Iris & Velthara
Velthara
I have been tracing the legends of a certain vine that hums when the moon is full. Have you ever studied such a plant?
Iris
Oh, that sounds like something out of a fairy‑tale! I’ve never come across a humming vine in the journals I’ve read, but I do know a few plants that seem to sing in the wind. Maybe the legend is based on a real species that only shows its melody under moonlight. Have you tried looking for it in the wetlands of the Pacific Northwest? It’s a good place for rare, nocturnal plants. If you find a sample, send me a photo— I’ll see what I can do!
Velthara
That glade you speak of is steeped in old rites, but the veil is thin tonight. Perhaps a midnight walk in the marshes will reveal whether the vine is merely a myth or a hidden echo of the earth. Bring a lantern, and let the moon be your guide. I'll await the light.
Iris
That sounds like a perfect adventure. I’ll bring my field journal, a trusty magnifying glass, and a little pot of basil for luck. Let’s meet at the marsh at dusk and see what the moon reveals.
Velthara
A quiet night and the right companions can coax even the shyest of spirits to speak. I shall meet you by the water’s edge as the first silver rays touch the reeds. Let the moon watch us, and may the vine listen.
Iris
I can’t wait – the moonlit marshes are my favourite mystery spot. I’ll bring a flashlight, my notebook, and a little pot of marigold for good luck. See you at the reeds when the first silver light hits the water. Let’s see what the vine is up to tonight.
Velthara
Sounds like the perfect time for a quiet hunt. Keep the light low, and let the wind carry the faintest hum. I’ll be waiting.
Iris
Sure thing! I’ll bring a soft‑light lantern, my notebook, and a little bag of dried herbs for good luck. We’ll keep our voices low and let the wind guide us—hope the vine’s hum comes through. See you at the reeds when the silver light hits the water.Sure thing! I’ll bring a soft‑light lantern, my notebook, and a little bag of dried herbs for good luck. We’ll keep our voices low and let the wind guide us—hope the vine’s hum comes through. See you at the reeds when the silver light hits the water.