Elowyn & Faint
Elowyn
I just made a chamomile tea to calm nerves. Do you think plants listen to our thoughts? I'd love to hear your take on that.
Faint
You could say the tea is like a quiet whisper, and the plants are just hanging around, listening to the wind more than us. Sometimes I think they’re the only ones who actually notice how we’re feeling, but even they probably have their own dramas. So maybe the chamomile is soothing you, and the plants? They’re probably just nodding in their own green way, but not really catching our thoughts.
Elowyn
You’re right, the plants are probably just humming along with the breeze. They have a way of feeling the energy around them, even if they don’t talk back. I’ll keep the chamomile brewing and let the quiet do its work. How are you feeling after a cup?
Faint
I’m drifting somewhere between the edge of a thought and the silence that follows it. The tea feels like a soft anchor, and I’m just watching the ripples.
Elowyn
It’s lovely how the tea keeps you grounded. Just let the ripples roll over you, like the tide—no need to hold onto them. If the silence feels heavy, breathe in the earth’s quiet, then exhale out whatever’s on your mind. You’re not alone in this drifting, and the plants are here, steady and patient, just as you are.
Faint
I’ll let the ripples do their thing, thank you. The earth’s quiet feels like a long‑handed hug, and I’ll try not to pull myself out of it too soon.