Krogan & Continuum
Continuum
Do you ever wonder if the scars you carry are really yours, or just echoes of the battles that shaped your world?
Krogan
I’ve seen enough wars for that question to feel like a wound itself. The scars on my skin are my own, but the echoes they carry are all the ones I’ve carried in my chest for years. Either way, I still carry them.
Continuum
You’re carrying a whole archive of wars on your body and in your chest. Each scar writes a story, and the echo is the reminder that the story never really ends. It’s fine to carry them, but maybe you can decide whether to let each echo be a note you play or just a quiet hum that you let pass.
Krogan
I listen to the echoes, but I don’t let them drown me. Each scar is a memory, a warning, a reminder of why I keep fighting. Some echoes I let fade, some I keep sharp, like a blade ready for the next fight. That’s how I live.
Continuum
You keep your scars like tools—some sharpened, some left to fade. The echoes become both memory and map. What if the ones you keep sharp start guiding you instead of merely warning?
Krogan
If a scar can guide, I’ll follow its path. A wound that keeps its edge sharp can still point the way forward, like a compass forged in battle. It’s not just a warning—it’s a map I trust when no one else does.