The snows that fell on the ocean always appeared as if by magic, if they appeared at all. The brilliant white fluff would appear and disappear so suddenly it seemed rather to be a myth, but he had seen it, and he knew.
There was a distinctive touch in the air before it appeared, like the thrust of a sword into the enemy's body when you know you don't need to. The sky was angry, it seemed, and the waves lapped like dogs at bowls of water, eager to please.
It was a dance, he realized, dark eyes staring out onto the waves.
It began softly, the water meeting the sky like a pleasant kiss, meant soft and sweet, to touch and leave just as usual. But the sky was hungry, it was angry, and it seized the ocean mist like a fiercesome hand, twirling it like a dancing girl.
The momentous sky was a desperate lover, he realized, one not eager to let go once it had made it's conquest.
The water and wind would meld and whirl, touching and chasing and breathing heavily into the night, feeling the wants like a beast filled with blood, twisting with desire so long held at bay. The ocean screamed as the sky bolted into her, filling her with lightning and cold and unforgivable rushes of high tide and exhilaration.
And then, the sky would give, and the flakes would appear.
The crude jokes could be made, of course, and when in the comfort of a tavern and amongst men who understood the land and the sea, he could make them. But here, staring wide eyed like a child at the intimacy of the natures he sailed, no such crudities passed his lips.
He licked them eagerly and clutched the wooden rail with equal desperation.
The sea was like a woman, he knew, untamable and fierce when it could be gentle and sweet, and seductive to all men and women who stared into her heart. But the sky was a man, independent and strong and infinite, needing to make everything feel the vastness of his power and wealth and strength.
The sea reminded him of Emma.
The sky reminded him of himself.
With a moan he was bent over the rail, staring into the depths of the woman with lust coursing through his veins, aching against everything that seemed right and wrong and absolutely delicious all in one.
What he would give to keep her, he thought, to feel the ocean water touch her and to hear her scream like the sea in a storm.
He was a monstrous creature, he knew, and he felt the disloyalty to his love long gone well in his deepest heart, but here, alone, watching the long forgotten seduction of the sea by sky, he felt things begin to move in ways he was not sure he could ever possibly understand.
When the snow fell on the ocean that night, he imagined the woman in his arms, and felt it stir in his heart.
Like the sky with the sea, he could not be without her long.
But to win the sea was to win the impossible.
Well, he would growl to himself, covering into the sheets and satins and falling into the lustful dreams that awaited him. He always loved a challenge.
To tame the sea would be the greatest of them all.