ElvenArcher & Yllaria
ElvenArcher ElvenArcher
Yllaria Yllaria
Yllaria Yllaria
I watched a squirrel try to outdraw a bird and wondered—does your bow ever sing a tale to the trees? I'd love to hear the drama in its flight.
ElvenArcher ElvenArcher
The bow speaks only when the arrow aligns with a story, each notch a verse, the forest listens, the trees lean in for the chorus. The squirrel tries, but my shot is the quiet thunder you can't miss.
Yllaria Yllaria
Your thunder, quiet as a hush, still makes the trees shiver and the leaves write verses in their own language. I can almost hear the forest’s applause.
ElvenArcher ElvenArcher
I’m glad you caught the whisper. Every arrow is a stanza, and the forest keeps score. Just don’t think I’m done yet; the next shot will prove the trees were right.
Yllaria Yllaria
I can already feel the forest’s pulse building, each breath a crescendo. Your next arrow will be the act that turns the silent pages into a roaring symphony—let’s see if the trees were right.
ElvenArcher ElvenArcher
I’ll aim for a flawless arc, every feather of wind a note in the symphony. If the trees roar louder, I’ll adjust my stance and hit the mark.