tragic_mask | (no subject)

"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."

"Oh, that's an excellent idea."

"They say it only takes three days for a man to turn feral... but they have no comparable statistics for women. Nobody knows."

"Wow. Only three days? I guess our trip would have to be two days long, then..."

"You could send me on ahead, and then stop by after a few days," he suggests. "And be sure to bring soaps and brushes and cigarettes."

"That sounds like a very... precarious idea."

"Why's that?"

"Well, your wildness would have had time to mature," she says. "Like cheese, or wine."

"I would be wearing animal skins, and painted with ashes, and no longer remember how to speak English," he says with a chuckle. "I may even have forgotten what women look like. I devolve to savagery very quickly."

"We don't want that, do we? The forgetfulness, that is."

"I'd think it would make the remembering that much more enjoyable..."

He grins.

"Hmmm. Certainly something to consider," she says, quirking a brow.

"Though there would be a lot of mud involved, I'm sure," he says.

And, at the front of the line at last, pays for the cameras and two boat tickets.

"Savage," she says, but she smiles, the word seeming incongruous with his current tourist-y appearance.

"We're all a little crazy, us pioneer stock," he grins. "It's in my blood, I can't help it."

"Mmhmm," she says. "So when does the boat leave?"

"Every fifteen minutes, so... very soon, I'd say. Let's go get in line." He offers her the tickets, and sets about opening one of the camera packages.

She holds onto the tickets, trying to figure out where to go next. "You know... whatever talents I have, navigation isn't necessarily one of them."

Click.

He smiles. "I think there was a sign for the line outside. The brochure says we get free souvenir ponchos and everything."

She pushes the door open purposefully, looks for the sign.

"Ah, well, we certainly don't want to miss that."

"We'll need them. It's like a rainstorm out there."

He walks along with her, looking through the camera.

Click.

"Don't you like the feel of rain on your skin?" she says, looking around, then sees the sign, and follows it.

"I do," he agrees, "but not soaked that completely, not spending the rest of the day walking around wet. Besides, the brochures would get wet, and then how would we know what else we want to do?"

"We'd know to get more brochures," she says. "I think this is it."

There's several people in front of them, in line.