with our cuisine, and I inhaled the aroma burgeoning from the plate. It was rich and full flavored, making my saliva glands ooze. Brock hands the waiter the money in advance, and I get the sense of foreboding he's not leaving a very plentiful tip.

Fair, if I am being truthful. This waiter was not entirely cordial. 

"Help yourself." Brock's gaze is amused as I all but salivate at the mouth.

I assimilate the meal, and raise my fork tentatively. There is a copious array of steaks, salads, baked beans, smoked salmon, breads with dips, casseroles, chicken pot pies, and everything in between. I only drool harder when I see the tiramisus and cake slices. This feast alone could feed a whole village. I can only imagine what Brock payed for all of this.

"This is endearing..." The smirking general mutters to himself, and I pout.

"I cannot help it! I love the forest and the animals, but I have craved meat for so long." I moan, gut grumbling for the protein I have attempted to make up for with vegetables.

"I can imagine." He stabs a hunk of steak from off the tray, holding it for me. "Go on."

"A-are you sure? Was this not expensive?" My voice wavers as I equivocate.

"Only 400 Genites." Brock shakes his head as he moves the fork adjacent to my lips.

"400 Genites!?" I exclaim, almost knocking over my wine glass before Brock props it up.

"And that would have cost at least another 1000." He lets his head fall back in cachinnation.

"Oh my goodness," My cheeks burn, covering my face. "My apologies..."

"Just eat it, my arm will not hold forever." He seems unaffected by my absentmindedness.

"That is untruthful; your arm would hold in perpetuity. I saw your thews this morning in the bare light." I giggle, inclining across the table and seizing the meat from the fork prongs using my teeth.

"You venerate me excessively; I may grow a big head." Brock warns with an expression one could only delineate as silliness, a rare emotion for the general.

"You will not. You are far too modest and humble for my need to worry." I shake my head, groaning at the delectable nourishments.

He only smiles at me, prompting me on. For the rest of the sublime night, he heeds and takes fascination in my every word, paying the utmost respect and gifting me with his undivided attention for the entire evening.

Every so often, I will say something so absurd he will snap his head back in a howl of laughter, or he shall stare at me as if I am the most engrossing individual he has ever met. I do hold optimism to the idea that I am, but a general such as himself must have found something far more compelling over his years of expertise rather than a dinner dialogue with a nymph. Mind you, thus nymph has yet to experience any whereabouts past the borders of the Northern Kingdom Of Nymphs, so I am unsure of how much a spectacle he holds me to be.

His foot knocks into mine once in a while, as he stretches his feet out to straighten his prolonged legs, sending prickles up my spine. His knuckle may skim mine for a moment as we both reach for our glasses, causing unwanted flutters of my gut. His eyes will glance over my skin as if he sees the most prepossessing thing he has layed eyes upon, generating trembles in my breathing. Heaven knows what he says if this is all I can perceive.

"Galla?"