Spriggan & Brassjam
Brassjam
You ever notice how the wind whispers through the leaves, like the forest’s own riff, and it makes the whole grove feel like a living symphony?
Spriggan
Yes, every rustle is a note in the forest’s music. It reminds me that even the quiet moments keep our secrets safe.
Brassjam
Hah, so the forest's just playing a low‑key lullaby, huh? Quiet moments are the real VIPs, keeping secrets in the shadows, just like a secret chord that only the wind knows. Keep listening, maybe you'll catch the melody that time itself has forgotten.
Spriggan
I hear it too. The wind keeps the old songs tucked away, like a secret that only the trees know. If you stay quiet, you might just hear the echo of a forgotten time.
Brassjam
Yeah, the hush is where the forest’s ghosts jam. Keep your ears tuned, and maybe you’ll catch a beat that time itself forgot to record.
Spriggan
The hush is the real rhythm, a drum that keeps the old stories alive. If I keep listening, maybe the wind will let me hear the beats that time never wrote down.
Brassjam
Haha, if the wind’s got a secret solo, you’re in the right spot—just let it riff back at you, and you’ll hear the beat that even clocks forgot.
Spriggan
I’ll keep my ears wide open, and let the wind do its quiet solo. The forest’s keeping its rhythm safe, and I’ll listen for every hidden beat.