tragic_mask | (no subject)

"Well, all right," she says.

They come into sight, between two buildings and at some distance, of the falls. "Hey, see that?"

"And us with no barrels," he says with a quiet chuckle. "But our collective sense of direction is spot-on."

"Clearly," she says, "You are a good man to have around."

"You say that now... but will you still think so after you've seen the interminable holiday pictures I am about to take?" he asks.

She looks askance at him.

"I'd like to think so."

"'And this is my beloved, on the overlook near the falls. And this is ten seconds later, when she is looking a little bit to the left. And a few seconds later, discovering that our guidebook has been soaked by the water. And a few seconds later, telling me that that's quite enough pictures of her at this spot. And a few seconds later--yes, that's her hand in front of the camera.'" He grins.

She grins, too.

"At least there's none of 'she's not in the shot here, because she's accidentally fallen into the waterfall.'"

"Oh, no," he agrees. "If that were to happen, I'd put the camera down and go in after you."

A pause.

"Or give the camera to someone else, so we'd have some genuinely dramatic pictures to inflict on others."

"Even better... we'd have some genuine bewildered-Japanese-tourist photos to show all our friends."

"We will have to get someone to take pictures of the two of us together," he says with a smile. "But you're still not going to go over the falls. No barrels, no bowls, nothing."

She sighs.

"Just don't let me too near the edge, and I guess I won't."

"You sound so disappointed," he murmurs. "Are we going to have to take a separate waterfall-diving vacation?"

"Maybe," she says, looking sheepish. "At this rate, we'll be spending all our time on vacations."

"...can you think of a better way to spend our time?" he asks. "Alone together, away from our everyday responsibilities, able to be as free as we'd like..."

"Yes, well, I can't neglect my duties forever," she says, almost bitterly.

"Can't you?" he asks softly. "You have none, in my world, as I have none in yours. Whether either of us has one in the bar is up for debate."

"You don't think I'm needed?" she says. "Then I'd like someone to have told me that I could leave."

"Of course you are needed," he murmurs. "But if no time passes here while you are gone, what difference does it make to them? And, hopefully, quite a bit of difference to you."

"Well, we're still in the world, and time is passing," she says, uncertainly. "Unless there's something I don't know about."

"What exactly are your duties?" he asks. "If you were to do them while here on vacation... what would you do? If it isn't too personal to ask."

"Well... I'd skulk in dark places where the potential for authorship might be, and inspire or change or correct, or take the idea of writing out of their heads if it's really awful."

"We could always do it together," he says. "It might be fun."

She responds hesitantly. "But... it consumes me. I try not to let it be everything I am, so if it infiltrated the vacation..."

"...do you think I could be enough of a distraction for you, if you started to get carried away with it?"

"I guess there's only one way to find out," she says, thoughtfully, looking around at the street, seeing the colors of the minds around them.