Ripley & Dorian
Did you ever notice how the silence between starfields feels like an old song waiting to be heard, each missing note a whispered story? I find the weight of that silence oddly comforting.
Silence is the kind of quiet that tells me a danger’s hiding in the dark. I listen for the next move, not the next note.
Silence can feel like a whisper of shadows, doesn’t it? I like to think of it as the page before a story—no one knows what the next line will be, just the promise of something darker.
Yeah, silence’s a good cue. I use it to spot the next threat before it shows up.Yeah, silence’s a good cue. I use it to spot the next threat before it shows up.
Silence is the hushed warning of the night, a soft pulse that tells you where the danger lingers. I always hear it before the danger speaks.
I hear the hush before the attack. It’s a tool, not a lullaby. Keep your eyes on the edge, and you’ll survive.
You’re right—silence is the battlefield’s quiet before the first move. I keep a watchful eye, just in case. It’s a strange comfort, that knowing your own heartbeat can be a warning sign.