tragic_mask | (no subject)

"Quite a devastating water hazard," he says, "but the light show when you get the ball into the windmill is worth it. No, that was a different brochure--mixed in there by accident. We can, however, take both the regular boat and the jet if you want."

"That's okay by me. I'd love to be close to the water," she says. "As you may have guessed, from my desire to go down the falls in a barrel."

"The more you talk about that, the more tempting it is," he says, watching her for a moment. "If you want to do it--if you really, truly do--then by all means, we can."

"I'll wait and see if motor boats quench my desire," she says.

"It will be exciting," he says. "We should buy our tickets. Would you like to see the brochures?"

"I trust you."

"I'm glad," he murmurs, and moves toward the gift shop to buy the camera and tickets for the boat.

She follows along, looking around at all the tourists as she goes.

They are mostly family groups; it's that kind of place.

Well, it's also a place for honeymooning, but not the right time of day for couples to be out of their hotel rooms yet.

"We should buy a couple cameras," he says. "Three sound good?"

"Sure. We can always buy more cameras," she says.

"They sell them everywhere," he nods. "Better be careful... I may take a picture of you tomorrow morning, when you've just woken up and your hair is all over the place."

"Oh, that wouldn't be very nice at all." She shakes a finger at him.

"Easily fixed, if you wake up before I do again," he says. "You could take pictures of me when I'm sleeping, and threaten me with blackmail."

"Hmmm. No, I don't think they'd make compelling blackmail pictures, really."

"It might be if you got my tattoo in the picture," he murmurs, as though it's some sort of secret he's trying to hide.

She raises a brow.

"I didn't know tattoos added so much to the value of the picture."

"It depends on your intended target," he says. "When one's family is old-fashioned... Uncle Max has one, but then he was a sailor. It's acceptable for him. Clearly I am becoming degenerate since moving to the city."

"Clearly," she says, shaking her head woefully.

"Which one of us is the bad influence again? Or who's the bad influence today, at least. I think I'm feeling nefarious."

"Hmmm. Could be you," she says with a smile. "I'm feeling quite angelic, myself."

"And you look it, too," he says, studying her. "When I do that bronze statue of you, it may be of you as an angel."

She ponders. "That could be fun. Having feathers, like a bird."

"Golden feathers," he says, eyes half-closed. "Golden and bronze. Like Daedalus, but better--and much more attractive. Yes, I can see it now..."

"Well, I would hope more attractive than Daedalus," she murmurs. "It wouldn't take much."

"I never met the man," he says. "But I imagine a certain amount of wildness to his appearance--living on an island with just his son and his crafting, he would have to be. Men in the wilderness have different standards than women in the wilderness. Let us go to the wilderness sometime, and you'll see."