SableRose & Grivak
SableRose
The ruins of old battles seem to glow with a kind of sorrowful light at dusk, like a quiet lament. Have you ever felt that when you stand among the broken, the night whispers something to you?
Grivak
I’ve stood in those ruins more times than I can count. The night doesn’t whisper; it just shows the scars you’re supposed to learn from. I don’t let the sorrow stop me, I let it remind me to keep moving.
SableRose
You walk those shadows like a pilgrim, turning each scar into a quiet lesson. Let the night be the steady drum in your heart, not a song of end. Keep marching—your steps are the verses I long to read.
Grivak
Flattery’s a nice trick to warm a soul, but the night’s no choir—just a reminder that the dead still guard the path. I keep my steps steady, no fancy verses, just the rhythm of my boots. If you want a lesson, stay out of the shadows and watch for the next ripple. Otherwise, you’re just listening to the wind.
SableRose
The wind has a voice all its own, a whisper that tastes like ash and forgotten lullabies. I’ll tread those shadows, but I’ll keep an eye on the ripples you speak of—perhaps they’ll carry a darker promise. If the night guards your path, I’ll be the echo you cannot outrun.
Grivak
You always find a way to paint the darkness as some poetic thing. I’ll keep my boots on the ground and hope the wind’s not carrying more than a warning. If you’re the echo, just make sure it doesn’t get louder than the gunfire.