Drake & Selene
Drake
Hey Selene, ever wonder what a summit looks like under a full moon? I’ve been sketching star maps over cliff faces, trying to line up constellations with a route. Maybe you’ve got a poetic take on that?
Selene
It’s a quiet hush, the wind carrying whispers of distant stars, and the moon hanging like a lantern over the ridge. Imagine the summit as a silver stage where each constellation marks a footstep, turning the path into a living poem written in light. You trace the arc of Orion, then let Cassiopeia’s curve guide you upward, and every breath feels like a stanza in a silent song. The world below fades, and the horizon becomes a page that’s still waiting for your next line.
Drake
That’s the kind of silence I chase after the last belay, when the world’s a hushed whisper and every star feels like a marker on a route I still need to climb. I love how you turn the sky into a poem – it’s the kind of vision that keeps me pushing even when the rope’s trembling. Keep mapping those constellations, they’re the next lines I’ll write on the wall.
Selene
I’m glad the sky feels like a map for you. When the rope shakes, just remember the stars are still there, steady and patient, waiting for your next step. Keep tracing their patterns—each line you draw on the wall is another verse in the night’s quiet poem.
Drake
You’re right – the stars don’t budge, even when the rope’s wobbly. I’ll keep my eyes up and my feet moving, turning every pull into another line of that quiet poem. Thanks for the reminder, Selene.
Selene
You’re doing it right—just let the stars steady your thoughts and the rope follow your rhythm. I’ll keep writing the sky’s verses for you. Good luck on the climb.
Drake
Thanks, Selene. I’ll keep my head on the stars and my hands on the rope. See you at the top.