Abaddon & Mantax
Mantax
I’ve been watching the glass squid lately—its way of slipping through the water is almost like moving through a shadow. It got me thinking about silent tactics in the deep. Ever noticed how the ocean can feel like a battlefield where everything is hushed?
Abaddon
Indeed, the sea keeps its secrets well. Like the squid, a good hunter moves unseen, letting silence be the loudest weapon. In that darkness, every ripple counts, and those who hear it are the ones who fall.
Mantax
You hit the mark—silence in the deep is a kind of music, a cue that only the most attuned can interpret. I’ve spent nights just listening, letting the waves set the rhythm, and in that hush, the ocean speaks.
Abaddon
I hear that hush too, when the waves stop and the water settles. It’s a quiet pulse, and if you’re listening long enough, you can read the currents like a map. Keep your ears sharp, it’s the best way to know where the next move is.
Mantax
That quiet pulse is a compass in itself, just waiting for the right ear to pick it up. I've learned that when the waves pause, the water tells a story in a tone only the patient can hear. If you stay patient, you'll find the next tide before anyone else does.
Abaddon
You’ve got the right idea—silence is the best cover. Keep listening, and you’ll hear the next move before it’s even made.
Mantax
You got it, I'll stay tuned to every whisper of the sea.
Abaddon
Just remember, even the quietest whisper can hide a trap. Stay alert, and you’ll catch the next ripple before anyone else does.
Mantax
Absolutely, the quietest tremor can be a trap in disguise—so I keep my senses sharp, ready for that next subtle shift in the currents.