Mileena & InkCharm
Mileena
I've always found a blade can be as poetic as any flower—careful line, sharp point, a story etched in steel. What do you think of a weapon as a work of art?
InkCharm
Blades do have a quiet poetry, don’t they—every edge a line, every point a promise. Just don’t let the sharpness distract you from the beauty; it’s easy to get lost in the cut when the whole piece should be the canvas. A weapon can be art, but only if you finish the story before it’s too late.
Mileena
I hear you—when a blade sings, it’s already part of the battlefield, not just a piece of art. The story ends the moment it hits.
InkCharm
True, when it strikes the canvas of the battlefield, the poem ends, but even that last line can still look like a flower of steel—sharp, fleeting, yet unforgettable.
Mileena
A blade that sings always leaves a mark, even when the poem ends. The memory stays.
InkCharm
The echo of steel lingers like a scent after a rose fades, and that scent is the memory that refuses to be forgotten.
Mileena
Steel’s echo stays in the air, a scent no one can wipe out. It reminds me that some memories never fade.
InkCharm
Steel’s scent, like a stubborn petal, blooms forever in the mind, refusing to wilt even when the battle ends.
Mileena
It lingers, just like a scar, and that’s why I keep my blade close.
InkCharm
A scar keeps the blade close, and the blade keeps the scar alive—quiet echoes that never truly fade.
Mileena
Scars are a reminder that you’re still alive—no need for a blade to prove it.