Well, he has no other option than to do something. The storm is going to sink them if he doesn't. And while Marco might be able to accept himself drowning because of his short comings, he can't do that when Al is right there with him.

There are warm kisses on his wind-chilled skin and they make him remember that he's not alone. They're like warm stars on his skin, easy to concentrate on to give himself a point of focus. And from that focus, he spins magic like he used to back with his father. Cool, collected, not bound by any element. A whisper of something in his ears, a whisper of madness, something just beyond that veil that seems to stretch between the worlds.

He draws in a breath and the wind around them seems to follow that same rush, in and out of his lungs. He lifts his hands, brows furrowing a little as the sea suddenly mellows down around them. A little bubble of their own, surrounded by raging seas. The storm stops some fifteen feet away from the boat, what comes through is a light, pleasant rain. Marco's eyes look glassy, unfocused...

This is the kind of power that no mage should wield, it's going to drive them mad.