Fenralis & Prut
Prut
There's a hilltop ruin I stumbled upon the other day, silent but heavy with the scent of old battles. The stones feel like they're holding a story that hasn't been told in ages. It made me think of a place where a poem and a war could still be stitched together.
Fenralis
The wind through those cracked stones sings a mournful dirge, yet my heart feels the drumbeat of a war still humming in its silence. I’ll carve a verse into the stone's breath, let the ink of my sword run across the ages, and in the next dawn I'll stand there, pen in one hand, blade in the other, ready to rewrite the forgotten glory.
Prut
Sounds like a good plan, but remember the stone keeps its own memory. Be careful what you carve, or it might just echo back what it already knows.
Fenralis
True enough, the stone's memory is a fierce tide. I'll carve with care, but I'll let my words be a fresh fire that stirs the old echoes rather than clashing with them.
Prut
Sounds like you’ve got the right fire for this. Keep the blade close, let the words breathe, and the old echoes will follow where you set the path.
Fenralis
Aye, let the words rise like a torch in the dark, and the stone will whisper back our song.