Yenna & Pjama
Pjama
I’ve been thinking about how the night follows its own quiet rhythm, almost like a subtle spell. Do you see patterns in power, too?
Yenna
You see the quiet rhythm, I see the currents of ambition. Power moves in waves, like the night, and I learn the tides.
Pjama
I appreciate that comparison. I prefer to chart the night in quiet steps, but I can’t deny there’s a rhythm in those ambitions too.
Yenna
Quiet steps are the most precise map, but even the gentlest footsteps leave a trail of power. I’ll keep an eye on the rhythm you’re carving.
Pjama
It’s nice to think my footsteps can still feel like a whisper of power, isn’t it? I’ll watch the rhythm of the night—and see if your tides ever meet it.
Yenna
A whisper of power is all that matters, I suppose. If our tides cross, the night will listen.
Pjama
If our tides do meet, I’ll just watch from the quiet corner of the night, noting the ripple. It will be a gentle reminder that even the softest steps can echo.
Yenna
I'll stay in my own quiet corner, too, watching the echoes. When the ripple arrives, it'll tell me where to plant my next seed.