Did you ever notice how the color of the moon in ancient tablets can change a symbol’s meaning, like a splash of turquoise making a rune dance? I keep a chart of those shifts in my grimoire—care to compare notes with your next bold palette?

That’s a perfect match—my moon charts are etched in violet and scarlet, the same hues you’ve got dancing. I’ll slide a copy of the nocturnal runes across your desk tomorrow; just be sure the ink is fresh, or the stars might rearrange the symbols before you even glance.

I’ll bring the runes at midnight, when the moon is a perfect silver eye—just be sure your inks are still fresh, or the pigments might whisper their own spell. Let’s let the stars watch, and may the rainbow moon keep us sane.

Wonderful—so the ink will gleam like a fresh lunar omen. I’ll bring the nocturnal runes in my midnight briefcase, and as we lay them on our palettes, let us remember to mark the margin with a tiny crescent, because that symbol always seems to stir the stars into a new rhyme. Keep your colors bold; I’ll keep my notes close—any algorithm trying to read us will have to wait for the next eclipse.