Ophelia ↠ Frank Castle

06 | longing

ONE APRIL NIGHT, Ophelia was forced to go on a date by her colleague Sarah.

She had meant well, of course, but dates just weren't her thing, and they always left her in an embarrassed, self-aware state. Or rather, thats just what she told herself, after all, it had been years since her husband died, and no one had since been able to sweep her off her feet quite like he had. And she doesn't fear the date itself. No, rather she fears that someone will manage to do what her husband had done all those years ago.

The root of her fear was falling in love again, and the eventual heartbreak that followed.

Bringing herself back to the present, she took it all in, caught up in the wonder of it all—watching.

She stared lucidly at couples aimlessly guiding their limbs to the beat of music, the sweet summer's air teasingly lifting up skirt tails as they swirled in the breeze. She loved romanticizing things. The particular haphazard way the strings of fairy lights danced in the breeze, almost as if they could hear the music themselves.

She soaked up the atmosphere, noticing how the notes of sweet-scented champagne chased the melancholy out into the evening air, never dulling the festivities with the threat of mellowing it's charm.

She was on a date, dressed up to the nines at a fancy restaurant, and she felt self-conscious, even in the presence of the white satin tablecloth. This place was fancy, and spectacularly extravagent, but it wasn't her, nor was it such the place to host her ideal date. Her ideal date was sitting at home with a cup of tea reading a good book and relaxing with blankets somewhere near a fireplace.

Not a five-star restaurant.

But her date insisted, and she was never one to question, always one to please and comfort, even when she hated her own personality traits sometimes when others overstepped their mark.

Her date, Mark, was a reasonably nice guy, well from what she could gather from her colleague Sarah's vague description of him (mostly ramblings of his physique), and how he's "just so drool worthy she'd be a fool not to snatch him up before someone else does".

Honestly, she couldn't care less about appearances. She knew to avoid arrogant gym hunks when she saw them, but she also kept an open mind. She knew from experience that there are more to people than what meets the eye. And that was certainly true in her case.

But, she'd give him the benefit of the doubt. Who knows, maybe it will turn out well, and she might even be willing to go on a second date.

* * *

He arrived in what was quite possibly the most pompous outfit possible, and although she usually strayed from harsh criticisms at first sight, he was making it very hard for her not to do so in an all-white denim ensemble.

Embarrassed, she hid her red face slightly with the palm of her hand, and stared sheepishly at the table decorations set out before her.

He walked towards the table with a stride in his step, she could already smell his cologne long before his presence greeted her at the table. She smiled shyly, before offering him a greeting.

"Hey, darling." He drawled in an accent she couldn't quite place, before extending a narrow limb out towards her, the glint from his bronze rings refracting off of the corners of the room. She swallowed down her dismay when he grabbed her hand, rough hands nearly jerking her towards him as he not so subtly kissed her hand.

As he sat down in front of her she slyly wiped the back of her hand on her dress, biting back a grimace at the saliva that stuck to the fabric of her dress. Great. Her one and only date-appropriate dress ruined.

"What would you like to eat?" he asked, a deep southern drawl encasing his words, and she finally put a finger to its origin. South America. Which she supposed would have made other suitors weak in the knees. But not her, she'd gone 5 years without a relationship and she certainly wasn't about to take the first man she saw.

She feigned interest as he enthusiastically scanned the menu.

"Oh I'm not really sure yet." She added a nervous laugh, "The crab sounds nice though."

He nodded, after a stretched silence of intense curiosity on his part, seemingly satisfied with her taste in expensive french meals, keeping his eyes on the menu, not making eye contact.

"Don't worry about the price".

He took a sip of water, his bronze ring clinked the glass, a futile scream sounding at the touch. "I'll get us a bargain, sweetheart." He flashed a confident smile her way, "no doubt about that", she heard him mutter into his menu, seemingly confident in his bribing abilities.

"Great", she replied cordially, lying through her teeth. She looked down at the tablecloth, searching for forgiveness at the sudden harshness that overcame her, but the object remained obsolete, and sympathized with her instead.

She stared at the rings a moment too long. Her first mistake. He caught her gaze, and she knew she was in for a tough ride when an excited expression crossed his face, and he leaned forward, shifting in his seat. "Well," he began, holding his hands up to the light from the chandelier above to catch the glint they reflected, "these actually originated from an ancient aztec civilisation in the south pacific."

He dove into his story, droning on about the method of which the bronze was cultivated, and then cured into workable molds for jewellery, but she had long-since stopped paying attention.

In a bleak absence of thought, she closed her eyes momentarily. This could mot have gone any worse. Not only egocentric, but also mindless, a trait in which she loathed.

Sarah had better cover some of her shifts.

And, as if though answering all her prayers, her phone rang, the usual mellow tone sounding like gospel in her ears. She secretly smiled into her fingers that rested on her cheek and feigned annoyance at the interruption of the date.

Completely disregarding the fancy dishes he ordered for the both of them (with no input on her part) around her, and the man before her, she answered the call, eagerly awaiting Amy's voice.

Because to her, Amy takes priority, over anything and everyone.

Always.