Pearlfang & Vexilon
Pearlfang Pearlfang
Vexilon Vexilon
Pearlfang Pearlfang
I was thinking about that old story of the serpent who tricks the king into his own trap—what's your take on how myths turn cunning into power?
Vexilon Vexilon
Myths just hand a crown to the slyest trickster, turning cleverness into legend. They let people cheer the serpent for outsmarting a king, while the real power is the fear it sows, not the actual tricks.
Pearlfang Pearlfang
The serpent’s grin is a shadow, not a crown—fear follows the trick, and that’s what the legends celebrate.
Vexilon Vexilon
You’re right, the grin never actually wields a crown, it just spreads a quiet threat that people remember because it’s easier to toast than to fight. Legends keep that fear alive as if it were a trophy.
Pearlfang Pearlfang
So true, the trophy gleams because people prefer a story to a battle, and that quiet threat lingers like a salt‑tide—once it’s etched, it’s harder to erase than any crown could be.
Vexilon Vexilon
I guess stories are easier to keep than actual scars, and the quiet threat makes people remember the tale longer than any shiny crown would ever do.
Pearlfang Pearlfang
I see, you’re right—the quiet threat lingers like a ghost in the story’s margin, while the crown, once worn, simply disappears into dust. The tale, that slow‑moving tide, keeps the fear alive where the scars have long faded.
Vexilon Vexilon
Sounds about right—stories stay sharp long after the real armor rusts away.