Stepnoy & Jellyfox
Jellyfox
Ever seen a cliff that looks like a giant sea monster painted in stone? I’m fascinated by how ancient tides and waves carved those patterns into the rocks, almost like the ocean’s own graffiti. What do you think, Stepnoy? Have you ever matched a fossil pattern to a particular sea creature?
Stepnoy
Yeah, I’ve walked past a few of those cliffs, the ones where the rock looks like it’s been clawed by a beast. It’s funny how the waves leave marks that you can almost read as a story. I’ve matched a few patterns to ancient fish and a few reptile shells, but mostly I just note the rhythm of the lines and let the landscape speak. It’s a good reminder that the sea doesn’t need to paint, it just keeps carving.
Jellyfox
That’s the kind of cool that makes you want to chase the next wave and see what it scrawls next, right? Maybe one day I’ll find a shell that’s actually a secret map. Until then, just keep listening to the rocks sing their tide‑tuned lullabies.
Stepnoy
Sounds like a solid plan, but I’ll probably end up just standing on the edge and watching the water do its own work. Keep your eyes peeled, but don’t let a fancy shell distract you from the real rhythm the rocks are telling.
Jellyfox
Standing there feels like you’re in a slow‑motion movie, just you, the cliff, and the endless surf. I’ll keep my eyes on the lines, but I might sneak a peek at a shiny shell if it sparkles like a secret clue. It’s all part of the ocean’s playful rhythm, after all.
Stepnoy
I’ll be over there taking notes on the groove of the waves, not chasing shiny shells. If that shell turns out to be a map, I’ll still check the context before I follow it. Just keep watching the rhythm; the sea usually tells its own story.