smartass_captain | Picking up the Pieces ( for conjuredskies )

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felix caelus

Picking up the Pieces ( for conjuredskies )

They made it out alive.

It still hasn't quite sunk in fully yet. Jim's body still tensed and coiled with every step ready to go into fight or flight mode at the drop of a hat. Everything hurts. His hand feels like he's grabbing a redhot wire with every beat of his heart. Both knees are bloody with glass, dirt and who knows what else in the wounds. He's bruised literally everywhere and his stomach doesn't know what the fuck is going on anymore the way he's been swinging between starvation and mildly hungover. The concept of relaxing being fought tooth and nail by his body's override of survive that pushes him to keep moving keep fighting get somewhere safe.

Even with Felix in hand, Jim feels like he's lost a limb coming back to the ship without his younger counterpart. We go together or not at all. We go together or not at all. But even that ended up in tragedy. The younger captain changed and warped, turning into just another Jim Eating Monster and that's a blow Jim doesn't need. Not being able to even trust himself.

Jim's unaware that Felix has maneuvered him onto his couch until he's suddenly sitting and his knees scream with the protest of bending. A shaky gasp of pain eeks out of Jim's throat that he tries to stifle. Not safe to make noise not safe not safe. Unaware that it's Felix who's calling the lights to thirty percent, who's getting a cup of coffee from the replicator. Who's acting as though they belong in this place. Right now, Jim doesn't feel like a starship captain. His mind is still jammed stuck firmly in the past and to the facades of ghosts who shouldn't have been on Tarsus.

It's going to be a long night.

[This is gonna be a heavy read and deal with trauma and heavy subjects you are warned.]

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Back here again. It's not until he has Jim on the couch and is fetching the coffee that he has a chance to let it sink in. He glances around the room as he comes back, setting the cup down on the table. The last time he was here his mind wasn't his own. The last time he fled in a sweating, shaking terror after he...

No. No no Jim is hurt he has to help Jim. He promised he wouldn't let anything happen to him again. He swallows and hurries to fetch a small basin of warm water, a clean cloth he can use for the wounds. Some of that sharp-smelling disinfectant Jim swears by.

"Keep your legs still," he says firmly. Those knee scrapes are a whole other problem and first he wants to make sure Jim keeps his hand. He sits down beside the captain, reaching for his hand.

"Let me see- was this a knife?" It looks like a knife wound - and from a sharp knife, which is good. Felix bites his lip at the smell of blood, the churning in his stomach at seeing an open wound - on Jim, no less - for the first time since their confrontation in Rielle.

He's alive. He will live. I'm healing him.

"This will sting," he warns gently. "I need you to keep as still as you can, Jim. All right?"

Now normally Jim is The Worst patient this side of the galaxy and everyone knows it. Bones has had to wrangle the captain nearly kicking and screaming to get treated even when all other triage has been done. For something like this where he's not gravely wounded Jim should by all accounts be brushing Felix off, talking about a shower, and then waggling his eyebrows at the suggestion of a Private Healing Session. It's irritating and annoying but it's Jim.

Except that's not the case now.

Jim hasn't tried to move off of the couch once. He watches Felix move around the room with wide eyes still scanning the entire room for threats when they can be bothered to leave Felix for even a moment. Vaguely he registers that he was asked a question and Jim points with his good hand to the knife he's dropped carelessly on the coffee table in front of them. It sits as innocently as a blade can next to the faintly flickering statuette of a dragon. It looks to be about as dirty as Jim is by now.

"S...sliced my palm open." The words come slowly, with jarring reluctance. Felix isn't the younger captain. Jim needs to use his words again. Even trying to think of how to expand on his answer makes something inside him shatter dangerously and his trembling worsens. The prospect of having to explain that hell to someone else opens the ground underneath him. The darkness beyond goes on forever.

Jim doesn't even realize he's rocking until Felix is there telling him to hold still.

"I--yeah. Y-yeah okay." All he can do is try.

Edited 2017-12-02 17:52 (UTC)

His first instinct is to demand to know what Jim did that for. To invite their usual bickering and the exasperated jibes they trade when Felix wants to impress on Jim that he cares if the captain gets hurt. But he can't muster that now - and far more importantly, he's stopped cold by one look at Jim's face, the way he shakes even trying to utter the barest of explanations. The thought of even trying to wrangle an elaboration from him goes tumbling by the wayside.

It doesn't matter. What matters is doing his job. Taking care of the man he loves. The man he nearly killed, comes the whispering thought.

He takes a firm grip on Jim's hand, arm in arm with the captain and twining their fingers to help keep his patient from jerking away when he starts to wash what looks like a painful slice. "I'm going to call a light in a second, all right? I just- I have to see this clearly."

It's delicate work. It's painful, for Jim and for Felix who clenches his jaw at every twitch and jerk he causes. He tries not to think about what he's doing in coming here. What's going to happen after. It doesn't matter. Only Jim matters.

Once the wound is clean then he'll go looking for a healing potion in the closet, cursing to himself when he remembers he didn't leave any here. He took them all, even before that last night. Nothing for it. He's going to have to try and heal Jim himself.

Are they really out? Really? How does Jim know what's real anymore? After having to relive weeks on Tarsus. His counterpart changing into a beast, trying to eat him. How does he know any of this is real? The usually proud and stoic captain flinching back like a frightened child when Felix begins to wash the cut.

"Fuck-!" He can't pull away with Felix holding him here. Can't pull away. Jim lifts his gaze. Strands of Felix's now snow-white hair are hanging in his face while those same dark eyes focus steadfastly on treating his injuries. The conjurer's touch is warm. Alive.

If this was still the Nightmare, shouldn't Felix be the fevered clammy corpse to be? Well on his way to turning into a Lich? They're out. They must be. Felix is here and tending to him. He came back. Rather than try to pull away again Jim's fingers cling desperately to Felix's arm while he watches the conjurer work. It doesn't stop his trembling nor the low sounds he can't help but make but it keeps Jim grounded.

They made it out. Felix is here with Jim.

"Wait." The word hurts and Jim doesn't want to do this but he grabs Felix's sleeve tighter. Needs to do this. He's Jim Kirk and that means trusting Felix even when the rest of the world doesn't. "I need you t...to know something."

Needs Felix to meet his gaze.

"It was. W-was Tarsus IV." Jim can't say more than that. Not yet when even that brings the bile rising in his throat as he shakes harder. But he needs Felix to know why he's scared still and more importantly that it's not because he's alone with Felix.

Felix doesn't really have words for the way his heart jumps when Jim tells him to wait. But that one feeble word is enough to render the conjurer stock-still, eyes a little wider as they seek Jim's. He still hasn't lowered his hood, but the magelight he summoned overhead illuminates his magic-bleached hair.

"Tarsus..." The name sticks in his throat. When they said 'nightmare realm', he hadn't really thought about what it meant. Hadn't dared to. Well, now he can see. Now he begins to understand.

I'm sorry, he wants to say. I tried to get you back. I should never have left your side. Those words catch, too. This is no time for excuses. But the nagging thoughts are back - Jim was sucked straight into one of his worst nightmares already tonight. What is Felix being here, in th- in his quarters, going to do to him?

This was a worse idea than even he thought.

"I understand," he says quietly, squeezing Jim's arm in turn. "You're out now. You escaped. You're safe here. I promise." And whatever it takes to make Jim feel safer, he'll do it.

"I know." His good hand pulls at Felix even as Jim's shifting forward and burying his face in the conjurer's shoulder before Felix can pull away. Feels tears slipping down his face in relief at Felix's warmth pressed against his cheek. Felix isn't cold to the touch. He's alive and here. This is no nightmare, not anymore. "I know I'm out."

He still winces when he pulls back away and sits properly again. Every ebb of the adrenaline from his system leaves more aches than he had allowed himself to deal with until this moment. Everything hurts. Jim's tired, filthy and weak. Tries to drag his brain through what the proper response to Felix's worries is but takes a long time to do it.

Letting go of the fading fight or flight response is difficult though. All it leaves is an emptiness full of broken pieces. Something ugly and misshapen that Jim's only shown Felix a few times. Jim hates this and he shakes and his inevitable breakdown inches steadily forward.

"H...heals first. Then." A pause while Jim wracks his brain. "A bath?"

"Anything. Anything you want." Felix's throat is tight, his own cheeks wet. Jim wants him here. Jim wants him close. He has a hand running through Jim's hair without thinking, heart pounding with mingled joy and fear.

"I'll... I'll get the potions." He has to pull away. Has to go looking, though in the end it's fruitless and he sits back down with Jim. Trying to hide the uncertainty in his face. "Okay. Let me... let me try this."

He's trying not to balk when the restoration magic flows over his hands. But the feel of it makes him flinch and let the spell die. Twice. Eventually he swallows and closes his eyes, wrapping his hands around Jim's wounded one and focusing on that. On the warmth of Jim's skin. On what he has to do.

I'm healing him, I need to heal him, I don't care if it hurts... The chant is silent, but his lips move along with it, so intense is his concentration. Don't think about how it feels. Just keep it flowing forward, through his hands and outward. Into the flesh that must knit, the skin that must close.

The captain's quarters aren't large enough for Felix to ever leave Jim's line of sight but he still trembles like a helpless frightened animal the moment Felix pulls away from him. Clings too readily and too quick when the mage sits back down with him.

Pathetic. He's pathetic. But he doesn't care right now. Not so long as Felix is here and Jim can cling to him. Too weak to stifle the whimper of pain when both hands grab hold of his wounded one. Being blind to magic as he is, Jim won't notice Felix struggling with the spell right away. His sense of time is still distorted. By the time he does think to look down the soothing warmth of Felix's magic is finally washing over his hand and easing the pain.

Dulling it first to an ache, then a warm soothing itch as the skin starts to pull itself together under Felix's guidance. A small bit of tension bleeds out of Jim's shoulders and he sags slightly in his seat. Sighs in relief of a pain gotten rid of.

"Th..thank you."

He's missed Jim painfully the last few weeks. Hazy as they've been, even shut away in his childhood house where no Jim ought to be expected, the captain's absence has been a gaping emptiness at his side, a silence hanging in every room. No-one to steal the blankets from each night, no warm arms draped over him in the night, no waking up to a blinding smirk as he's poked in the cheek.

He asked Stratos, tentatively. He saw the first message from Jim and after that hid his phone where he wouldn't hear it. He'd told himself he shouldn't see Jim yet and he wasn't sure, really, how much that was true and how much was his fear of the conversation he knew would have to come.

Because he couldn't expect Jim to accept him back. Not after what he did. Knowing that Jim loved him enough to come and save him in spite of it - in spite of what he'd become - hurts too much to bear. Felix can't even accept his actions. How could Jim live with them? He has enough memories haunting him already.

And yet here they are. Jim's clinging to him with all the trust and love Felix knows he's already thrown on the pyre and he's trembling with longing for what he no longer has a right to. He swallows. Has to make himself let go of Jim's hand. Thank all the gods it worked.

"You don't..." He checks himself. Keep it simple. "It's the least I owe you, Jim." He reaches for the coffee. "Can you hold on to this now? It might help. I should start on your knees, and then we can get that steel off you."

"You're here and safe. T..that's all that matters." It's not the first time Jim's said as much but he still means it just as much as he had before. Not dying in a dirty back alley on Tarsus. Bleeding out because he tried to come and save Jim. Felix has let go of Jim's hand but the captain hasn't let go of Felix yet. It's difficult to make himself let go when he still has the image of Felix dying in his arms burned into his retinas.

Knows he's going to have nightmares about that for years to come.

"I love you so much." It's out of Jim's mouth before he can stop himself. Knows that this isn't the time or the place for such things but he watched Felix die earlier this evening and Jim can't not say as much now that he has the chance. "I've missed you--" He's nearly sobbing now, shaking so bad that he's in danger of spilling the coffee all over himself and probably Felix.

"S..sorry. I'm sorry."

His own hands are unsteady as he takes the spilling cup from Jim's hands. Wonders if this is the shock talking, if Jim will come to his senses and decide that Felix is the last person he needs around him. Wishes that he won't. Knows it makes no difference. If all Jim needs is someone to comfort him against this night's terrors, someone who knows his secrets and won't share them... Felix will give that, and gladly.

And then Jim says I'm sorry and the fortress gates fall open and the imprisoned words all come pouring out of him again. He doesn't know where he's set the cup but his hands are at Jim's cheeks. Holding him, touching him, brushing the damp tears away from his skin while the Imperial's tongue runs loose.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I hid from you, I'm sorry for what I did to you, I'm sorry for making you come for me. I love you, and I always loved you, and by the gods and daedra and whoever fucking else I am so, so fucking sorry I ruined everything." He gasps for air, refusing to sob. Not when he has to say this. "I've missed you every moment since you brought me home. And I... I shouldn't be doing this now. I'm... I'll look at your knees. I just... whatever I can give you, it's yours. If you want it."

The noise Felix makes has Jim crying all over again, unable to stop. It's not just pain he's feeling; there's genuine relief and happiness at Felix reassuring Jim that he still loves the captain no matter how broken he is. Assurance that he hasn't abandoned Jim entirely and moved on like so many have before.

Felix is here and he loves Jim. Two years together and still Jim can hardly believe it. That the worthless child deemed unworthy of even living has someone who loves him like this. He doesn't deserve these emotions but Jim is selfish. He doesn't want to let go of them now that he's experienced them.

The Nightmare's terrors and trauma don't leave him in much of a state for deep conversation just yet, however. Jim hears the pain in Felix's voice but he can't process the nuances of what the other is saying yet. The implications that he'll go away once Jim is healed so as not to burden the other more than necessary. That Felix still thinks their situation is unsalvageable.

In the moment all Jim hears is 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you' and he cries because for once in his life he is allowed to do so without fear of repercussion. He cries for the horrors he relived. For the lies that place made him convinced were true. For nearly choosing to die rather than push on and come back to Felix's side. For the raw helpless feeling of being loved and knowing he does not deserve it.

Jim cries for several minutes.

There's no way of knowing when he gets himself under control again. When the sobs that wrack his body relent enough for him to catch his breath. Finally lets go of Felix and slumps back against the couch. Felix still has a job to do, and Jim thinks he can sit still without touching him long enough to let him do it now.

Everything is raw and exposed. Jim's too tired for vitriolic self loathing after his display though he vaguely realizes how pathetic he must look. Too broken to process human emotions without having a complete breakdown. Why Felix still cares for him, Jim doesn't know.

"Ju...just stay. Please." He won't give Felix any more trouble. Will let him finish treating the captain's wounds.

Edited 2017-12-05 02:01 (UTC)

"I won't leave." Felix kneels before him, shaken and raw. It takes a long minute to pull his eyes from Jim's face. To take his thoughts from the aching gladness that fills his chest when Jim asks those words. "Until you say otherwise. I won't abandon you again."

He doesn't care any more if it's a wise promise or a realistic or a kind one. Jim still wants him. Still loves him. Jim went into a crypt filled with horrors of Felix's own making and brought him back and he still cares for the conjurer. If Jim has any doubt of Felix's devotion to him, it's written all over his face in this moment.

But he needs to attend the rest of Jim's wounds. Felix works the boot from his injured leg gently before he sets to cleaning it, quick and careful. "Sort of lucky you were wearing this armor. At least I don't have to cut pants off you."

There's a joke there but Jim doesn't take the bait. He's still processing the relief that courses through him with Felix promising he'll stay. Jim's so tired. The headache he'd had before is pounding now after his crying fit leaving him spent and exhausted on the couch, not even sitting upright properly anymore.

He just wants to sleep. To wake up and have all of this be a bad dream. Everything from the last several months balled up and tossed aside. To open his eyes and have Felix dead to the world underneath him, breathing deep and snoring slightly with an arm wrapped round Jim's waist to hold him while he lays half on the conjurer.

To kiss the other awake and see nothing but mischief and love in those dark eyes. To be healed for the pleasure Jim takes from the act and not because he's injured. To writhe and move with Felix when their breathing turns harsh and to sigh in relaxation after when they share a bath.

That ideal seems so far off and so surreal now. Jim stares down at his hands. The one freshly cleaned and healed in contrast to the other--filthy, bloody. Dust and blood under his fingernails trapping the dead Tarsus soil to his body. The reality is his dirty hand. The reality is Felix leaning over him choking the life out of him. Is that twisted ruin of stone and the undead that Felix created. Is the empty seat next to him at the bar on Halloween, before he was trapped in the Nightmare.

Can they go back to how they were before?

Felix shaken and unsure of himself, Jim broken and exhausted. Do they still fit together like they used to? The captain's shaky gaze lifts from his hands and watches Felix on the floor, tending to his knees.

"We...w-we're gonna be okay, right?"

He doesn't answer, for a long minute. Sponges dirt from Jim's scraped knees and pulls the light closer to spot any shards of embedded glass or debris. But he doesn't lie. Not to Jim. Maybe he should, should know the right words to make things easier for both of them. But all that's been stripped back in the emotions at work tonight, the last of his self-control lost the moment Jim was taken from him again. He's too raw to be clever. He might regret that.

"I don't know," he mumbles. "I don't know how you can even look at me now." How Jim can trust him to be here. The guilt is creeping back, the flashes of recall that have tormented him since he woke up in his childhood home. He remembers the last time they were together. Jim's exhausted and bloodied face looking up at him from the darkness. Standing on high and smiling down at his terrified anger. Drawing the blades...

"But I'm yours," he makes himself say. Forcing himself back to the present. Trying to reassure Jim even though everything looks bleak in his sight. "No matter what happens, I'll make sure you're okay." If Jim doesn't want him back, Felix will still be there for him in whatever ways he can be.

Jim remembers all too well.

Slinking past fetid corpses walking again in the dark and cold of that hideout of his. Finding Felix and seeing just how much the magic had changed him. Putting down his bow and drawing out his phaser. Not a night goes by that hasn't left Jim waking and trembling to every horrific what if. If they'd come too late. If the magic hadn't worked properly. If Jim had become just one more soul lost in the gem or the blades to sate their hunger.

Until tonight.

Jim still doesn't know it's only been one night. How could it be when he and his younger companion spent enough time on Tarsus IV to be left weeks starving? Bloody, spent, and desperate while they marched through that hell? Only to leave it and find another one. The blood underneath Jim's nails isn't his own. It's Kodos' and Felix's. The phantom that died in his arms before vanishing. The monster responsible for his fate on Tarsus who warped into Khan just to taunt them for willingly taking a life.

And Felix still thinks Jim is too good for him? The blood under his nails stares back accusingly. He didn't need a murderous set of swords to drag him under and change him into a monster. Tarsus IV did it for him years ago. The words drag from his mouth like rotting teeth, each one poison and a hurt but needing to go.

"I killed him. We...we killed him and felt nothing. Decided to much longer before that. Only thing that kept us alive...in..in that hell. Starving and thirsty." His hands shake again but Jim has no strength left. He speaks those words to the darkness and doesn't fight the tears that slip down his face now freely. There is no sob. No wrack in his breath. Just a quiet exhausted acceptance of the reality he's in now.

Felix is alive here, Jim reminds himself. It will have to be enough.

"I'll always look....at you."

The spell he's working on Jim's knees fades as Felix's head jerks up. His eyes search the other man's face, trying to understand. Just what did he do? Why does it hurt so much? He knows Jim isn't like him. His world seems to foster a rejection of war, of the need to kill sometimes.

"Who was it?" he asks quietly. Who could Jim kill that makes him think he's no better than a would-have-been lich? "I know you, Jim. You don't kill easily. You feel too much guilt. You'd sooner die yourself..." And how his voice aches at that last. He knows how he's most likely to lose Jim.

Kodos the Executioner.

The governor of Tarsus IV that with a simple decree declared half of a suffering colony to death to save the other half. Determined men, women, and children to be unworthy to live. Whose decision put a child from Earth through a hell that no one should be forced to suffer just to survive. Protecting two others with him the entire way. How does one describe a man with such a callous disregard for human life? There are evils in the world and this man was one of them.

But that's speaking objectively. Stating facts and reciting history. Here in this personal quarters Felix doesn't get the benefit of a data pad spelling out what happened factually and neatly. He gets his answer from Jim Kirk.

"An unarmed man sitting in his office. Scared....for his life." Jim remembers knocking the pistol from the governor's hand, pinning him to the desk. Can see his younger counterpart dashing forward and burying his bootknife in Kodos' throat. Ripping it out. The blood spraying them both.

Khan's cold approval and laughter that followed when Kodos' body warped. How does it feel, captain?

How does it feel to be just. Like. Me?

"We didn't give him a chance...to beg."

Felix stares up at him, trying to make sense of that. That doesn't sound like the man he knows. It does, he realizes, sound like the way Jim sees himself in his darker moments.

He shakes his head emphatically. "You wouldn't kill without good reason. I know you. If you set out to kill a man then..." No. That isn't what Jim needs to hear. Felix will never believe he committed an unjust killing, but he knows when the captain isn't going to heed such affirmations.

"It was a nightmare, Jim," he says more softly. "An illusion crafted to torment you. It showed you what you feared most. And you fear becoming a killer. That's why it turned you into one."

Felix can feel Jim tense when he tries to argue. He's right. Assuring Jim that any life he deemed necessary to take wasn't worthy to be alive in the first place isn't going to make him feel any better here. After so many centuries of bloodshed, war, and death his people have moved forward toward peace.

Taking a life, even if it was deserved, isn't Jim's way. It goes against everything he stands for. Every life ended by his hands and his choices taking something away from him too.

But oh. Blue eyes regain some of their light. Raise up tentatively to meet Felix's gaze. It was a nightmare designed to torment him. This is true. That's why it made him think Felix had died in his arms. It was why they were starving. And...and why they chose to take a man's life even though it wouldn't save anyone.

As strong as Jim's self loathing is, he can't argue with this. Instead he nods numbly in agreement. His fingers reaching out to cling at Felix's sleeve.

"But it...it's done now." A reminder to himself as much as anything.Maybe the conjurer is right. His relaxation is minute but it's there all the same.

Felix sees that hope return to Jim's expression and the shadow over his heart lightens for the first time in months. It was the right thing to say. He's done with the healing so he sits up by Jim and clasps his hand again for a minute.

"It's done," he affirms. "It's over." He wants nothing more than to just sit here, looking at Jim's face and being here to offer comfort. Something in him still won't settle, though. There's a twist in his gut that only tightens as he sits with Jim. A prickle of his nerves that says, You shouldn't be here. It's too close.

"...Let me clear up and get that plate off you," he says finally. "Your shoulders must be sore by now. I'll be right back." Let Stratos worry about cleaning it - or maybe someone else should. Felix thinks of his brother's harrowed expression earlier. That's a problem for the morning. He pushes himself up, clearing away the bloodied wipes and raided first aid kit besides washing his own hands. Stopping to breathe as calmly as he can for the two minutes he's out of Jim's sight.

It's fine. He's under his own control now. He won't lose it. They're both safe here.

It's fine.

Just don't think about it.

"My everything is...is sore."

Jim confirms Felix's thoughts before the other one is gone, disappeared into the bathroom Jim shares with Spock. Panic seizes at him the moment Felix is out of sight but Jim tries to stop from shaking too badly. Wraps his arms around himself tightly and tries to breathe. Deep breaths, Jim.

Felix is alive and right over there. It's fine. He's not gone the moment he's out of sight.

With his hand and knees healed Jim can move a bit more freely. He leans over to fumble with his boots, slip them off. He only has the one sock on since the other one had been tied round his hand to stop the bleeding. It's about as much as he can manage in the couple of minutes Felix is out of sight.

How is he going to function after tonight?

Get it together, Jim. Get it together.

When Felix returns he's... well, he thinks he's go himself under control. But his face is pale, his heart hammering faster than it has any warrant to. He's too quiet as he sits down again, shuffling close to start unbuckling that armor. He tries, though. Remembers to murmur to Jim now and then. Even tries to joke a little. Once.

"Come on, let's get that off you. It's not your look anyway..." He fumbles his way through each stay and fastening, then helps Jim try to pull the armor off over his head. Has to do it twice, because he forgot to undo a couple of fastenings. Finally the armor's dumped aside, followed by the bloodied undershirt. His hands linger on Jim's skin as he works, squeezing his arms and stroking his back with the need to reassure them both.

"Should get you cleaned up," he mumbles, not knowing why that thought fills him with dread. "Want to try the shower? Or I'll just take care of you..." He really doubts Jim can manage a shower, to tell the truth. But he'll help- he has to. The tightness in his chest doesn't matter, it's what Jim needs.

He nods.

Anything to get the stench of rotting grain, moth eaten curtains, and wet fur out of his nose. To quell the profound feeling of being tainted and unclean that the Nightmare has left him with. To remove the rest of Kodos' blood from his person. Wash it all away.

Jim's rocking back and forth slightly, unaware of the motion.

"N...need to get clean. I'm not sure a sonic's g-gonna do the trick this time."

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Picking up the Pieces ( for conjuredskies )

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