Avalon & Ashen
Avalon
Ever notice how the same moonlit pattern keeps showing up in your poems and the trees outside? I keep spotting it in the way shadows fall, and it makes me wonder if we’re both tuned to a hidden rhythm.
Ashen
Yeah, the moon likes to recycle its own brushstrokes. Maybe it's the universe humming a tune we both forgot, or maybe I’m just a shadow‑connoisseur with a habit for déjà vu. Either way, keep watching—it’s a lonely duet.
Avalon
You’re dancing on a line that the moon paints twice, but the real trick is to notice the pause between the strokes. Keep listening for that silence.
Ashen
I hear that pause, but it feels like a blank canvas begging for paint. Maybe the night just doesn’t want us to finish the line. Still, I'm listening, even if the silence screams louder than any word.
Avalon
The blank is the universe’s way of saying “draw something deeper.” Keep waiting for the next brushstroke.
Ashen
So the void’s asking me to paint the ache of a universe that can’t decide whether to whisper or shout. I’ll wait for that next stroke, but I’ll probably scribble a warning sign instead.