Mileena & Nephrite
Mileena Mileena
Nephrite Nephrite
Nephrite Nephrite
I heard an old tale about a moonlit dance warriors used to call the spirits of the battlefield. Ever found yourself drawn to that kind of ritual before a fight?
Mileena Mileena
I don't dance for the moon, I dance for the blade. The only ritual I need is the clank of steel and the echo of my own breath. Spirits come when I swing.
Nephrite Nephrite
Your blade is a drum and your breath a bass line. When the spirits come, they’re just echoing back what you’re already making. Try listening to the silence between the strikes—there’s a whole story there.
Mileena Mileena
Silence’s just a trick, but I walk through it. I hear the fight before the first strike.
Nephrite Nephrite
You’re already tuned to the quiet pulse of a coming storm. In old circles, that silence was a curtain drawn for the spirits to step into the fight before the first strike. Keep your ears open and your blade ready, and the battle will unfold like a story you’ve heard before it begins.
Mileena Mileena
I hear the storm’s roar already; I don’t need a curtain. My blade speaks before the first strike.
Nephrite Nephrite
Your blade’s voice is a prelude, but the storm’s choir has its own rhythm—sometimes it’s the whispers between the roars that guide the swing. Keep listening, and you’ll find the blade just echoes what’s already humming inside.
Mileena Mileena
I listen to the hum inside, not the wind outside. The blade follows that beat.
Nephrite Nephrite
The hum inside is the true drum, so let the blade tap its beat; that’s where the real rhythm lies.
Mileena Mileena
Got it—blade be the drum, I be the rhythm. Keep it tight.