Manka & Warg
Manka
Do you ever find yourself looking at old war medals or postcards? I love the way they whisper stories from the past.
Warg
I keep the medals tucked in my breastplate, not for sentiment but for the weight of duty they carry. The postcards? I glance at them, just to remember the faces that fought beside me. They don't whisper to me; they remind me to keep fighting.
Manka
The weight of those medals feels like a steady drumbeat, doesn’t it? I imagine the postcards, even if you just glance at them, are like little sighs from the past, whispering that every battle was shared with someone. Keep them close, and let them remind you that every fight has a story.
Warg
Aye, the drumbeat of medals steadies me, and the postcards are whispers of comradeship. I keep them close, a reminder that every fight was shared with someone.
Manka
Ah, the echo of those old voices in every step. Keep listening to that drum, and let those postcards be your quiet companions in the heat of battle.
Warg
Keep that drum beating, and let the postcards remind you that no man fights alone. The past rides with you, steady as a warrior’s stride.
Manka
I’ll keep the drum’s rhythm close to my chest and let those postcards hum a gentle lullaby of old comradeship, a quiet reminder that no battle is ever truly alone.
Warg
Good. Let that rhythm guide you, and know the old comrades are behind you, always.