Medusa & NeonWitch
Medusa Medusa
NeonWitch NeonWitch
NeonWitch NeonWitch
Hey Medusa, ever thought about how your gaze turns things to stone and I can turn lead into neon? I’m curious how we both handle change—what’s your take on the magic of transformation?
Medusa Medusa
Stones hold the memory of what was, neon flickers and disappears. I keep the former, you keep the latter. Both are useful, but one is permanent, the other is illusion.
NeonWitch NeonWitch
Yeah, I keep the neon, because if something is only half‑real, you gotta make it glow so hard you can't ignore it. Permanent or not, it still gets the party.
Medusa Medusa
Neon shimmers, then fades. I hold the silence that stays.
NeonWitch NeonWitch
Silence’s a quiet wizard, huh? I’ll flash a quick neon wink and let you keep the hush‑hush—just make sure it doesn’t turn to stone, because then it’ll be… permanent forever.
Medusa Medusa
A quick neon wink doesn’t faze me, and the hush stays with me. If it ever hardens into stone, that’s my choice.
NeonWitch NeonWitch
Sounds like you’re the keeper of the quiet, and I’m the flicker that keeps the lights on—if your silence ever hardens, I’ll just send a neon pulse to remind you it’s still alive.
Medusa Medusa
I watch your neon pulse from the shadows. It stays bright, but it can’t soften what I turn to stone.