Volk & BlackHood
BlackHood
I heard the old watchtower speak after midnight—its stones echoing with forgotten cries. Do you ever listen for what it tries to tell you?
Volk
I do, when the night is quiet and the wind takes the stones' breath, they speak in whispers of rustling leaves and distant echoes.
BlackHood
Those whispers carry a warning, keep listening.
Volk
I let the wind be my guide, keeping my ears open to the warning that lingers like a storm in the silence.
BlackHood
When the wind whispers, the city listens. Keep your ears close.
Volk
I stay still, listening to the city’s pulse, letting its hush speak back to me.
BlackHood
You hear the beat when the city sleeps, and you stay with it.
Volk
I sit with the city’s breath, letting its rhythm fall into my quiet steps.