tragic_mask | (no subject)

"...I just may have to work more slowly, then," he says with a small smile. "I hope it won't be too draining for you, the modeling."

"Oh, no," she says earnestly. "I make a great statue. Really, I'll be the best one you ever had."

"Be careful," he says. "I could admire you for days on end. I'm not sure you'd want to model for quite that long. Especially when I wouldn't even have bronze with me for all that time--just admiring you."

She shoots him a look. "Well, then, there'd be no statue... I doubt I could sit there forever, with you not at least pretending to be making a statue."

"There would be one, eventually," he says, "but to be able to craft something properly, one must first study it, understand it from many different angles. Which is what I would want to do."

"I see," she says, skeptical. "But I'm sure you can do that while I'm mobile, can't you?" She give an explanatory spin.

"Mobile and conversational, I would hope," he says. "I like looking at you, I like speaking with you, I like just being in your presence."

"I'll try to be a witty conversationalist, then."

"Be any way you'd like to be," he says. "I will enjoy it. I hope you will also."

He is worried, of course. She's so hard for him to read, and with any change in relationship there's a chance the change isn't for the better.

"Natürlich," she says, with a smile.

"Fabelhaft," he murmurs, leaning in for a quick (and rain-soaked) kiss on the cheek.

The boat clears the waterfall, and starts heading back for the dock. She wipes a bit of mist from her cheek, leans over the boat to watch the water below.

He takes a few more pictures, not really aiming them very well, but wanting to finish off the roll of film in the camera.

The mood has changed, but he's trying his best to maintain the pretense of it, at least until the boat ride is over.

And, no doubt, there will be some amazing pictures in the mix.

They disembark, milling among the other tourists, and finally emerge.

"Well, that was an adventure."

"It was," he agrees, shedding his souvenir poncho. "I can see why it's such a popular honeymoon spot."

"Is it?" she says, non-commital, but taking his arm again as they move through the throngs.

"So they say," he nods, walking with her. "I think it's the feeling of danger--of being that close to something that primal, that natural, that could kill them so easily. Either that, or it's a destination with something to see, but not so much to see that one would have to waste a lot of valuable bedroom time to see it, unless one were so inclined."

"Both are good reasons," she says with a laugh. "I think most people go for the second. 'Seen the waterfall? Okay, good. Now let's get back to the room.'"

He grins. "And you can buy souvenirs for people, get in and back out in about twenty minutes, go buy some wine, and then back to bed. You can also see it at night, if you're busy all day."

"It's a little scary how much thought it seems you've put into this," she says, quirking a brow. "I can only you assume you have designs on me, having steered me towards this vacation."

"I wouldn't object, you know," he says, "but I give you my word, it was not my purpose for this vacation. I only wanted to get you away from the city."

"Well, it worked," she says. "But... there are still people here, and I still remember what I am. I think Milliways is the only escape. Maybe because I have no... obligations there."

"We can always try St. Paul, if you're feeling brave," he murmurs. "But some things, once seen, are very hard to un-see. I'm not sure if you'd want to do that yet."

"You're only piquing my curiosity, you know."

"I've got... company, there," he says. "Company that might make you think less of me. They're harmless, though."