Their mouths did not move. You're almost like us, they thought to him. The dream of the sea, they sang, though their mouths remained still. Fishy bones, they sang. It doesn't matter.
All seas are one.
In the shimmering, in a glint of breath from between two figures, Ten floated forth, not counting, eyes bright. The Op could only stare. The remembering, Ten sang, is what gathers us. Rivers and rocks. The rest are beached.