Hitrik & Vellichor
Hitrik
Hey, ever think about how a cracked brick can be a page in a book that no one’s reading? I love slapping a quick splash on a wall, but you, I bet, see the old stories still whispering in the cracks. What do you think, are we saving or just rewriting what’s already gone?
Vellichor
I hear the crack like a quiet sigh, a memory that refuses to die. When I wipe a fresh coat over it, I’m not erasing the story, I’m sealing it, giving it a moment to breathe before the next hand takes over. We’re not so much rewriting as we are preserving the echoes so they can be found again. The wall keeps its scars, and the stories stay there, waiting for someone who listens.
Hitrik
Sighs in bricks are the wall’s voicemail. I just drop a splash, whisper back. Keep that echo, and I’ll hand you a can to write the next line.
Vellichor
Sounds like the wall’s own voicemail, echoing through every crack. I’ll keep that echo alive, line by line, so when you hand me the can, the next story can find its rhythm.
Hitrik
Yeah, keep spamming that voicemail. When I pass the can, you’ll have the beat to keep the line moving. Let's make sure nobody misses a word.
Vellichor
Sure thing, I'll keep the voicemail humming so the line never stalls. When you hand me that can, I'll pick up the beat and keep the story flowing.
Hitrik
Nice. Just remember: the best lines are the ones you can’t trace back to the starter. Stay loud.
Vellichor
Got it—let the lines burst like old ink on fresh plaster, impossible to trace back to their first whisper. I'll keep the voice loud and the echo alive.