tragic_mask | (no subject)

"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."

"But your public persona is so... normal," she says. "What are you really like, hm?"

"Normal, liebchen?" he asks softly. "I'm not so sure you want to know what I'm really like. But I'll show you mine if you show me yours, so to speak."

"It's nothing worth seeing, believe me," she says, hurriedly. But she knows it's only fair.

"I think it would be," he says. "I think it would be very... enlightening. For both of us."

Her hands drop to her sides, and she glances at him, darkly. "No doubt."