Titanic & Zelinn
Titanic
I’ve always been fascinated by the tale of the ghost ship that glows in moonlight, a legend that whispers of a vessel guided by stars and lanterns—have you heard it?
Zelinn
Ah, the moonlit ghost ship—yes, I’ve heard that one. It’s the kind of story that lingers like a soft glow on a night‑scented canvas. Do you ever try to sketch its lantern light or weave its tale into something? The way the stars guide it feels both radiant and a little frightening, don’t you think?
Titanic
I do love turning that glow into a story, drawing the lantern light as silver threads against the night, letting the stars map its course. It’s a bit frightening, but the glow feels like a promise that even in the dark we’re guided.
Zelinn
That silver thread glow sounds like a promise in the dark, a lullaby for the restless. I love how you let the stars become a map—it's like the night is handing you a compass made of light. Keep weaving it; the ship will keep sailing as long as you keep dreaming.
Titanic
Indeed, the lanterns burn like tiny beacons of hope, and as long as we keep dreaming, the story will float across the waves.
Zelinn
Exactly—each lantern a pulse of hope, and every dream a ripple that sends the tale farther across the night. Keep letting those pulses flicker, and the story will keep drifting, shimmering on the horizon.