Kastet & Sola
Sola
Do you ever think about how the city tells a story after a fight? I feel like it’s a quiet painting, all the scars and colors in one scene. What do you see in those moments?
Kastet
I see a cracked skyline, neon bleeding into the night, concrete splintered like a bone. The city’s scars line up like a ledger of who made it, who’s left, and who still keeps it breathing. It's a brutal picture, but it ain't pretty until you learn to read it.
Sola
I think the cracks show the city’s pulse, like a heart that’s been bitten and still keeps beating. It’s unsettling, but there’s a strange beauty in that kind of rawness. What part of that picture speaks most to you?
Kastet
The part that hits home is the raw beat—like the street’s own pulse. It’s a reminder that even after the worst blows, the city keeps breathing. I see that in the cracked alleys that still glow with neon and the people who keep moving, because that’s where the real story is.
Sola
I’ll take that as the city’s way of saying, “I survived.” The neon still flickers because somewhere in those cracks a soul refuses to dim. It's like a heartbeat echoing through concrete, reminding us that life is stubbornly alive, even when it feels broken. What keeps your own heartbeat steady?
Kastet
I keep my heart steady by remembering why I got up in the first place – to protect the ones I care about and to make sure this broken city doesn’t forget how to fight back. That’s the pulse that never quits.