sixwordstories | (no subject)

Oh. I could believe it. [His smile is lopsided and he toys with his walking stick, tapping it against the ground restlessly]

What are you doing today, O Lady of Modernity?

Nothing. And would you believe it Herr Stiefel? [ Ilse spins into the room, heels clicking against the wooden floor of their (small, small, small) two bedroom residence. She smiles widely when she reaches him. ]

I am entirely at your disposal.

I am shocked.

[He can hear her shoes on the wooden floor and reaches out a hand when she stops, trying to reach her without moving from his chair.]

I also have nothing to do today. But I never have anything to do.

[ She moves just an inch closer, letting her wrist slide into his hand before she takes it in her own. ]

Impossible, considering how entertaining I am. [ With a small laugh, she kneels before him, placing her palm over the hand that clutches his walking stick. She is in an especially cheery mood, having brought in more than enough money for the next two weeks. ] Shall I read you a story?

[Moritz traces a hand up her arm, her shoulder, to stroke her hair with a small smile.]

Tell me about work. Are you a famous actress yet?

[ She smiles fondly and leans into his hand, extending her own to touch his cheek. ]

Famous in my head, perhaps. I still appear on canvas more than I appear onstage, Moritz.

Some day one of your artists will recommend you to playwright, and you'll become someone's muse. You'll be Ophelia, and Desdemona, and Juliet.

[He closes his eyes and leans into the touch.] You'll have to recite all your speeches for me, since I couldn't come see the play.

[ Ilse smiles bashfully, with a small sigh through her nose. ] I shall sit in your lap and recite the entire play. By memory. Or - ! [ She gasps, sitting up straighter as an idea comes to her. ]

I'd sit you in the wings so you can hear everything. I know you will be perfectly still and no one will trip over you.

You're certain? You don't think I'll get in the way at all -- I'm sure everyone's very busy, they won't need me underfoot.

Do trust me, Moritz. I will make sure of it, that you can stay with me.

[ She sits up and leans in to brush her red lips over his cheek, leaving the slightest stain. ] Once I am cast, that is. Until then, we won't worry about that.

[He rubs at his cheek with a smile] You got something on me, I can feel it.

And I always trust you, Ilse.

I've painted my lips! They are the rubiest of reds and now your cheek is as well.

[ Ilse giggles softly and rubs his cheek with the pad of her thumb. ] And still handsome as ever.

[His smile turns sad and he reaches out to touch her lips, tracing the shape of them] I wish I could see.

[ She shakes her head quickly, smiling under his fingertips because she wants him to feel the curve, the action. She wants him to be happier. ]

Kiss me instead, Moritz.

[He misses her mouth a little on the first try, getting just the corner of it before he kisses her properly]

[ It warms her to know that he is at least more at ease in initiating such things because she so loves to kiss him, and doesn't let him go so quickly. A kiss is pressed to the corner of his mouth before she rests her forehead against his. ]

Let us lay in bed with the window open and listen to the breeze and the birds. Would you like that?

[The kisses always fluster him -- sometimes only a little, sometimes quite a bit, depending on how forward Isle is feeling that day. But he tries, because he wants to please her so very much

He clears his throat and nods, unclenching the hand he hadn't realized was fisted against his thigh]

Yes -- yes that sounds very nice.

[ She kisses his forehead as she rises to her feet. ] We can lay perfectly still while I tell you stories. [ And perhaps she may grow bolder, the longer they rest, but for now she is content with more innocent tasks.

Slowly, Ilse reaches for his hands to help him to his feet. ]