Even with his goggles on the difference in light levels between inside this place and out means that Jim's almost blind for a couple minutes once he's brought the door shut after him. If the wind catches on that door and rips it open all the way no amount of staying quiet is going to help him. The captain lingers in a dark corner near the entrance until his eyes have adjusted enough to pick his way slowly further inside.
The light of the flickering candles isn't much to go by but it does give just enough glow to make out Felix's work in here. Alone in the dark amid his supplies and his craft. The smell alone says that Felix has been summoning in here though neither his familiar nor flame atronach are present. Neither is the floating being of rock and crackling energy who guarded the captain while the Nexus fought back against one of his most fearsome enemies. Jim can never remember what that one was called. It wasn't as important at the time as staying alive and protecting others. But none of them are here now.
Only Felix the conjurer, sitting inside his circle and, well. Jim doesn't know what he's doing exactly. Meditating, perhaps? Or praying. That seems more likely than the first given the circumstances.
Jim hasn't hardly dared to breathe yet. His lingerings have been as far back as possible to avoid being spotted but Felix is so still across from his shrine of ice that he must have made. It looks as though it should fall from this angle. But there's a deep creak not unlike glaciers shifting and Jim is hurrying forward as quietly as he can. Ready to pull Felix out of the way of the collapsing formation of ice except it's not collapsing. It's resting. Crouched down across from Felix and most definitely not inanimate no matter how still it is now. Remembering the fluid form of the flame atronach and the jagged swiftness of the lightning caller shifts his perspective just enough for Jim to understand what it is he's staring at sitting so still across from Felix.
Is it any wonder that a man lacking any sort of magic or contact with the gods would gasp however quietly?
Here sits a creature entirely of ice and frost. A destruction spirit not unlike the others Felix has summoned in the past. Is this one larger because Felix himself favors the frost element? Is it more easily able to work with him with their magical acuities aligned? It's power shimmers across its faceted limbs. Flows onto the floor in the space between them. Covers everything---including Felix---in a layer of frost. The captain's heart lodges itself into his throat until he spies a soft cloud of breath slip out from Felix.
Another. Steady and constant. Without labor. Without pain. Felix is alright, whatever it is he's doing.
The intimate Otherness of this scene is a knife that plunges between Jim's cold weather gear and pierces his heart. What is he in all of this? An outsider, an interloper. Here to break the steady thrum of magic in the air. A buzzing Jim can just barely feel at the back of his neck but cannot understand.
He's no mage. Jim doesn't belong here.
But where else should he be if not his husband's side? Amid swirling poisonous thoughts and a sea of uncertainty as vast as the galaxy he's set to explore there exists also a pillar built on years of trust earned, chipped and marred though it may be. Affections given freely. Nights sacrificed to care for one another. No matter how strong the bitter urge to break the ritual circle and drag Felix from it demanding answers whispers pulls at the captain he refuses to be drug into its undertow. He bears the scars of choosing to trust in Felix when no other will already. What's the potential for one more?
Slowly, carefully. Jim settles down just outside the ritual circle to wait for his husband. Jim doesn't like it but he doesn't have to. Felix made this decision without him. If he's needed he'll be here. Otherwise...
Kirk waits quietly in the dark both literally and metaphorically.
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The light of the flickering candles isn't much to go by but it does give just enough glow to make out Felix's work in here. Alone in the dark amid his supplies and his craft. The smell alone says that Felix has been summoning in here though neither his familiar nor flame atronach are present. Neither is the floating being of rock and crackling energy who guarded the captain while the Nexus fought back against one of his most fearsome enemies. Jim can never remember what that one was called. It wasn't as important at the time as staying alive and protecting others. But none of them are here now.
Only Felix the conjurer, sitting inside his circle and, well. Jim doesn't know what he's doing exactly. Meditating, perhaps? Or praying. That seems more likely than the first given the circumstances.
Jim hasn't hardly dared to breathe yet. His lingerings have been as far back as possible to avoid being spotted but Felix is so still across from his shrine of ice that he must have made. It looks as though it should fall from this angle. But there's a deep creak not unlike glaciers shifting and Jim is hurrying forward as quietly as he can. Ready to pull Felix out of the way of the collapsing formation of ice except it's not collapsing. It's resting. Crouched down across from Felix and most definitely not inanimate no matter how still it is now. Remembering the fluid form of the flame atronach and the jagged swiftness of the lightning caller shifts his perspective just enough for Jim to understand what it is he's staring at sitting so still across from Felix.
Is it any wonder that a man lacking any sort of magic or contact with the gods would gasp however quietly?
Here sits a creature entirely of ice and frost. A destruction spirit not unlike the others Felix has summoned in the past. Is this one larger because Felix himself favors the frost element? Is it more easily able to work with him with their magical acuities aligned? It's power shimmers across its faceted limbs. Flows onto the floor in the space between them. Covers everything---including Felix---in a layer of frost. The captain's heart lodges itself into his throat until he spies a soft cloud of breath slip out from Felix.
Another. Steady and constant. Without labor. Without pain. Felix is alright, whatever it is he's doing.
The intimate Otherness of this scene is a knife that plunges between Jim's cold weather gear and pierces his heart. What is he in all of this? An outsider, an interloper. Here to break the steady thrum of magic in the air. A buzzing Jim can just barely feel at the back of his neck but cannot understand.
He's no mage. Jim doesn't belong here.
But where else should he be if not his husband's side? Amid swirling poisonous thoughts and a sea of uncertainty as vast as the galaxy he's set to explore there exists also a pillar built on years of trust earned, chipped and marred though it may be. Affections given freely. Nights sacrificed to care for one another. No matter how strong the bitter urge to break the ritual circle and drag Felix from it demanding answers whispers pulls at the captain he refuses to be drug into its undertow. He bears the scars of choosing to trust in Felix when no other will already. What's the potential for one more?
Slowly, carefully. Jim settles down just outside the ritual circle to wait for his husband. Jim doesn't like it but he doesn't have to. Felix made this decision without him. If he's needed he'll be here. Otherwise...
Kirk waits quietly in the dark both literally and metaphorically.