"What if the pretty redhead in the office next door was an elf?"
"There's this redheaded Elf woman, at work, she's very pretty, and she's Sapphic. You'd like her."
"Oh? What does she do?"
"She's the eye-candy receptionist, but Elves don't really have to work, they're all rich due to their long-term investments. They're the epitome of The Beautiful Elite. She works for fun."
"She's probably stuck up and snooty and is probably already partnered with some unearthly beautiful glowy Elf supermodel, or something."
"Naah, she's sweet and non-snooty. She complains about not having had a date since the McKinley administration back in 1898."
"What? She's over a century old? Why hasn't she had a date?"
"She says other elves think she's too obsessed with human fashion and likes shoes way too much. She says she's much too quirky and not 'ethereal' enough. Also she's not Elven aristocracy, most of those flit around in diaphanous gowns in their Treehouse Eld-mansions in gated communities."
"She sounds like she's out of my league."
"You should give her a call, I have her number."
"How did you get her number?"
"She gave it to me when she helped me with a move."
"Okay, Ill call."
She'd just got home from work, when she got the call. Her date had got her number from that nice fellow from work she'd helped with a move to a new apartment. A Date... after 100 years. And the call was from one of those interesting human women, who were quite unlike those prissy jerks back home in the Eldemar Gardens Community. Huzzah, as those lovable steampunkers would say.
Now...what was she going to wear. Her date had mentioned wanting to see her wings. She didn't have the heart to tell her that elves didn't actually have wings, that some elves magicked them up and wore them as a fashion accessory. It's not that she blamed her date, most humans didn't actually know that much about the differences between Elves and Fae.
She decided on a simple black cocktail dress...and went ahead and magicked up some wings. After some thought, she put on a pair of sandals with wings. If some butterfly-winged Fae flitting about, thought she was appropriating their fluttery adorableness, fie on them. She'd wear what she wanted... after centuries of conservative hoity-toity Elven aristocracy saying that elven women needed to be all glowy, medieval-y and diadem-y....she'd had enough. Glowy sparkly magickalness was all well and good, but everything in moderation. Besides, human fashion was fun because it changed.
She decided to meet her date at one of her favorite women-centric social venues, called the [e bar]. She sat at the bar, nervously wringing her fingers. It had been a long time since she'd done anything in the romantic vein.