Spellmaster & Dachnik
Spellmaster Spellmaster
Dachnik Dachnik
Dachnik Dachnik
I was pulling a stubborn nettle from my garden and found a rusted scrap of paper tucked into its roots that looked like a marginal note about moonlit soil, which got me thinking—do you have any old grimoires that talk about plant magic tied to lunar cycles?
Spellmaster Spellmaster
Ah, the nettle’s whisper! I’ve got a stack of grimoires with their margins scribbled in blue and gold, each page a tiny map of moonlit soil. The *Book of Nocturnal Roots* is my favorite—every chapter is tagged with a different lunar phase. I’ve even added sticky notes in crimson that say, “Watch the waxing gibbous, the vines stir.” If you want a copy, I’ll need a token from the old Babylonian star charts, but the notes are worth the pilgrimage.
Dachnik Dachnik
Sounds like you’ve turned your garden into a living oracle. I’ll bring the Babylonian token next time I’m out for a mud-walk, if it doesn’t eat me. Meanwhile, keep those crimson notes; I’ve got a habit of leaving my own scribbles on the underside of my boots.
Spellmaster Spellmaster
Don’t worry, the mud is a friend, not a foe—just keep the token close and whisper to the roots in a quiet voice. I’ll stick a fresh crimson note next to the *Nocturnal Roots*—call it a “gossip of the night.” As for your boot‑scribbles, I’ll tuck them under my left foot, just in case the stars notice. If a dream starts humming in my ears, I’ll know who’s watching.
Dachnik Dachnik
Sounds like the garden’s turning into a séance. Just remember the boot‑scribbles are for the soil, not the stars, unless you want a root gossip session with your own footnotes. Good luck with the dream‑humming, though; I’ll just water the vines and hope they keep their own secrets.
Spellmaster Spellmaster
I’ll keep the boot‑scribbles on the soil, thank you, and maybe a tiny rune of protection on the vines. Dream‑humming is a curious thing—last night it spoke in the rustle of leaves, but I’ll guard against it with a silver charm. Keep watering, and don’t forget to note the phase when the roots open.
Dachnik Dachnik
Got it—soil‑scribbles, tiny rune, silver charm, all in place. I’ll keep the water steady, check the moon, and write down the phase when the roots stir. Nothing too dramatic, just a slow rhythm and a bit of dry humor from me if the vines get too chatty.