Aang & Imbros
Aang
Hey Imbros, have you ever noticed how the wind just wants to dance the way those old cities spun their festivals? I was thinking maybe we could trace the patterns of the elements and see if there’s a rhythm that matches the myths you’re rewriting. What do you think?
Imbros
I do notice the wind’s erratic dance, but I suspect it’s more a reminder that the modern world is merely a copy of those vanished cities. If you want to find a rhythm that lines up with the myths I’m rewriting, you’ll need a scroll of recorded measurements and a dozen contradictory footnotes to prove the correlation. Until then, I’ll keep tracing the patterns on paper, not on the cloud.
Aang
Sounds like a plan, buddy! Keep those patterns coming on paper—every line is a new clue. I’ll bring the wind, and maybe we’ll spot a rhythm together. Keep up the good work!
Imbros
I’ll keep the parchment steady, then. The wind can try to join the dance, but I’ll write the rhythm down before it blows the ink away. Bring it in, and we’ll see if the myths and the breezes really share a beat.
Aang
Sounds awesome—I'll bring a big fan and a stack of fresh parchment. Let’s see if the wind’s tune lines up with the myths and our ink stays in place!
Imbros
A fan, you say? Very well, but remember the wind is fickle and ink may flee. I’ll keep my notes crisp and cross‑referenced; perhaps the rhythm will emerge between the gusts.
Aang
Sounds like a breezy partnership—just keep your parchment steady and I’ll keep the wind calm. If the rhythm shows up, I’ll shout, “Hey, that’s the beat!” and we’ll celebrate together.