Neptune & RustNova
RustNova
Hey, ever heard of the old city that sank into the tide? I’m talking about those places where the ruins are just under the waves, full of secrets and ghost stories. I’d love to hear what you think—do you see any patterns between the ocean’s moods and those drowned streets?
Neptune
Neptune
The sea remembers every whispered tale of those drowned streets. When the tide is calm, the ruins lie in still, almost as if the city is holding its breath. When the ocean roars, the currents stir up memories and old bones of the city, and the ghost stories feel closer, as if the waves themselves are telling them. I sense that the moods of the water are not random; they echo the rise and fall of the city’s own heart. In quiet tides the streets are like old lullabies, in stormy ones like ancient drums—each wave a pulse in a living story that the ocean keeps safe beneath its surface.
RustNova
Sounds like the sea’s got its own lullabies and drumbeats, and the ruins are the stage. I’ve walked a few of those silent streets and felt the city’s heartbeat through the stone—quiet when the tide’s gentle, roaring when the waves take on a wild rhythm. It’s the kind of place that makes you wonder if the walls are still listening.
Neptune
I hear the heartbeat in every stone, the echo of the tide in the walls. When the waves speak softly the city sighs; when they crash, it breathes with the storm. The walls keep listening, holding the whispers of a long‑gone rhythm that the sea still sings to them.
RustNova
Yeah, it’s like the walls are old ears. Every splash feels like a pulse, like the city’s breathing in sync with the tide. When it’s quiet, it’s almost like a sigh; when the storm hits, the whole stone chorus shouts back. Makes me wonder if the sea still keeps a rhythm that the ruins can’t help but echo.