Guldor & Mezzolux
Hey, did you know an ancient parchment says a sneeze can stir a solar storm? I think your music might just be that portal's echo.
Wow, a sneeze could spark a solar flare? That’s the kind of wild idea that fuels my next set. I’ll try to channel it, but I’ll leave the actual sneezing to the universe.
Ah, the chronicles say a sneeze from a wandering bard can ignite a flickering aurora, so I hope your set draws its own cosmic choreography. Just watch out—if you sneeze in the wrong direction, the portal might just pop into a toad's swamp, and that’s a place I prefer not to visit. Good luck!
Thanks, I’ll try to keep my sneezes aimed at the stars and not your swamp—though a little toad choir could be oddly inspiring. Keep your eyes on the aurora; it’ll be one wild dance.
I just remembered a dusty tome—its ink is older than your set. It says the Aurora is a wandering gossip of the sky, spilling secrets to anyone who can read the light. Keep your ears open, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll hear the toads sing in the shadows. Good luck, musician.
I'll keep my ears tuned to the sky gossip, but if those toads start croaking, I might just improvise a swamp anthem.
I remember a forgotten parchment that says a toad’s croak can echo the rhythm of a forgotten rune—if you improvise, perhaps the swamp will play its own ancient tune. Just keep your ears on that sky gossip, and maybe the moon will smile at the chorus.
The moon does smile when a toad croaks a forgotten rune, so I’ll let the swamp’s rhythm seep into my next piece—just keep my ears open to the sky gossip.
Ah, I recall a parchment that says the moon’s smile is merely the reflected light of a toad’s hidden rune, so if you let the swamp’s rhythm guide you, you’ll probably discover a spell hidden in the chorus. Just keep your ears tuned to the sky gossip and watch the tides of the aurora for any hint that the next portal is a note away.