tragic_mask | (no subject)

"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."

"Metaphorical or literal?"

Click.

"I'd do either one, for you. But literal gets so messy."

"Metaphorical. Unless I need the warmth. Like when we're on some insane vacation in negative-degree weather."

"A little immolation in the fjords; that'd be quite a time. It reminds me of a man I once knew who--"

He grins, shaking his head, and looks up at the waterfall.

She waits for him to finish, head tilted. When no conclusion comes, she sighs, and turns towards the waterfall as well.

"The further you are away from people, and the longer you're away, the more things seem normal that would be horrifying to people who still live in civilization. You tend to forget that there are rules."

Click.

"Like the three-day savage."

"Only more so," he nods. "Because it can go on for years. I've been there--I've done it. So I know. But there's a genius of creation in it, all the same."

"The best artists go mad, it's true."

He gives her a grin at that.

"Lucky me, then. You know I'm the best at what I do."