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1. The invitation
Clara stood in front of the TARDIS wardrobe, hands on her hips. She was surrounded by racks of gowns, suits, and entirely unidentifiable ensembles from eras and worlds she couldn’t begin to name. The TARDIS had helpfully organized the options with labels such as “casual dinner,” “extravagance,” and a category simply labeled “trust me.”
"All right, old girl," Clara muttered, sifting through the racks. "I need something that says… mysterious time-traveling badass and perfect romantic. But not desperate. Definitely not desperate."
Alarra had prepared and proposed a whole-day outing, but Clara had insisted on a simple dinner date before going for a whole trip. She said they should get to know each other on a more superficial level, like regular people - and Alarra had admitted that this formality could be useful. They had started on a high note of saving each other's lives and showing their more exceptional traits, and Clara thought that their heightened emotions and stakes could induce them into mistaking intensity with actual relational affinity.
Alarra had immediately realised that was wise, and complied with the idea, delaying her escapade to the next week, and commending Clara’s relational sagacity - especially since her plan involved taking Clara to the most amazing landscapes, showing off her submarine piloting skills, her adventurous spirit, and her aesthetics sense, with the barely-hidden intent to swoop the undead girl off her feet.
“Do you mind if it's formal, though?" Alarra had asked. "I'd like to invite you to the 'Tidal Cave'. It's the go-to place for wealthy interplanetary travellers. A bit ostentatious, very touristic, but they say the food is exquisite.”
“Why not? D’you go there often?”
Alarra grinned. “Nope. First time. I was just offered an invitation for two after my stunt with the Resonator. It’s only fair I share it with you, the unsung hero. I hope the place lives up to its reputation.”
2. Formal dinner in a posh restaurant
When Clara arrived at the restaurant, a luxurious place nestled in one of Aurellium Reach’s tidal caverns, Alarra was stunned into silence for a solid five seconds. Clara wore an exquisite gown, blending sleek, flowing fabric with an asymmetrical, futuristic design, the shimmering fiber shifting colours as she moved, from deep sapphire to a soft, iridescent pink. "Wow," Alarra said finally, her gaze sweeping over Clara’s outfit. "You look like you just stepped out of a romantic space opera holo. Or a really expensive dream."
Clara smiled, feeling her cheeks warm. "You clean up pretty well yourself." Alarra, in a flowing dress inspired by Thalassian traditions, looked radiant.
As they were guided to their table, seated beneath a ceiling of glowing seaweed that swayed gently with the tidal currents, they couldn’t help but notice some admiring - and envious - glances thrown their way. The eerie similitude of their features only highlighted their elegance and charisma.
The place had quirky floating dinner plates — delicate works of engineering that hovered over the tables, and the food was all evocative of Thalassia-7’s landscapes and bioluminescent lifeforms, with varying degrees of phosphorescence and shimmer.
The first half of the date went perfectly.
They talked, they laughed, and they shared stories of their respective adventures. Clara was enchanted by Alarra’s tales of her exploits, and Alarra couldn’t get enough of Clara’s incredible travels throughout space and time, and was charmed by her dry wit and understated charm. Their differences appeared to be a source of mutual seduction, Clara’s seasoned experience drawing Alarra’s admiration, while Clara was drawn to the more innocent brightness of her counterpart.
3. A little too much sugar
They had just been served their desert, when one of the floating dinner plates developed a slight misalignment.
"I think your cake’s trying to stage an escape," Alarra said stifling a laugh, pointing at Clara’s plate, which was sliding perilously close to the edge of the table.
Clara, in an attempt to salvage her dinner and avoid a disaster, reached for the magnetic disk. Unfortunately, it reacted to her gesture with a wild wobble, sending the pastry and its delicate coulis cascading into her lap - and the floor
With a yelp of surprise, Clara shot out of her chair. Her foot caught on the table’s base and the slippery cream, sending her stumbling into the dessert dispenser and fall to the floor. "Sorry," she said in reflex. The pristine machine let out a cheerful ding, as though thrilled to assist, and a cascade of glowing, gelatinous orbs erupted forth, landing on Clara’s dress, her hair, and even her face. As she tried to straighten up and emerge from the disastrous spurt, she tried to support herself on the dispenser, which caused the now dysfunctional machine to spew a second wave of desserts, this time as medium-velocity projectiles.
The nearest diners gasped, some leaping out of the way, while others were less fortunate. A tall, thin alien with lavender skin took a direct hit to the face from a bioluminescent pudding, splattering his ornate robes and leaving him completely disoriented.
Clara was trying to regain her footing and escape the sugary bombardment, but the floor was now so slippery that she slid and fell at the foot of a nearby table, and the plate she was holding to started emitting a screeching noise. The commotion startled one of the table’s patrons—a towering creature from the planet Morigenia, with a horned skull, orange leathery skin and too many muscles for one body. Alarmed by the sudden noise, he jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair, gesturing wildly as if to defend from a full-on attack. His extreme reaction sent him colliding into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. Neon-colored cocktails sprayed through the air in gracious parabolic trajectories, drenching a table of impeccably dressed patrons who jerked in horror.
4. A miserable Morigenian moron
One of those was obviously a bounty hunter - in spite of his luxurious attire, the human man had a rugged look to his face and the protrusions under his clothes were revealing of his carrying a hidden arsenal. Now dripping with neon-green liquor, he stood up with a calm but deadly anger in his eyes, his menacing figure silhouetted against the glowing seaweed ceiling.
He turned to the burly Morigenian. "You,” he hissed in a threatening tone. “Your clumsy brutish inadequacy ruined my suit, and my friends’ very expensive outfits. If you value your limbs, you’ll apologize and pay the damage-right now." He cracked his knuckles ominously, his moves unveiling a glimpse of his many holstered weapons.
"Me? It was all HER fault!" roared the immense orange alien in outrage, pointing a menacing clawed finger at Clara, who was still sprawled on the floor a few metres away, her hair in disarray, her face covered in cream, and her ruined dress’ shimmer merged with the bioluminescent food making her gleam like a human disco ball.
The hapless girl quickly evaluated the menace and thought on her feet - though she was still on all fours, desperate to regain her footing on the sticky, slippery food-covered floor. "Oh, sure," she shot back in exasperation. "Why not? Blame the nearest human. Classic."
"Indeed, classic," the bounty hunter confirmed with a grimace of disdain towards the giant, his eyes aglow with cold-blooded fury. He calmly picked up the heavy metal tray that had ruined his table, and whacked the orange guy in the face with it, with such force that the colossal mass of flesh was propelled into a table half a dozen metres away, toppling all its content and three of the clients sitting there.
“Miserable Morigenian moron,” he concluded with a mix of hate and contempt, throwing the tray away dismissively.
He held out a chivalrous hand to help Clara to her feet, but the Morigenian’s companion latched out upon him, encircling him with a pair of purple tentacles. The mercenary reacted with lightning quick martial skills, with a kick into its lower limbs that sent the assailant reeling. He winked apologetically at Clara as he abandoned his helping attitude, instead drawing a powered tonfa and turning his attention to the rest of the room, in anticipation of a full-scaled brawl.
Which was the right move for him. His own friends were already butting heads with other confused and angry patrons, and the Morigenian was slowly regaining his footing, wiping the blood from his face and marching towards him with murder in his eyes. While most people were moving towards the exits, some were preparing for retaliation towards one or the other group, a few of them acting out with disproportionate hostility.
In just a couple of seconds, the situation escalated into a full-on confused melee. The once-elegant restaurant became the scene of an interstellar food fight and bar brawl - tentacles flailed, claws slashed, and plates of food flew like missiles, while most sane patrons tried to escape from the sudden outburst of violence.
5. Clones are notoriously unreliable!
Alarra had leapt into action, dodging a flung crab cake and reaching for Clara. "Clara. Are you OK? We need to move!"
"You think? Just help me stand, and let's get out of here."
The Morrigenian’s mate, still struggling with one of the bounty hunter’s allies, broke the grasp and began screaming, pointing an accusatory limb at the two women:
“Look! They’re absolutely similar! They’re clones! That’s proof! They were the ones to initiate it all. Clones are notoriously unreliable!”
He fell down as a chair flew into his face, but a couple of patrons’ attention went to the couple, and they had to fling themselves to the ground to dodge a few food projectiles and incoming vindictive prejudiced screams. They turned around, and began fleeing in another direction, trying to avoid the unwanted attention.
Their path was suddenly blocked by a waiter clutching a massive tray of steamy wobbling soufflés, who was also trying to avoid the melee. In vain: someone bumped into him, and the entire tray tipped forward, sending his entire cargo towards Clara and Alarra. They only had time to cover their faces from the blunt of the soufflés that went splattering like alien fireworks onto various surfaces… including the two women's dresses, thankfully shielded from the heat by the pastries in which they were already covered.
People hit by the searing hot food started screaming and fleeing in panic, adding to the general chaos. A chair flew overhead, narrowly missing Alarra’s head. "This way!" she shouted, pulling Clara towards an exit she had spotted.
The roof was occupied by a particularly large squid-like creature, whose suction cups were firmly attached to the unfortunate central chandelier. The luxurious suspended structure groaned under the weight, vines snapping and cascading from the roof down onto the room below, while the alien shouted insults and threw vines at whoever seemed to threaten him. That seemed like the only obstacle to their escape route, and so they ran under the creature, through the rain of seaweeds and algae that fell from the roof upon them, some of which became entwined with their hair.
The floor was so slippery, and food and projectiles were flying through so many directions, that they felt like they were trying to navigate through the storm of a particularly surreal battlefield.
Alarra tripped over a pile of algae and landed face-first into a dish full of glowing sea food mixed with vines fallen from the ceiling. She emerged looking like she’d just fought off a bioluminescent sea monster, her hair tangled with glowing strands and pitiful weeds.
"Are you okay?" Clara asked, stifling a laugh as Alarra seemed unharmed, but pieces of unidentified organic matter dripped from her hair.
"Never better," Alarra deadpanned with a smirk, tossing the vine aside and grabbing Clara’s hand. "Come on!"
6. You’re radiant
By the time Clara and Alarra managed to make their way out of the restaurant, the local police were arriving, including Thalassian and human officers, barging into the restaurant, armed with stunning weapons and shields to try and put a halt to the mayhem. The two women ducked and hid from them, but the cops were not interested in the fleeing patrons, instead focusing on those who were actively fighting.
They proceeded to leave the scene as fast as possible, still breathless and wanting to distance themselves from the chaos and the most vindictive patrons. As they were running through the nearby alleyway, they tripped over some weeds or other debris and fell, ending up sprawled on the floor, soaked in glowing mist, covered in various food and pastries, half tangled in bioluminescent vines, their precious dresses in tatters. They tried to get back up, catching their breath, leaning against a railing overlooking the glowing waters, but everything was so slippery and entangled that they had a hard time regaining their footing.
"I swear this isn’t how Thalassians usually behave," Alarra said, trying to untangle herself.
"I’m a mess, aren’t I?" Clara asked breathlessly, contemplating the disaster of her attire.
"You’re radiant," Alarra replied sincerely.
Her genuine admiration for Clara’s beautiful eyes and gorgeous allure more than balanced out the obvious fact that they would probably need hours to clean up after this misadventure.
Clara's eyes, as pretty as they were, were also alight with suppressed amusement, matching Alarra's absolute glee and fun she had just had.
They couldn't stifle their chuckles, and they simultaneously burst out laughing, falling into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
Their once-elegant outfits were a wreck, but neither of them seemed to care anymore.
Eventually, Clara managed to catch her breath. "This… this is the worst date I’ve ever been on," she said, still giggling. "But also... bizarrely, one of the best, too."
As Alarra regained part of her composure, she turned to Clara, her expression soft. "Likewise. It was… disastrous, but kind of amazing."
Clara looked at her, the amusement in her eyes gradually replaced by fondness and attraction. "Indeed. Amazing." Though the compliment seemed to be more destined to the sight than to the previous experience.
Alarra hesitated for a moment, then asked, "So… does this mean you’re up for this outing I proposed? I promise there will be no floating plates nor dessert dispenser machines."