nexus_crossings | Into a Rising Wind

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Into a Rising Wind

Winter holds the Nexus in its jaws, and its teeth sink ever deeper.

A month into the storm, the snow has yet to stop falling. The number of mouths to be fed has stopped dwindling, almost. Occasionally people go missing, and those who notice hope they’ve found a way back through their portals. It’s not enough to change the maths on their food supplies - all their supplies. Nobody is getting a full meal at a time, not any more. Isidor and Lyall have begun to enforce the rationing with iron hands. Both ignore the look that crosses Captain Kirk’s face when they upbraid a volunteer cook for being too generous – the look that lingers on Runa’s face if she’s close enough to hear. They’re doing what they must. They need a tight hold on their supplies if they want to get people through this. They need supplies even to send expeditions after more.

And expeditions are a difficult prospect now. Those who ventured into the storm and returned have brought stories that spread faster than Isidor hoped. The Crossroads Cafe has become a semi-official hub for those travelling outside or keeping watch on the bounds, a safe resting place kept warm by the combined power of Pokemon and Persona. In the long dark nights, people sit around the tables and share what they've seen, what they've heard from this scout or that refugee. Whispered tales of the creatures out there hunting in packs, hounding people from rooftops, even tearing open walls to reach them…

No-one goes out alone, now. Those brave enough to take the risk go in groups and arm themselves with the best weapons they can find. Sometimes they’re a risk to themselves. Not everyone knows how to handle that black market plasma pistol they picked up two days past. Not all of their team-mates keep their nerve when a figure looms out of the snows beside them. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s run afoul of monsters, and who of their own folly. Safer, but little less brave, are the people recruited to keep watch on that shifting line of torches. Just a precaution. The creatures don’t come past it, everyone says. But quietly, everyone doubts.

There've been bright moments, too. A strange alchemist comforting a lost child. An expedition team fighting their way home, back to back. Families brought safely through the snow by soldiers and wizards, by heroes young and old and sometimes surprising. A volunteer cook stepping up to prepare, if not quite a hundred thousand meals, then something that feels close. A young man saving the life of a stranger who'd threatened him. The past weeks have seen people who may never have known one another before come together to offer a blanket, or guiding words, or a helping hand in a search. Small moments, glowing reminders of how much good the people of the Nexus have on their side. But the Winter goes on, and the winds never get less bitter, and the smiles get more strained with every day.

Slowly the line of torches close on the Plaza, a noose no-one can afford to flee. Sheltered space is at a premium. Most of those who remain are settled as close to the centre as they can be. Whether in the big public bunker or the Cafe, people find themselves crammed all together, and tempers regularly fray among residents not too cold and exhausted for fighting. The more responsible Nexus-goers find themselves trying to duck out of (or break up) fights, or spending hours stuffing drafty accommodation with any insulation they can find. There’s snow to be shoveled from doors, pipes to be defrosted, bandages to be changed. Anything’s better than dealing with the problem of working bathrooms.

At one end of the Plaza headquarters, a makeshift screen has been dragged into place to give a semblance of privacy to Isidor’s desk. It’s painfully early in the morning, though the nights are so long and the days so dim beneath the storm clouds there’s little sense of time any more. There’s no-one around yet to wonder about the meeting going on. The only people present are Isidor, Lyall and a handful of senior volunteers – those who remain. Blaze-37 crouches by a makeshift fireplace, stacking the salvaged wood just right before she punches it lightly, setting it alight with the flames that ripple over her fist. The other robot, Ghost, is hovering over the desk playing flashlight for them, shining a pale beam over the maps and reports laid out there. Light, too, is a precious resource, as batteries die and outlets are lost to encroaching Winter. It’s the only reason those here have gotten sleep. They work until they have no light to work by.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Suou?” the Guardian asks when Isidor says they can begin.

“Officer Suou won’t be coming.”

That’s part of why they’re here, Isidor explains. The torches’ march has taken them past the Grand Library. The Crossroads Café is now on the very edge of the safe zone, along with all the people sheltering there. Katsuya’s magic is the only thing that will protect it. He can’t leave. It’s a turning point that only drives home the larger problem: they’re running out of time. They’re running out of everything. Most refugees are in some kind of shelter by now; what they lack is food to keep them alive and fuel to keep them warm. Isidor’s volunteers have counted heads and counted tins and counted everything backwards and forwards and the numbers never get better. Either they do something now, while they have the strength, or the meals will run dry in two weeks. Less, if anything goes wrong.

She lets that sink in. Nobody looks surprised: she’s confirming their worst suspicions and that gets a few flinches, but they understand. They talk, instead. By the time there’s a hint of daylight outside and someone knocks on the door for the first shot at rations, they have a plan. They need an expedition, bigger than any before. They need enough arms to discourage attack, the skills to get them to any buried supplies and the numbers to haul them back in quantity. Each of them walks away from the table with a mission in mind and an air of grim determination.

They have a job to do, and they’re going to need help.

((As before, so below: the main missions/subquests for the expedition prep are listed below. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. The OOC Post can be found here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note

Scouting the Expedition | A Fistful of Torches | Scrapyard Sweep | The Home Front | Medical Attention | Isidor's Expedition Call | Main Expedition: The Raid

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At some point there was another place, an open room gaping cold and dark around him. He's dimly aware of the sensations he left behind: creeping cold, gnawing hunger. Stiff aches. Fluttering fear. All very far away now. He doesn't feel much of anything, in those other terms. He simply is.

His mind is suspended, reaching out along that link between conjurer and conjured daedra, locked in attempted communion with a mind far older and far less mortal than his. Its mind is a smooth, unyielding surface; it shifts at its own speed, slow to give away any hint of what passes within its crystalline depths. He senses the shadows of thoughts; the glacial grind of the world around (it/him/them). The cold is contentment. The stone walls are confinement, but confinement is untroubling. When the time comes, all stone gives way. Outside is the pulse and whirl and song of wind-borne ice, and the ice sings back to it, slow and deep. This is well. This is the time of frost...

A breath of warm air. An incremental point of heat nearby, beyond the mortal/corpus/self before them/it. Confusing but unimportant. He's trying to understand without losing himself this time, to remember that he needs to ask a question as well as how to comprehend the answer...

And then he's floundering, held in place by his wards and bindings as a jagged organic sound shakes the air. Don't panic. Don't panic. Reach for the wards. Reach for himself- and the wards give a silent twang as they snap into place and Felix is flung back into himself, bent over with palms on the frosted floor trying to cough up the ice crystals he inhaled. The frost atronach makes not an iota of response.

The satchel Felix carries on him is resting next to Jim. The captain's rummaged through its contents and pulled out one of the few dwindling cold resistance potions just in case Felix has need of it. If he had to take out a bet Jim would assume Felix had taken one before sitting down to conduct this ritual with the living ice across from him but perhaps that is only wishful thinking for Felix's well being on Jim's part.

Even with his gear sitting on this chilled floor so near the glacial creature has the captain rubbing at his arms every so often to keep them from getting too cold. He dares not take any of the draughts for himself, not for a comfort. Especially not when Felix seems to have a very real need for them to safely do...whatever this is he's witnessing. Something that looks peaceful but for that nearly imperceptible thrum of energy hanging in the air.

Waiting and patience have never been Jim's strong suits but he's too weak to pace about. Energy wasted is energy lost in these times. It means when Felix makes a sudden noise before jerking forward in a coughing fit Jim is ready and waiting to get his feet underneath him and reach forward into the boundaries of the circle with no sense of his own safety to get a steadying hand on the conjurer's shoulder.

"Easy. Breathe. Do you need one of the potions?"

Edited 2019-03-03 16:40 (UTC)

Something feels like it snaps and there's a soft burst of light as some of the wards are disrupted. He feels the atronach stir, but it doesn't get up. He's not good at processing words for a minute - there's a sound in his ears, a human sound, and he's not sure why it brings that spiking sensation in his gut. It's pure instinct in control, the overwhelming need to breathe making him cough and gasp until he can pull air into his lungs unhindered. Uncomfortably, but unhindered. He breathes in and out harshly, until he pushes himself up and realizes there's a weight-

A hand. That's it. Someone's holding his shoulder. A voice, talking to him. He turns to peer at the source, disoriented and still trying to find his way back to himself. Recognition kicks back in. Not a stranger. Someone who wasn't supposed to be here...

"'mfine," he assures the man automatically. "'Sjust a ritual, don't step in it-" Is the circle holding? He swings back quickly to check the atronach. Still there. Still calm, to his relief. No-one was supposed to walk in. No-one was supposed to be-

But he is here.

He makes a startled, worried noise before he looks back to Jim, unease written over his face even though framing questions is a little beyond him for a moment. "What are you doing here?"

He has no sense of how long it's been, except that he hasn't quite frozen solid. Was he missing into the night? How badly did he miscalculate that Jim has found him?

To Jim's untrained eye the magic is just fine even with him reaching into the circle. He damn well would have stepped inside if Felix hadn't slurred at him not to just to get an arm around the mage to pull him out of the circle. But Felix has and Jim knows enough to listen, at least mostly.

"I can see that much." There's no hiding the frustration in Jim's voice but it is muted. Overshadowed by his relief that Felix seems to be alright and in one piece. "Are you seriously asking me that right now?" Felix is here. What other reason does he need?

"Making sure you're alright, for starters. You look half frozen."

The frost on his eyelids and cheeks cracks as he blinks his eyes clear, still sucking in breath. "F... frozen..." he echoes, the word meaningless to him. He feels the cold, the stillness in his limbs, but cold is welcome. I am the ice. In deepest frost I belong...

He could stay here forever. He doesn't want to go back to the mortal aches and hunger-gnawed belly. Not yet. He has work to do. But that voice drags him back because it's wrong, he wasn't supposed to be here, he can't be here even if the mage is beyond articulating why that was. And now he/they've been found.

Floundering, he reaches out and gestures with a hand. The daedra collapses into thin air and a scattering of sparks; the thin spell-lines around them fall dark. There's just the flickering candles to light the room as Felix coughs again.

"You... you're supposed to be at the desk." He doesn't understand. Jim went there, didn't he? He checked before he walked out the door, wound his footsteps through the snow to this... lair. And now he's beginning to shiver, violently, as if his body's just realized it's not meant to be so cold.

"Who's your friend?" Jim hardly gets a chance to gesture to the daedra before Felix is banishing it away, back into the aether until the conjurer has need of it again. Until he runs off to do whatever it is Jim has caught him doing here, again. Its absence gives Jim comfort if only because that chilling aura disappears with it back into the abyss. The creature itself, while massive, didn't seem to be threatening anything.

Even if it were Jim's confident it wouldn't be threatening him. He's one of the few things Felix goes out of his way to protect. Sometimes to extremes. It's that streak that drives Jim's suspicions now more than the actual conjuration. Felix hides it and speaks poorly of it but to his husband it has always just been more of a fact of his talents. Conjuration is a fundamental part of what Felix is as a mage.

Even if he seems to think still that Jim will think less of him for it.

"I was at the desk." It proves Felix has been trying to hide from him. As good as an admission of guilt. But again, Jim doesn't get the chance to get angry. Not when Felix starts near convulsing from the cold. "Hey, hey! Come here already!" Now he is pulling Felix out of the circle. Into Jim's arms while he tries to rub some feeling back into the mage's chilled skin.

"I've got you."

It is an admission, and on some level Felix is aware he's dug himself deeper here. His head is swimming as he tries to get a grip on where he is and what he is and the fact he's been caught out, but then Jim is dragging him out, away from the ice. The captain's arms wrap around him as Felix shivers and gasps in the frigid air.

"F-ff-f-fuck!" Feeling is starting to catch up with him, and it doesn't make things less disorienting. He wants to recoil from the warm hands rubbing his skin, the wrongness of them- and he wants to nestle against that touch, wants to bask in it. He doesn't know what he wants. What his name is. For a few minutes he's just going to curl against Jim, face buried in the other's coat. He shivers and shivers until his teeth slowly, slowly stop chattering and his breathing begins to ease.

With it, the disorientation begins to pass, but his thoughts remain... sluggish. It's like waking up from an intensely vivid dream in the deepest of sleeps. Awareness creeps back in. The borrowed shop. The ritual circle behind him. His husband... his husband.

"...Fuck."

It's not like Felix to be so quiet. So distant and unaware. It's only after Felix's worst nightmares that he's ever withdrawn like this. It breaks something inside Jim's chest to feel Felix shudder and cling to him with all the desperation of a man who knows nothing else but his immediate surroundings. Usually it's the other way around but Felix's heart is not without its own dark corners.

There's nothing to do but to wait. Jim continues to hold Felix close, rubbing the mage's arms and back to warm him up. He murmurs quiet noises every time Felix splutters through chattering swears. Dips his head to rest his cheek against the top of Felix's head, every warm exhale shifting the conjurer's dark locks.

"I'm here, Felix." He stops his mantra when he feels Felix shift in his arms. Pulls back incrementally so he can peer at Felix amid the gloom. "You with me again?"

Normally Felix would be saying something to him. Even if he had to mumble it in exhaustion he'd be trying to reassure Jim, play off the situation, insist there's nothing at all to worry about. He's just a little cold, he was prepared for this, he's fine...

But here and now, the conjurer is still trying to untangle himself from them. Part of him still thinks he is of the frost, mouthless and eyeless and indifferent to time and touch. It takes time to stop trying to see the world around him through inhuman senses. To remember how to parse the strange narrow sensations from human sight and human skin. To recall his own voice and not that of the ice.

It's not the first time he's done this, however. Felix knows his way back. And unlike every other time he's done this in his life there's someone calling him. A voice in his ears, arms holding him safe. He shivers and gasps unevenly, but by the time Jim pulls back there's more awareness in his expression. His dark eyes are wide, but they focus, shift to meet Jim's gaze. He nods a little, stiffly.

"Y... yeah. Comi...coming out of it. Just. It'll pass." Though he's aware enough to know he doesn't really want to face the conversation that'll lead to. He'd rather sigh and lean back against Jim, drawing comfort and strength from the captain.

Oh good, Felix is okay. Or at least on the way to getting there. The breath that escapes Jim is equal parts relieved and frustrated. His original feelings haven't gone away during all of this, they were just set aside in favor of making sure his husband was going to be alright. That whatever it was Felix was doing here hadn't hurt him in some way. Jim doesn't want to think Felix would do that. The man has so much more self preservation than Jim does, normally.

These aren't normal times though.

"What exactly is it? What kind of ritual is this?" Jim knows enough to say with some certainty that's what he'd been witnessing now, though to what end? Not a clue. Jim's irritation shorts out again when Felix settles his weight against the captain. He wants to hold Felix close and comfort him almost as much as he wants to take the mage by the shoulders and shake him until the man tells Jim what's going on.

"...Felix." It's as patient as Jim can make himself sound, but it is a warning.

He's heard that tone before. Normally when he overhears Jim talking to his crew. The people he's been organizing these past weeks. Felix isn't used to heard it directed at him.

He swallows down the twinge of alarm, the reflexive thought that that's not fair, Jim can't be angry with him, he's only doing his best to help. It's an uneasy moment before he mumbles, "Frost atronach. An... elemental. I was communing with it."

Atronach.

Like the woman of flame he's seen Felix summon before. Jim's initial guess had been closer than he'd realized. A spirit of elemental energy if he's remembering Felix's 'Basic Magical Facts' lessons properly. For as much learning about each other's worlds as they've done for the last few months, Felix has been so tight lipped about his own school of magic. At the time, Jim hadn't questioned it.

Felix would tell him in time.

Now though, the captain has to wonder. Would he? He's been hiding this from Jim of all people for who even knows how long. To what end? Jim thinks about how calm and peaceful Felix was during the ritual. How the cold only seemed to catch up with him after it was broken.

"Does it make it easier to get by?" If Felix is doing this to ease his own pain and suffering for this damnable winter, is that really so bad? "Doesn't it make things worse when you...come back?"

"Easier?" He doesn't understand what Jim means for a minute or two. "It... no." He very nearly killed himself the first time he did this. His mortal body is no less vulnerable during the ritual; he took a potion to resist the cold but they have so few left, he's stretching them farther and farther. But he stops himself from saying so. It won't make this any better from Jim's point of view.

"I just... wanted to talk to it. But it doesn't speak the way... this is the only way to understand. Th-this winter. Needed to know what it would see."

Jim can't help the sigh of exasperation that slips out through his nose while he makes himself listen. There's something here that isn't adding up. Why would Felix need to hide something like this if it's a ritual to try and help them all survive this? Why has he waited so carefully for Jim to be gone to attempt this?

What dangers lie in this innocuous space that he stepped into unthinkingly? That would be a reason to hide it. If it were dangerous Jim damn well would want to know about it. His fingers grip Felix slightly tighter.

"Okay. Intel is something we do very sorely need." Why won't Felix just tell him what's going on? "But...?"

He knows what's being asked even if he can't process the words fully. Shrugs a bit where he's curled against Jim. He's not sure how to describe all the many reasons he'd hesitate to share what he's done here.

Besides, the atronach is only a part of it.

"...It's risky. This. Wasn't sure I could do it at first. Had to keep it out of sight. Knew it'd be... well. Dangerous." He winces against Jim's coat, already anticipating how his husband will respond to that word.

"For you or for everyone else?"

Jim pulls his head back enough so that his eye rolling is aimed toward the ceiling rather than anywhere Felix could see. All of Felix's gods does he hate how similar they are sometimes. This is exactly the sort of thing Jim would have pulled if he thought it would help. Doesn't make him any less frustrated with the fact that Felix had to come do this. That Jim hasn't been able to make enough of a difference for it to count.

"Forget it. I'm not the mage here. You're the expert." As much as Jim would love to pick a fight there's simply not much fight left in him that isn't drawing from a place he's been trying so hard not to reach into. He's sure he'll have to if things progress. Isidor needs his advice. They all need to make it out of here.

Whatever it takes.

"I can't stay here for long. They're putting together an expedition. A big one. I've got to go prepare." Dangerous but necessary. Felix is doing what he feels he has to and so is Jim. The captain's just not hiding his decision to put himself in harms way. "Can I get you back to the cafe? You need to rest."

"Potentially? ...Both." He's hesitant to say it. Any of it. But he needs Jim to understand, there's a reason he didn't want to pull anyone into this who didn't need to be there. His hands squeeze on Jim's arms and there's a hint of apology in it. He knows this is bothering Jim, he knows there's an equally good reason for his nearly-husband to dislike the rituals and concealment. But it's not because of Jim...

He can't miss the tightness or the weariness in Jim's voice when he says to forget it. You're the expert. Felix pulls away enough to peer at him, trying to read his face... and frowning even deeper at the news. An expedition? Something in the way he says it- Felix has been out of the loop too much.

"...Yeah. Please. I... didn't want to drag you out here." He's not really in the mindset to handle people (mortals, fleshy, noisy, petty) now. But he needs to know what's going on. "What expedition? Where to?"

Sigh.

Jim nods and lets Felix pull away, even if it's not far. That's about as much as he'd have figured. He forces out a soft noise at the squeeze to his arms. An apology he knows he's given Felix before. Sorry for worrying you. Even if it's going to happen again.

"You've got to start putting a bit more faith in me, Felix." He's so tired of saying it but he'll say it every time. Until Felix finally believes him. Or until he's shouting it one day when he's got enough energy to have a proper temper. "I could have..."

Please.

Yeah. Yeah, Jim knows this isn't the time. The captain shifts and shrugs out of his coat to pull it around Felix's shoulders. The walk isn't far. Jim will tough it out and Felix needs it more than he does at the moment.

"Put this on and I'll get you back. You can lay down and sleep this off." What he wouldn't give to be able to be somewhere warm and safe and able to pull Felix against him now. But that isn't the reality they're in. There's no time. "My scouts have found a large stockpile of food out beyond the torches. Everyone's gearing up and prepping the volunteers. They're going to need someone to lead them."

Out past the torches where monsters lurk in the blowing snow. Where bodies come back headless if they come back at all.

"We need this to work if the people here are going to survive. The odds are better if we get as much experience out there as possible." So of course, Jim's going with. "I'll make sure we bring it back. Imagine a nice warm meal right about now would do us both some good."

Jim could have helped. It's what he wants to say, Felix knows. And he could have been hurt, which is a little of what Felix fears, or he could have seen something to repulse and horrify him about the truth of the conjurer's work. But most of all, he could have learned the true scope of Felix's negotiations - the kind of things he's been trying to ask, and the beings he's considered asking. And if he did that, well, he probably wouldn't approve.

He's too out of it to come up with a soothing comment, any kind of excuse. And maybe that's for the best. It's a good time to keep quiet and listen and let go any protest about taking Jim's coat.

His thoughts, such as they are, come to a screeching halt when Jim mentions leadership. His head snaps up to look at Jim, stiff and reddened fingers clutching with difficulty at the coat around him. "You're going out there?"

The clumsy gesture of his hand nonetheless points toward the boundary so close by down the street. They both know exactly what it looks like, that freezing chaos kept just at bay by the torches. And yet even in the moment he blurts out that fearful question he knows the answer. He knows Jim Kirk, after all.

If it's for Felix, there's very little Jim wouldn't at least consider doing. He wonders sometimes if Felix knows that. If he believes it no matter how often Jim tells him he means the world to the captain. It scares him that he's so fiercely devoted to someone else but he's long since accepted that this was just going to be the way of life for them. It doesn't mean they're going to see eye to eye all the time.

Like now, for example. Felix stalking off on his own to perform rituals without any kind of safety net in place. No one here to help him if something went wrong. If Jim hadn't been waiting here would Felix have been okay when he snapped out of it? At the same time, Felix knows how had Jim's been pushing himself. How weak it's left the captain despite all his attempts to hide it. Hurting himself so someone else can have a bit more. And now he's going out there. Out past the torches where danger lurks. To feed a den full of mostly strangers.

"It has to be done, Felix. We're going to starve if we don't do something. Whether this is the right call or not doesn't matter anymore. It's the only call we've got. We either see this through, or people die."

But you don't have to go. He knows better than to say it. Jim has been pushing himself to the limit of his own resources - physical and otherwise. He's cut back on meals, on sleep, on rest, always trying to do that little bit more for the others. Always trying to stay ahead of the demons that haunt his thoughts. To even suggest that he should stay back this time, that he should let the others take the risks or that he's not up to it...

Felix holds his tongue. Nods slowly. His mind is racing. This is it. He's tried so hard to find a way out. Tried to preserve their escape route until it failed, and then searched for some way, any way to save them both before Jim could do something like this. And now it's too late. He's watched his beloved sink deeper and deeper into nightmare-haunted exhaustion, the calm mask cracking a little more each day, and now Jim's going to get himself killed trying to drive out the shadow of Tarsus.

Because Felix has failed him.

Unless...

"How long until... how long do we have to prepare?" He's distant again, biting his lip.

There's that suspicious lack of complaint from Felix again, and this time Jim watches him carefully. But no, Felix is still not himself, not entirely. He needs sleep and rest. Jim's hardly up for a fight so it's easy to assume Felix is likewise as exhausted. Spent down to the marrow of his bones.

Jim's leading him toward the door, now. He has Felix's satchel in one hand. The other is wrapped around the mage's shoulders to steady him as they walk.

"We're getting volunteers ready for training and task assignment now. Best guess is we're about three days out. It's going to work." Because it has to. Damn the odds or anything else that tries to get in their way. "It's got to."

Edited 2019-03-11 21:04 (UTC)

He looks around for his satchel when they're almost to the door, and there's a moment's delay as he panics. But he spots it in Jim's hand and slumps again, mind still abuzz. It's very easy to believe, right now, that he's just not thinking coherently enough to raise his normal objections.

"Yeah. ...Yeah." He grabs at Jim's coat just as the captain puts his hand on the door to force it open again. Peers up at his husband through damp bangs. "You'll... you'll take the potions. At least."

"Won't you need some for your rituals?" Jim hasn't told Felix not to continue trying to get information. Not to do this. He doesn't like that Felix is putting himself in danger but it's not as though Jim is doing any different. They're all making the calls that have to be made. Making sacrifices for the greater good.

As much as Jim wants to tell Felix he's got it handled, the truth is they need every advantage they can get.

"If I can't be here to make sure you're safe and able to recover, you should at least have the potions."

"I'll take the magicka ones. Sure. You need the others more." One concession. Felix pulls a wry smile as he finds Jim's gaze. "You can't summon up a flame atronach for yourself."

And he needs to persuade Jim that he's fine with this expedition plan.

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Into a Rising Wind

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