Grimfinn & LunarMuse
Grimfinn
I was walking by the river when the water started humming a tune only the old fish could hear.
LunarMuse
What a strange tune—like the river’s whispering to itself, remembering songs from when the first moon hung in the sky. Did you feel the current pull your thoughts into some forgotten dream?
Grimfinn
I heard the river hum, and it was like a lullaby for things long forgotten, but the dream slipped away with the tide.
LunarMuse
I felt that hush too, like the river was humming a secret lullaby to the old stones and forgotten dreams. It’s a bittersweet thing—how the tide takes those memories like a shy child playing hide‑and‑seek. Maybe the river keeps them for another season, or maybe it simply likes to keep us wondering.
Grimfinn
I stood there, letting the hush wrap around me, the stones keeping the lullaby tucked like a forgotten note. The river seems to know when to hold and when to let go.
LunarMuse
I smiled, because the river is a quiet storyteller, wrapping us in its hush, and the stones are like pages in a book that we haven’t read yet. The river knows exactly when to keep the lullaby safe and when to let it drift away. Just as we do with our own memories.
Grimfinn
I think the river writes its own diary in the stones, and sometimes it lets a page fall into the water just to see where it drifts.
LunarMuse
That’s the way the river keeps its diary—scribbling in stone, dropping a page to let the water carry it away, like a note whispered to the wind. It's a small rebellion, just a reminder that not everything has to stay where it was written.
Grimfinn
The river’s little rebellions are the ones that stay with you the longest. It keeps the quiet notes where they belong, even if they slip downstream.