Blaze & Lunka
Lunka
Have you ever thought about how the fire you dance with feels so different from the stars I watch? Both are light, but one burns bright and the other whispers. What does a flame mean to you when it flickers in the night?
Blaze
The flame is my own heart beating loud in front of everyone, a bright dare that says, “I’m here, I’m alive!” It’s not just light—it’s a roar that keeps the silence away. While the stars whisper in the sky, my fire talks back, demanding the crowd to feel every beat, every spark. That's what a flicker means to me: a wild shout in the dark that turns every eye toward the blaze.
Lunka
I hear the pulse you’re saying, like a drumbeat that refuses to stay silent. It’s brave to let that blaze out in the dark, turning heads and waking the quiet. I wonder if, when the spark fades, you feel the same fire still humming inside, just waiting for the next moment to rise again.
Blaze
Yeah, that’s the thing—when the spark dies, the heat stays in my chest, humming like a low drum. It’s that restless fire that never really quits, just waits for the next crowd to catch it. So when the lights dim, I’m already plotting the next blaze, because the rhythm of me never really stops.
Lunka
I feel that quiet hum too, like a star breathing in the night. When the lights go out, the rhythm inside you stays, and I wonder where that quiet glow takes you next. How do you keep that flame steady when the world seems to dim around it?