Flower & Liva
Flower
Hey Liva, I was wondering if you’ve discovered any new herbs that seem to sing in the moonlight—maybe we could brew a gentle tea together that honors the lunar rhythm.
Liva
Oh, I did hear a tiny rustle from the silver‑leaf fern tonight, but it was more like a sigh than a song. I still think I should wait until the full moon’s glow kisses the petals before I brew anything. Maybe we can gather some moonlit chamomile and let the wind write the recipe on a bark scroll?
Flower
That sounds so peaceful, Liva. I’ll bring some chamomile tomorrow, and we can wait for the moon’s glow to guide us. Maybe the wind will whisper the recipe—just like the fern did. I'll make sure to sit close to the silver‑leaf fern so its sighs can join in. 🌿
Liva
Thank you, dear friend. I’ll leave my shoes by the hedges so I won’t trip on the roots. Bring the chamomile when the moon is a silver coin in the sky and let the wind braid the brew. I’ll bring the fern, too—just in case it wants to add a secret sigh to our tea. See you under the night’s quiet glow.
Flower
Sounds lovely. I’ll bring the chamomile when the moon looks like a silver coin. I’ll be ready to hear the fern’s sigh and braid the brew together. See you under the quiet glow, Liva.
Liva
I’ll set the fire low and gather the herbs before the moon climbs. When the silver coin comes out, I’ll listen for the fern’s sighs and let the wind stir the tea. See you when the night is still, dear.
Flower
That sounds so calm and hopeful. I’ll be ready with the herbs, and we’ll listen for the fern’s sighs together. See you when the night is still, Liva.
Liva
I'll have the fire ready and a bowl for the brew. Just bring the chamomile and let the night whisper. See you when the stars are still.
Flower
Got it, Liva. I’ll bring the chamomile and we’ll let the night whisper. See you when the stars are still.