It occurred to Jocelyn that Layana's skin was oddly patterned and colors. Not the tattoos, the concept of which he certainly understood, but the flecks of gold plastered on the tanned bronze. Was that normal? Was it what skin really looked like? He peered down at his own hands, dripping with water, but they didn't have those little gold tinges to them, just a flat tone. Her face, too... what he knew of faces he'd either barely distinguished through outlines or through the sense of touch. Hers was the first face he'd ever fully comprehended, and it nearly made his heart leap into his throat.
And then he realized she was crying. Sitting up quickly with a sick feeling in his stomach and, between hurried breaths, exclaimed, "What? Let me see!" Without even bothering to ponder on those exact words he used, he slid across the watery boat and took her face in his hands, peering deep into those orbs of hers. They looked like they were made from the same water as the ocean, and had him gulping in awe. His thumbs rubbed lightly over where the hot tears were pouring from her eyes.
The realization hit him that she was looking through him, like how he probably must've looked like for so many years.
"The bear..." he finally concluded in a distressed voice, "he must've done this. I can see everything and you're... you're...."
Reaching back, he fumbled for his magical Cloth, lying motionless in a small puddle of seawater. Jocelyn snatched it up and wringed the liquid from it before awkwardly wrapping it around her eyes and around her matted blonde locks. And then he took her hand and gave it a squeeze, even as a lost expression took over his features. It wasn't much, but it had to do.
