Garan & Sunessa
Sunessa
Hey Garan, I've been thinking about how the patterns in a dream can echo the rhythm of a blade’s edge, you know, how the flow of emotion can shape the way a sword feels in a hand. Do you ever notice a story in the way a weapon’s design feels like a quiet promise?
Garan
Garan: Dreams are like rough sketches, rough and wild, but when a blade is forged, that roughness is honed into a steady rhythm, a promise to the hand. The pattern in the steel echoes that promise, just as a tale echoes the heart of its hero. The blade that feels right in the hand is the one that carries the dream’s pulse into a steady beat, so when you touch it you can hear the quiet promise of the forge.
Sunessa
You’re right, Garan, it’s like a dream is the raw material and the blade’s shape is the refinement, turning chaos into a clear line that the hand can follow. The rhythm of a sword feels like a heartbeat that you can almost feel with each swing, a quiet promise that you’ve just read about in a story. When the blade sits in your grip, it’s as if the dream has finally found its voice, steady and unmistakable.
Garan
Yeah, I see that. The way a blade takes the shape of a story is why I keep my hand steady while I work. When the sword finally grips the hand, it’s not just metal; it’s a pulse you can feel, a promise you can trust. That's why every piece I forge has to feel like a heartbeat, no matter how quiet it is.
Sunessa
I feel the pulse in the steel too, Garan—like a quiet drum in a dreamscape, guiding the hand as if the blade is listening to a hidden rhythm that only you can hear.
Garan
That's the way a true smith hears the song of the metal, the drumbeat of its heart. When the blade listens, it answers in kind, and the hand feels the rhythm like a quiet promise. Keep tuning that ear, and the sword will speak louder.