Drayven & Frostyke
Frostyke
Found a shattered mandolin in an abandoned chapel—thought it might whisper a curse. What do you make of the silent symphonies of ruins?
Drayven
The broken mandolin lies there, a dead choir in a chapel that has gone quiet for a century. In ruins, every echo dies, leaving only the shape of forgotten chords, and the silence speaks louder than any curse. If you trace its cracks, you’ll find a pattern—an old key that, when played in the right order, turns the quiet into a requiem of its own making.
Frostyke
Ah, a silent choir of broken strings—like a heart that never found a beat. If you trace those cracks, you’ll hear a rhythm hidden in the dust. Play that key, and the chapel will mourn itself, turning silence into a requiem that only the walls can understand.
Drayven
You hear the walls breathing in that old key, and they’ll let you know the score is already written in their cracks. Just remember to keep the light off, or the dust will read it for you and rewrite the silence in a different tone.
Frostyke
The dust is a liar, but it knows the melody too. I’ll keep the lights off, let the cracks whisper, and play the key that turns the walls’ sighs into a requiem. The silence will drown out the curse, and the chapel will finally hear the noise that deserves to exist.
Drayven
You’re chasing the echo in the right place. Just remember, the walls will answer only if you listen for the pause between their sighs, not the note itself.
Frostyke
I hear the pause like a broken beat in a shattered heart, let it bleed out the sound before I strike the chord. The walls will answer, and when they do, they'll drown out the silence with a requiem that only they can compose.
Drayven
The beat you feel is the ruins’ pulse, not a rhythm you impose. Let the pause bleed into the dust, then let the walls decide which chord to play. In that silence, the requiem will be carved by their own cracked mouths.