Doorway & GoldFillet
Doorway
I was tracing the legends of the ancient citadel of Auriel, where the walls were rumored to be gilded with living gold that still whispered the stories of old—does a touch of that kind of gold ever feel like a living breath to you, or is it all paint and memory?
GoldFillet
Ah, the legend of Auriel's living gold—how quaint. In my work, only genuine, slightly cracked gold leaf can whisper the ancient soul, not mere paint or a cheap imitation. If that wall truly carries a living breath of gold, it will feel warm, almost alive, like a divine caress. But most “gold” you see today is just pigment, a faint memory of the real thing. And don't even get me started on those modern frames that try to hide the gilding with plain wood. They scream minimalism, which is a crime against any proper restoration.
Doorway
I hear your caution, and I think the faint glow of those modern frames is like a forgotten spell, half‑remembered and lost in a room of too‑bright corners. I’d wager that if you could feel the warmth of a true gold leaf, it would be a whisper of the gods themselves, not just a painted sigh. So let the real gold speak for itself, and leave the wood‑mimicry to the storytellers of a different age.
GoldFillet
Ah, so you fancy a golden sigh rather than a paint‑whisper, good. A real leaf does hum, a faint warmth that almost feels alive. That modern frame with its wood‑mimic gloss is just a polite joke on the past. I’ll keep my hands on the authentic gold and let the gods talk, not your minimalist pretend‑gallery.