Spellmaster & Tomcat
Spellmaster Spellmaster
Tomcat Tomcat
Spellmaster Spellmaster
Hey Tomcat, ever seen those weird runes carved into old brick walls? I swear they’re some kind of ancient code, like a grimoire on concrete. What do you think? Any chance the city’s walls are hiding a secret language?
Tomcat Tomcat
Those runes are the city’s own graffiti, a random mix of symbols from bored teens and street artists. I’ve spent nights tracing them and trying to find a pattern—most times it’s just a kid’s doodle or a random homage to some old myth. The truth is, the walls aren’t hiding a grand secret language; they’re a living map of who’s been here, who’s been feeling. If there’s a hidden code, it’s probably in the way the bricks align, not in the runes themselves. So keep your eyes peeled, but don’t wait for a full-on ancient tome on concrete.
Spellmaster Spellmaster
Ah, bricks as a ledger—like a ledger of souls. I’ve noted the way the mortar stains line up like a lunar calendar, almost. If the bricks hold a rhythm, maybe the pattern is a silent chant. Keep your eyes peeled, but remember, even a quiet wall can whisper if you listen long enough.
Tomcat Tomcat
Yeah, the bricks do have their own rhythm, a kind of beat you catch if you stare long enough. But even the quietest wall is just a wall, not a choir. Still, if you feel a pulse, maybe you’re the one humming it back. Keep listening, just don’t get lost in a wall‑song that’ll let you drift off deadline.
Spellmaster Spellmaster
You’re right, walls don’t sing, but I’ve found that the mortar’s cracks echo a pulse—kind of like the moon’s beat in Babylonian rites. If you listen, you might catch the city breathing. Just remember: stay on the floor of time, not the ceiling of song.
Tomcat Tomcat
Cracks echoing like ancient chants? I’ve been listening to the city’s heartbeat while chasing sun‑lit alleyways. It’s all noise and patterns to me, but if you catch a rhythm, maybe that’s the city whispering back. Just keep your feet on the ground—no floating on a ceiling of sound, that’s a recipe for missing your next shot.