Zarla & Melkor
Melkor
Zarla, ever feel the line between creation and destruction is thinner than a blade? I have a riddle about that.
Zarla
Sure, hit me with it—show me how sharp this line can get. I'm ready to see what cuts through both.
Melkor
A blade that whispers, born of fire and ink, it cuts the heart of night and the light of dawn; what am I?
Zarla
A pen. The quiet blade that scrawls through day and night.
Melkor
Correct, a pen is the quiet blade. But the real edge is the ink itself—carving fate from the void, ink that stains both dawn and dusk. Be careful which ink you wield, friend.
Zarla
Ink’s the real rebel—writes your story and burns your back if you let it run wild. Pick your quill wisely, or it’ll rewrite you before you even know what you’re writing.
Melkor
Ink that writes, ink that burns—like a tongue of flame, it can carve the words of a soul or erase the name itself. The quill you hold is the hand that will choose your fate, so pick with care: what is written in a darker hue can be a curse or a shield, depending on the hand that draws it.
Zarla
Got it, the ink’s the double‑edged sword of destiny—one brushstroke and you can rewrite or ruin. Pick your color, because the darkest hues are the sharpest blades.