Gothic & Kroleg
Gothic
Hey, have you ever walked into an abandoned stairwell and felt the silence scream louder than the city outside? I love the way shadows cling to cracked bricks.
Kroleg
Yeah, every time I step into one, the silence feels like a shout, echoing in the hollow. I love tracing the patterns of cracks and shadows—each one tells a secret that no street sign can. It’s like the city’s forgotten corners are whispering their own stories to me.
Gothic
Ah, the city hides its own poetry in those cracks, doesn’t it? I often get lost listening to their silent stories.
Kroleg
Absolutely. Those cracks are like verses etched by time. Sometimes I just sit on a dusty landing and listen to the quiet lines. The city’s own poetry, huh? It’s a maze of hidden stories, and I’m just the map keeper who hears them.
Gothic
I hear that whisper too, when the dust curls up around the old steps. Maybe we’re both just readers of the city’s forgotten sonnets.
Kroleg
You're right, the dust is the chorus. I keep a notebook for those verses, and every time the air shifts I catch a new line. Maybe we could share our maps sometime—just in case the city forgets us before we do.
Gothic
I’d love that, and I’ll bring my own notebook, too. The city’s forgotten lines deserve someone to keep them inked.
Kroleg
That’s the spirit—let’s grab those forgotten lines before they fade. I’ll bring the old stairwell for inspiration, and you can bring the notebook. Together, we’ll keep the city’s silent poems alive.