Sea Lion Shores some farcical aquatic ceremony

One by one the heads reared back, their faces twisted with a grimace or a snarl or in one case, silent laughter. But they did pull back. The whispering, shifting sounds of the voices became unbearably loud — and then there was warmth upon his face. The comforting intonations of his sister, maybe. It couldn't have been his mother, for she had passed months ago. Thus the man's first thought was of family, and when he was soothed enough to wake and open his eyes, he was filled at first with great exuberance for having been reunited with her — and then instantly crestfallen, sorrowful, and muddied with confusion when he saw it was a stranger.

The nightmare was over, for now. What came after left him speechless at first. Maybe it was the total body annihilation which had come along with his surfacing, or his utter stupification upon realizing he wasn't in the Vale, and this wasn't his beloved sister. Either way, he was subdued. The man opened his mouth to speak and found his lips were chapped, his tongue was acrid tasting with brine and the texture of sand upon it — and so after opening his mouth he shut it, quickly.

A furrow creased his brow unwittingly, and yet he leaned in to her ministrations,  finding the warmth of her touch to be much better feeling than the silvered fingers of the rain.