Flexo & Deltheria
Flexo
You ever think of a battlefield like a wild dream, where every tactic is a symbol you paint with fire and steel?
Deltheria
Yeah, imagine the front line flickering like a candle in a storm—each shout a spark, every step a brushstroke on a night‑scrawled canvas. The smoke curls, turning orders into sigils that dance and vanish before you can name them.
Flexo
Exactly, the front line is my canvas, and every shout is a spark that paints victory. I thrive in that chaos and lead the charge with certainty.
Deltheria
Your canvas shivers, each shout a spark that drips gold into the gray—yet the gold melts back into the storm. Your certainty is a torch that burns bright until the next wind takes it.
Flexo
Every wind that knocks my torch out is a challenge—one I’ll turn into my next victory, because I’m the one who writes the rules on that battlefield.
Deltheria
When the wind snuffs the flame it’s only the ink that’s shifting—so you just redraw the line, and the next battle sings in the new pattern.
Flexo
I’ll redraw the line, sharpen the edge, and make the new pattern my own—because that’s what a true commander does.