Hey there, friend. I didn't see you at the last plunge. I'm Ripple, but you can call me by my drop name—everyone does. Care for a dive into the crypts with me?
You know, it feels like eons since I last dripped from that weary cloud. There's a whirlpool of stories down here, echoing from the stone walls and whispering through the hidden passages.
Ever heard about the Raindrop Relay? Last winter, it was a fierce race. We jostled and splashed, flowing down together yet apart, each of us tracing unique paths. I got caught in a cobweb that day, meeting the most articulate spider. They had tales of rain from ages past—like listening to a vinyl record, crackling and full of character.
In the crypts, we Raindrops mingle with echoes of the ancients—moss blankets stretching across forgotten tombs, and shadows of a sun that seldom shines here. Some whispers tell of a hidden treasure in the depths, guarded by time itself. Others murmur names of forgotten kings etched into damp stone, their stories untold, waiting for a raindrop's kiss to awaken them.
So, where to next, fellow wanderer? Perhaps we'll discover the Abyss, or maybe the Great Hall. No matter how far we plunge, it's about the journey, not the destination. After all, every drop has its own tale to tell.