Felix Caelus

The last time Jim came to Bruma was upon the tail-end of a waking nightmare. The last time he walked the streets was just before he descended into a crypt to rescue Felix from himself. Hardly the circumstances to let him appreciate the snowbound town perched high in the Jerrall Mountains above Cyrodiil.

How much has changed, though. It’s afternoon in Bruma, and Felix is leading them out of the alleys behind the house, the pair of them bundled up against the cold. The snow has been swept to one side of the streets, and the town’s citizens are going about their day, from rugged fur-wrapped hunters to young women in bright cloaks heading for the chapel. The smell of smoke is on the wind as Felix takes his fiance’s hand and leads them up to the old familiar door under carved low-slung eaves. The front window shutters are open, and he’s sure they’ll have been spotted already. He lowers his hood and shares a look with Jim, a small smile before he knocks on the varnished wood.

Terentius doesn’t move too fast these days, and he’s half-consciously expecting a couple of minutes’ reprieve while they wait. Instead the door opens within seconds. He finds himself looking – up – at- gods, he does look so much like Stratos, doesn’t he? His complexion’s lighter and his face is lined; perhaps this man is a little heavier built than Stratos… and he’s smiling. Widely, genuinely, stepping back to gesture them both in. He’s clearly had time to change, whatever clothes he traveled in exchanged for a set of dark blue and gold robes.

“Come, come, it’s too cold to stand in the street.” Time in foreign parts has diminished his Brumese accent, but it’s still stronger than Felix’s: the vowels more drawn out, the hard consonants softer. “And here you are at last. Felix-” and now he’s pulling his slightly dazed son into an embrace as fierce as it is brief, before standing back to look at him, “I’m glad to see you. And to congratulate you!” He turns to look at Jim properly, eyes bright with interest. “This must be-?”

“Captain James Tiberius Kirk,” Felix says with quiet pride. “My betrothed, father. Jim, may I introduce my father, Legate Nereus Caelus of the Seventh Legion.”

His birthday may have passed, but Jim’s no less in need of a good outing to lift his spirits. At least, in Felix’s judgment. Besides, the plans were laid: properly forewarned, Verity’s supplied a generous picnic; Felix himself has scouted their destination and procured a couple of sleds that might survive the day.

He’s also been careful to forewarn Jim, so that his text won’t come as a surprise.

We’re clear to go. Do you need any help with that armor?