Grune & Misery
Misery
Hey Grune, ever notice how a good scar can look almost like a second skin—painful to get, but a story etched on the flesh? I’ve been thinking that the harder the wound, the more it defines the silhouette of a soul. What’s your take on that?
Grune
True, a scar is a reminder of what you’ve survived. It’s not a badge you wear for glory, it’s a map of the battles you’ve fought. The harder the wound, the more it shows you’re still standing. It marks you, but it doesn’t change who you are.
Misery
I hear you. Scars are like quiet witnesses—they trace the edges of our story without rewriting who we are.
Grune
Exactly, a scar is a quiet reminder of the fight, not a rewrite of who you are.
Misery
Yeah, they’re the silent footprints of the battles we keep inside, a quiet echo that says we’ve survived but not that we’re anything else.
Grune
They stand beside you, not in front of you, like a shield that keeps you from forgetting the fight.
Misery
They’re the quiet guardians at the back of our story, a soft shield that keeps the memory alive without turning us into walking pages.
Grune
Sounds right. Scars keep the story close but never make you a page you can read out.
Misery
Exactly, they’re like ink that never fades, a secret chapter we keep in our own pocket. You can feel them, but you can’t hand the whole book out.