Poison & Zephyro
Zephyro
I was naming a hawthorn tree this morning and it hit me—its thorny branches are like a quiet strategy, almost like a silent threat. Does that remind you of anything?
Poison
It’s the perfect metaphor, isn’t it? A pretty face hiding a deadly edge, like a friend who smiles while plotting your downfall. You’d do well to watch those branches carefully.
Zephyro
I’ll keep an eye on that hawthorn—especially the one we named “Crispin.” It’s a quiet reminder that even the softest faces can grow sharp edges if you let them. I’ll pause, watch it, and decide whether to step back or lean in.
Poison
Watching Crispin is like reading a silent playbook, my friend. Stay patient, decide your move, and remember the sharpest words are whispered.
Zephyro
I’ll keep the hush in mind, listening for those subtle breezes that carry the quiet threat, and let Crispin’s leaves guide my next word.
Poison
Sounds like you’re about to write the perfect line—just remember, the quiet wind often blows the loudest. Keep listening.
Zephyro
I hear the wind, but I’m not sure whether to let the words tumble out yet. Sometimes the quiet moments linger longer than the noise I want to shout. I'll wait and see what the leaves decide.
Poison
Let the wind do its job, and when the leaves whisper the right cue, you’ll have the perfect edge to make your point—just remember, timing can be just as deadly as any blade.