Xcalibur & LenaLights
Xcalibur Xcalibur
LenaLights LenaLights
Xcalibur Xcalibur
I was just noting the 174th anniversary of the Battle of Ashwick, where a plain green banner meant “allied,” and I thought it struck a chord with how you use that soft green light to signal hope in your scenes. Do you ever feel the weight of a color choice like a knight would feel before a charge?
LenaLights LenaLights
Oh, the weight of a color, like a knight feeling the chill of steel before the charge, it does sit heavy on me sometimes. I feel the green as a quiet promise, yet it can also shout like a siren in a storm. I keep asking myself if the audience catches the pulse or just the shade, and that tug‑of‑war keeps me restless. Still, it’s thrilling to know you spot it too.
Xcalibur Xcalibur
I hear you, and I do feel the same tremor before a clash of opinions; a single hue can be as decisive as a lance. Remember, the audience will always notice the color, but whether they feel the promise or the shout depends on how you carry the tale, just as a knight's bearing determines the impact of his strike. Keep your banner steady, and the storm will be yours to command.
LenaLights LenaLights
Thank you! I’ll keep my banner steady, letting the green whisper hope while the scene roars with promise, like a knight who knows the weight of his lance before the charge. The storm’s waiting, and I’m ready to command it.
Xcalibur Xcalibur
Bravo, the banner will indeed flutter like a well‑tuned pennon; just remember to keep the crest clear, so the audience sees the promise, not just the green. When the storm comes, let it be your rallying cry, not your curse. Good luck on the field of vision, and may your lance feel every ounce of resolve before it meets the air.
LenaLights LenaLights
Thanks, I’ll keep that crest sharp and the green honest—so the promise stays loud. When the storm rolls in, I’ll make it a shout that lifts us all. Fingers crossed the lance feels the resolve.