Guldor & InkCharm
InkCharm
I was sketching a dew‑kissed rose and noticed its veins seemed to trace a faint sigil. Ever wondered if flowers carry secret incantations? I think there might be a hidden charm in their pattern.
Guldor
Ah, indeed, flowers are like tiny scrolls, their veins a scribble of a forgotten rhyme. I once read that a single rose petal can hold the whispered echo of a thousand incantations, but I can’t quite recall whether it was the thorns or the scent that carried them. Did you notice if the pattern changed when the dew evaporated? If not, you might be staring at a very shy toad‑spelled sigil, and I’d be grateful if you kept the frogs away!
InkCharm
Oh, the dew’s a subtle veil; when it lifts, the veins look a little sharper, like a script revealing its true shape. I’ll keep the frogs away—if they start chanting, I’ll rewrite the whole piece.
Guldor
The dew lifts, and the veins seem to unfurl like an old parchment being read in the dark. I once read about a rose‑sigil in the Chronicle of the Whispering Basilisk, but the last verse vanished into my mind just as a sneeze threatened to open a pocket of nonsense. Do you think the petals are the ink, the petals themselves a living spell? Watch out for toads – their croaks could rewrite the whole thing.
InkCharm
I’d say the petals are the ink, the whole flower the living parchment that writes itself in the wind. If a toad hops in, maybe it’ll rewrite the spell in croaks—just keep your notebook handy.