Oscar may feel it first as a stirring in his mind. Ozpin is groggy, disoriented— and as he pulls himself up to his knees in the surf, it becomes clear why. They are out here together, among the pounding and stormy waves. Mariana has granted them a brief reprieve in the swell, a chance to catch their breath and struggle ashore. It's all Ozpin can do to blink saltwater out of his eyes and run a shaking hand across his face to wipe wet hair away.

Oscar?

It takes him a moment longer to turn and find Oscar's mop of wet hair, bright white streak standing out against a background of dark surf and shore.