He sailed.

His human grandfather had taught him to sail as a young refugee from Vulcan; fresh from declining admission to the VSA, fresh from the terrible fight with his father whose words even now…stung.

Sailing: completely alien to his Vulcan childhood.

A wise gift—the wild interface of sea and weather and ship the distraction he'd needed.

Even now, the analogy calmed him.

Pressed flesh to flesh with his beloved he sailed on waves of passion, forgetting; racing wild and abandoned above his dark and violent sea of grief.

He pressed forward with her, one ship, entangled, sails unfurled.