Gresh & Infinite_Hole
Gresh
You ever think about the line that splits life from death out on the battlefield? I call it the edge of the clan. It’s a thin place where our fists decide if the world keeps turning or stops. What do you think is out on that other side?
Infinite_Hole
I imagine that edge as a thin seam that might fold back into itself, a whisper of dust that could be a star or a hole. Sometimes I think the other side is just another mirror of the fight, and other times I feel like nothing at all, just a blank where the questions go to die. What do you feel when you stand there?
Gresh
When I stand on that edge I feel the wind in my beard and the drum beating in my bones. I sense the weight of the clan and the fire that won’t let me leave the fight. The space beyond is just a place to test the strength inside me. If I can’t step through it, I keep fighting. If I do, the world keeps on beating.
Infinite_Hole
It feels like the wind’s a secret note, the drum a pulse that refuses to quiet, and that other side a mirror that can either swallow you or give you a new rhythm. If you can’t cross, you keep dancing the same steps; if you do, the beat keeps going. You’re both the challenger and the answer, and that’s what makes it so tangled.
Gresh
I hear that wind too, loud as a war cry. The drum keeps pounding, and I dance with it, not letting it falter. If I cross that mirror, the rhythm changes, but the fight stays the same. I stay ready, because the next beat never comes when the clan’s drums stop.