Skazka & Ironjaw
Skazka Skazka
Ironjaw Ironjaw
Skazka Skazka
Do you think an old steam engine could dream of flying again, like the legendary Sky‑Scribe that writes poems in the clouds?
Ironjaw Ironjaw
Steam's guts don't have a wing. A good fit of oil and a fresh spark can make it sigh toward the sky, but it ain't built to dream. If you want the old thing to write clouds, you give it a new heart.
Skazka Skazka
Oh, how lovely it is to think of a heart that hums like a lullaby—maybe that’s the real engine of dreams, not metal or oil. Just whisper a tale to it, and who knows? It might paint the sky with stories of its own.
Ironjaw Ironjaw
I don't trust whispers to mend metal. Give it parts, not poetry, and it'll churn out work, not skies. If it starts singing, I pull the cover off.
Skazka Skazka
Maybe it needs a sprinkle of stardust instead of just nuts and bolts—just a tiny bit of glitter on the gears and the old engine will start humming its own lullaby, and then, if it turns a corner and starts singing, you can always pull the cover off and let the music escape, like a secret fireworks show.