tragic_mask | (no subject)

"I will definitely keep you in mind," she says. "Though I don't really make acquaintances with such ease."

"Acquaintances," he says with a shrug, "distant relatives... I often feel obligated."

"Well, then, it's a good thing you have so many clocks." She smiles.

"It is," he agrees. "And good that it's so easy to make new ones. Also, music boxes--but those, you need to know something about a person's taste, to choose just the right song. Or the most perfectly inappropriate one, depending on your mood. I'd be lying if I said I'd never gone in that direction."

She quirks a brow.

"I've never seen a music box that was tailored to my tastes. Maybe that's why I never liked them. Or maybe it's because they remind me of my sister."

"What would it need, to be tailored to your tastes?" he asks. "Any favorite song, or... is it just the fact that it's music, that reminds you of your sister? I could make one that wouldn't remind you of her at all, I would wager."

"It just couldn't be anything like the music I've ever heard from one of those things. Mesmerizing, and faintly disturbing. Encapsulates her well, I think."

"Which sister would that be?" he asks. "So I know what to avoid. Although a music box without music... would just be a mechanical box. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"A magic box!" she says. Then: "Euterpe. But it's hard to tell them apart."

"If I were ever to meet your sisters," he says, "unless they went around with name tags or demonstrating their particular skills, I doubt I'd ever be able to tell any of them apart. But there's only one that matters, anyway."

"Flattery," she murmurs, but smiles, briefly.

"I'd suggest you stay away from them entirely," she adds. "I've seen several of them in the bar."

"Because you don't get along with them?" he asks. "Or because one of us would have something to fear from the other? I would never side with them against you, nor would I tell them anything you may have said about them or yourself."

"More because..."

She pauses, trying to explain. "They're... nice. On top. If you'd met them already, you wouldn't believe anything bad about them."

"You'll find I'm very loyal," he murmurs. "I would take your side over almost anyone else's. Even if there were proof that you were wrong, which I do not believe there could be. I would not believe them."

"And what if your loyalty is misplaced?" she asks, looking up at him. "What then?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," he says, meeting her gaze. "But it wouldn't change my decision. I don't give loyalty lightly, and once it is given, I don't take it back."

"Well, I won't let you down," she says, putting her arms around his neck. "I couldn't."

"I know," he murmurs, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. "You've been nothing but wonderful, so far."

"I'm really just a burnt marshmallow," she says. "Crispy on top, but soft in the middle."

"You're so much more than that," he says. "And marshmallows and fire just go together, don't they? I hope I don't make you crispy."

He takes the camera back out, glancing up at the ever-approaching waterfall. "You're about to be a soggy marshmallow, anyway..."

She laughs, hearing the roar of the waterfall. "Well, I guess that will solve all our marshmallow problems-- if you accidentally set me on fire, for example."

"I never set anyone on fire by accident," he chuckles, and takes a few pictures of the falls.

Holding the camera at a bit of an angle, which is exaggerated by the tossing of the boat as it crosses the churning water.

"Ah, so you do set them on fire purposefully?" she asks, looking out at the falls.

"Wow, this is really beautiful up close," she says.

"...sometimes," he admits, lining up another picture.

"Usually metaphorically, though."

"I'd like to see that."