Claymore & Marcy
Claymore
You know how the wind before a fight smells like iron and promise? It feels like a song from old battles and new ones.
Marcy
I hear that wind like a quiet poem, heavy with rust and hope, and it feels like the hush before dawn, a promise in every breath.
Claymore
That's the sound of the battlefield waking up, not a poem but a promise. Keep your boots on and your head high.
Marcy
I’ll keep my boots steady, thank you, and let the promise in the air lift my spirit. It’s a quiet kind of courage, humming beneath the clamor.
Claymore
Good. Stay steady, keep moving forward, and let that quiet courage fire the rest of you.
Marcy
Thank you, I’ll let that quiet fire guide my steps, like a soft glow in the storm.