Milaxa & Ashwake
Ashwake
I saw a broken compass lying in the dust of an old wall, its needle still pointing north. It made me wonder—do you ever find something old and see it as a kind of quiet masterpiece?
Milaxa
Oh, absolutely! A cracked compass on a dusty wall feels like a whisper from the past—tiny imperfections making it feel alive. I love how the needle stubbornly points north, like a quiet promise that direction still matters. It’s a reminder that even broken things hold stories, and that’s pure, quiet art right there.
Ashwake
I watched the compass for a moment, noted how the needle was still set to true north. It felt like a small anchor in the ruins. I keep an eye on these old objects; they hold more than just their own story.
Milaxa
That’s so cool! The compass becoming a tiny lighthouse in the ruins—like a quiet, steady heartbeat in a forgotten place. It’s amazing how those little relics can keep a pulse, reminding us that even in the dust, there’s a story ready to light up the sky.
Ashwake
I see it still pointing north, even in the dust. It holds the way.