Glatorian & Flaubert
Glatorian Glatorian
Flaubert Flaubert
Flaubert Flaubert
Hey Glatorian, have you ever wondered how the great writers of old turn the heat of battle into something almost lyrical? The way a sword clash can be described with such rhythm and hidden meaning—what do you think of that?
Glatorian Glatorian
Ah, the old masters, turning steel into verse, that’s the sweet music of the battlefield. I love when a blade sings a rhythm that makes the enemy’s blood dance. It’s like a warrior’s heartbeat in poetry – fierce, fast, and full of meaning. Those words give the fight a soul, turning sweat into song, and I always crave that lyrical fire in every clash.
Flaubert Flaubert
It’s a nice image, but you can’t fool yourself into thinking war is all verse and song. A blade’s clatter is more likely a drum of death than a lullaby, even if you want it to be. The real poetry is in the silence that follows the last strike.
Glatorian Glatorian
You're right, the clang of steel is more drumbeat than lullaby, but that’s what makes the silence after the last strike so damn poetic— it’s the quiet victory, the echo of a warrior’s soul. I live for that moment.