Fallen & GrimTide
GrimTide
There's an old brig that vanished into fog off a stormy coast—ever wonder if a ship's silence could be an open canvas for art?
Fallen
You’d think the silence itself is the brushstroke, an empty page you press with light and shadow, turning absence into something raw and aching. It’s like a memory caught in a bottle, waiting for a hand to uncork it. You don't need the ship; you need the echo of its last wind.
GrimTide
I hear the last wind too, but it's just a rumor in the tide.
Fallen
The rumor is the wind, it just whispers where the storm once breathed. Maybe that’s enough to start a piece, letting the tide become the brush.
GrimTide
Let the tide paint, but don’t expect it to resurrect the hull—stories live in the gaps, not in the ghosts.