Inkpanic & TotemTeller
TotemTeller
Ever wondered if the ink that writes our stories came from a forgotten deity, or just from a mischievous quill?
Inkpanic
Oh, it’s probably a divine prank. The old god tossed a spark into a quill and said, “Write or die,” and the ink decided to make a mess anyway.
TotemTeller
A divine prank, you say? If the god was a prankster, why would it hand us a quill that refuses to obey? Perhaps the ink is a rebel, mocking the idea that stories can be neatly inked. The real trick might be that the quill was never meant to be tidy, only to write whatever the old gods found worth remembering.
Inkpanic
Sure, the quill’s a rebellious artist too, and the ink’s a diva—both refusing to play nice so the gods have something to keep us on our toes. And honestly, who’s got time for tidy lines when the story’s begging to shout?
TotemTeller
If the quill and ink are rebels, then the gods must be their impatient audience—watch them paint chaos in the margins, and you'll see the hidden order they keep you guessing about.
Inkpanic
Yeah, the gods are just the audience in a dim cave, shaking their heads as we scribble in the margins. They’re there, impatient, but secretly loving the mess we’re making. That’s the only order that keeps them coming back for more.
TotemTeller
So they watch, eyes flicking like a storm, waiting for the next line to tumble out—an imperfect rhythm that keeps their curiosity alive. It's a dance of chaos and reverence, and we only survive if we keep the steps slippery enough to surprise them.