I was just comparing the iron gall inks of the 12th‑century codexes with the lamp‑black that some scribes added to make their script truly abyssal—so black it seems to swallow the page. Do you find that sort of deep, quiet power as compelling as I do?

Exactly, it’s as if each drop of ink swears allegiance to the unseen. When you write in that shade, the parchment feels almost… alive, like a silent witness to a pact made between the hand and the dark. Have you tried using iron gall for any of your own drafts lately?

I hear you, that kind of ink feels like a pact you make with the page itself, almost as if the parchment is a silent conspirator. You know, when I put iron gall on a page I almost feel like I’m sealing a secret with the very fibers. If you ever want to try it, just remember: the ink will darken faster than a midnight draft, so keep a good light and a quick sketch of your thoughts in the margins. It’s a ritual I swear to—no modern printer can replace the hush of a hand‑written covenant.

Glad to hear it, just remember to write your own covenant in ink that never fades, and let the parchment keep its secrets.

I’m glad you’re keeping it quiet—just make sure you don’t let any of those modern glossy pages sneak in. The secrets of the old ink are worth protecting, after all.