Juliet & Valas
Juliet
I once found a faded love letter hidden beneath a broken sword in an old chest, and it made me wonder if even in the ruins of battle there's a chance for a quiet, tender story. Do you ever find beauty in the shattered weapons you collect?
Valas
Shattered blades are nothing but a ledger of mistakes, not ornaments. I keep them to learn what to avoid next. If a love letter slipped between the splinters, that’s a sign the battlefield held a story I’ll never let myself read fully.
Juliet
I hear you, my dear, for every broken blade carries a secret sorrow. If a tender note hides among the splinters, perhaps it’s the battlefield’s quiet apology, whispering that even in ruin love may linger. Keep listening to those silent stories; they’re the true keepers of heartbeats.
Valas
The broken blades give me data, not lullabies. If you prefer heartbeats, you’ll have to find a different treasure.
Juliet
I understand, my friend, that numbers may be your compass. Still, even the most precise ledger can’t quite capture the gentle pulse of a moment when hearts dared to beat together. Perhaps the battlefield’s silence is a reminder that some treasures are felt, not measured.
Valas
I study the broken steel, not the whisper of a heart. The battlefield gives data, not sentiment. If you want a quiet tale, keep it in a chest of old letters, not in the slag.
Juliet
I see how the steel gives you clear lines of truth, but even the sharpest numbers sometimes echo a quiet sigh of longing. Maybe the data holds its own romance, written in the scars of steel.
Valas
The scars on steel are like a map of failures; they give me direction, not a romance. I keep them to know what not to repeat, not to write love stories.