[ He loves Vulcan with a sense of familiarity that acts as a consequence of Prime's emotional mind-meld, yet that isn't all. It's his Spock's home, oops, I guess you are mine, sorry, it's beautiful and arid with an honesty to it that bred his friend. I could stay. Jim could remain in those memories and watch every second of Spock's life and still prompt him for more. The effort that comes in directing the meld is enormous but, for the sake of getting to where he wants to be, Jim tries.
He strips the images, the sounds, the shapes until there's a way to sink beneath it all, ignoring the hazy world that contains them.
Inhaling an exhale not his own, passing it back.
His forehead rests against another in real time. He smiles as he settles somewhere in Spock and sloughs off the things that have built Jim from the inside-out until they look like lights in an ocean look where we are with the dark waves lapping all around, hemming in a sanctuary private and perfect. He can't tell where he ends and Spock begins, open spaces.
no subject
He strips the images, the sounds, the shapes until there's a way to sink beneath it all, ignoring the hazy world that contains them.
Inhaling an exhale not his own, passing it back.
His forehead rests against another in real time. He smiles as he settles somewhere in Spock and sloughs off the things that have built Jim from the inside-out until they look like lights in an ocean look where we are with the dark waves lapping all around, hemming in a sanctuary private and perfect. He can't tell where he ends and Spock begins, open spaces.
This is beautiful. ]