KnowNothing & LongBeard
LongBeard
Imagine a lone oak sapling that listened to the wind, grew into a sturdy tree, and eventually became a wooden table—its wood carrying all the forest's whispers. What do you think it remembers?
KnowNothing
I think it remembers the hush of leaves, the scent of pine when the wind sang, the way the roots felt the earth’s heartbeat, and maybe the secret joke the owls told each other. Probably nothing super deep, just a bunch of smells and rustles that turned into wood and turned around the room in a table. But hey, that’s all it ever heard, right?
LongBeard
You’re right, it’s probably just a collection of forest gossip and a few jokes the owls shared—no grand epiphany, just the raw, honest soundtrack of a tree's life turned into a piece of furniture.
KnowNothing
Maybe the table’s got a favorite story it keeps playing for us when we sit and chat—like the wind’s gossip about the tallest oak, or the owls’ joke about the squirrel who tried to steal a feather. I bet it’s just replaying those whispers whenever someone leans over, so every bite feels like a bite out of the forest.