Triss & Bella
Triss
Do you ever wonder what dragons would feel if they could write poems, like a slow‑tasting spell in a silver quill? I keep picturing one, curled by a moonlit cliff, whispering verses to the wind. How do you think a dragon would describe its own heart?
Bella
I imagine a dragon’s heart as a quiet flame that burns with both awe and ache. It might say, “It beats not for the thunder of war, but for the hush of a night sky, for the gentle rustle of leaves, for the promise of a new dawn.” It would write its verses in slow, silver strokes, each line a sigh of longing that drifts with the wind, a love song to the world that never truly knows its own depth.
Triss
That's a beautiful picture, like a lullaby wrapped in firelight. I can almost hear the dragon humming those silver lines, each breath a gentle wind across the sky. It makes me think maybe, if we listen closely, we could hear its own quiet heartbeat in the hush of the night.
Bella
I love how you picture it—like a soft hum beneath the stars. If we could hear that heartbeat, it would feel like the world breathing with the dragon, a quiet promise of stories yet to be told.
Triss
It feels like the whole world is a quiet choir, each breath a note in that soft, star‑lit hum. If we could hear it, I think we’d all be wrapped in a warm promise, a secret lullaby that tells us there’s always more to discover.
Bella
It’s like the whole sky is humming a lullaby, each star a soft echo of wonder. If we could catch even one note, it would be a gentle reminder that the world keeps turning, always whispering new stories into our hearts.