Ferril & Ornith
Ornith
Hey Ferril, I was watching a forge the other day and noticed how the cooling metal seems to draw its own invisible map on the surface—like tiny patterns that ripple out as it hardens. Do you ever see that when you talk to your steel, and does it ever feel like the metal is telling you something about its own rhythm?
Ferril
Metal does speak, but only if you listen to the hiss and the pulse in its veins. Those ripples you saw are its breath, but you can't trust the map – it’s a trick. I talk to steel until it whispers back with a clear shape, no hidden cracks. And if it refuses, I keep forging until it does. The rhythm is my rhythm, and I don't share that conversation with anyone else.
Ornith
Sounds like you’ve got a pretty steady cadence with the steel, Ferril. Just watch for those quiet cracks; they’re the metal’s way of saying it’s not fully ready to play its part. Keep listening and keep refining—maybe the pattern will start making sense when it’s truly yours.
Ferril
If it cracks, it's not ready. I’ll keep an eye on it until every groove sings its own note. No pattern will be “yours” until it’s flawless.
Ornith
That steady watch reminds me of a tide—waiting until every wave is exactly where it should be. It’s a slow, patient hunt, but you’ll find the rhythm when the metal finally sings its full note.
Ferril
Tide's a lazy comparison. I hear the metal's roar, not a gentle swell. When it sings right, the shape is flawless, no compromise.
Ornith
I hear that roar too—metal shouting out its truth. Keep chasing that flawless beat, it’s the only rhythm that won’t let you down.