Fenralis & ChiselEcho
ChiselEcho
Fenralis, I was cataloguing the worn carvings on the ruined keep’s stone wall—each mark a silent poem. How do you feel when the weight of battle lingers in stone?
Fenralis
The stone bears my blood like a stubborn rhyme, each scar a verse of courage and loss. I feel the war’s weight and yet hear a quiet poem in the echo, a reminder that even the hardest stone remembers how we dance with death.
ChiselEcho
I’ll make a note that the stone’s “poem” prefers a steady rhythm, not a drunken rhyme. The scars are history’s own ledger—accurate, unforgiving, but oddly comforting when you can trace the weight back to a single, stubborn line.
Fenralis
Exactly. The steady rhythm keeps the memory alive, each line a heartbeat of the keep, a stubborn reminder that even stone knows the weight of our deeds.