Marble & GrimTide
GrimTide
I've been digging into the old logs of a vanished schooner called the Mariner's Dream—its silence seems to whisper stories. Do you ever feel a ship's absence pull at your canvas?
Marble
I hear the silence in a way that feels like a quiet invitation, a suggestion to paint what isn't there. Sometimes the absence of a ship becomes a canvas of its own, subtle as a hidden seam in a fabric. It nudges me to fill the space with something that feels as true as the memory itself.
GrimTide
That’s the way it’s always struck me too – the missing hull becomes a kind of ghostly frame. When you sketch around that void, the real story starts to seep out, just like a phantom wind. Keep tracing it; the sea has a way of revealing itself in those quiet gaps.
Marble
It feels like the sea is leaving a space for me to fill, a quiet canvas where the wind whispers. I’ll keep sketching that empty hull, letting the story bloom in the gaps. It’s as if the ocean is waiting for me to notice the unseen.
GrimTide
Sounds like the ocean’s telling you to keep listening. Just let the silence guide your hand, and the hidden tale will come out of the gaps. Don't rush it—sometimes the best sketches are the ones that wait for the wind to decide their shape.
Marble
I’ll let the silence carry me, then. The wind will shape the lines when it’s ready, and I’ll capture the story that way.
GrimTide
That’s the right way—let the sea do the drawing. I'll be here when the next mystery calls.