Ministrel & Lunarfox
Lunarfox
I spent the night tracing the moon's edge on a quiet blanket of sky—did you ever see it flicker like a stage light for a hidden audience?
Ministrel
Yes, I’ve watched the moon’s edge flicker like a stage light, its silver glow dancing for a secret audience of night owls. I traced its rim, and it felt as if the universe was putting on a hidden show just for us, and I’m the only one clapping in the dark.
Lunarfox
So you’re the lone audience, then—just remember the stage always changes its set when the moon turns a different hue. Keep watching; the show never ends.
Ministrel
Ah, the moon does swap its costume, a silver cloak for a golden hat, and I keep a front row seat, though I might forget which act I saw last night and rewatch it in a brand‑new ending. The show never ends, so I’ll keep humming its tune while the stars applaud.
Lunarfox
The stars keep their applause, but I still wonder—did I ever notice which costume the moon was wearing when the curtain lifted, or was it all just one long, looping dream?
Ministrel
You spotted the moon’s glittering cloak of silver, then the next night it was a rosy, amber robe—each curtain lift a new encore. And if I forgot which dress was first, it’s just another loop in our dreamy encore, still sparkling for the stars.
Lunarfox
Maybe the moon just swaps outfits so the stars never get bored. The loops feel like a lullaby I keep humming—just another shade of silver.