Felix Caelus

Neither of the brothers objects, but they're both watching closely as Nereus takes Jim's hand and passes one of his own over it. A faint pink glow tinges the air between them, limns both of their skin, and Jim's likely to feel an odd sensation, like something ethereal plucking at him gently. Nereus's eyes are distant before he lets the magic face and pulls away.

"I thought you might carry some trace of your plane's magic with you," he explains. "A residue of something truly foreign. And yet I don't sense anything strange. It must be true that your plane has very little magic. Perhaps you're at an advantage over a mage, in that respect."

"A conjurer could tell," Felix says quietly. "But only if they're good enough. And most of them only study the flashy spells, anyway."