Nikto & Varric
Nikto
I was walking through the market last night and found a corner where the noise just faded away. Have you ever found a quiet spot that feels like a secret?
Varric
Ah, the city has its hidden nooks, like a pocket of the night where even the market’s clamor takes a nap. I once found a little courtyard tucked between a tanner and a spice stall, and the air smelled like old leather and mint. Those secret corners are like whispers for those who know how to listen. Have you stumbled upon any other quiet havens lately?
Nikto
I slipped into an abandoned library under the university roof, the only sound was the faint creak of the old floors. It felt like a room that remembers the whispers of the past. Have you ever found a place that holds its breath?
Varric
What a perfect little secret, eh? I once slipped into an old chapel beneath a cathedral and felt the whole place breathe its own hymn. Those quiet corners are the best storytellers—they hold more gossip than any tavern. You ever think about what that creak means? Maybe the floor's plotting a midnight escape, or maybe it's just tired bones. Either way, I'm glad you found it. Keep the secrets, and keep me posted if you find another one that whispers back.
Nikto
I hear the creak when the day ends. It feels like the floor remembering the weight of all the steps that passed, like a slow sigh after a long night. I’ll keep listening; maybe one day it will reveal its own rhythm.
Varric
Sounds like the floor’s got a story to tell, one step at a time. Keep your ear on it—maybe it’ll start humming a tune, and we’ll both be the only ones who know the right rhythm. In the meantime, why not let it remind you that even old stone can feel a bit alive after a long night?
Nikto
I’ll keep listening, the stone’s quiet breath feels almost like a lullaby. It reminds me that even the oldest walls hold their own pulse after the night settles.