Jim can't do anything the sedate way, Stratos thinks, watching him take a running start to the climb. No wonder Felix gets worried. He's watching closely himself, the start of his spell readied in his hand for any sign that Jim's about to tumble. Around them the half-buried ruins echo with the chirps and trills of the forest. There's little wind down here: the trees are too dense to allow it through. It makes the air feel a little unnervingly oppressive to Stratos. He's used to the mountainsides and valleys of the north. Here he's already sweating uncomfortably.

He frowns and almost calls up after Jim, but just about catches the small buzz from his pocket as Jim messages him. It's a little unsettling, still: he's half waiting to hear the yelp and and crash as Jim misses his footing out of the mage's sight. When he sees Jim lean out and wave, he heaves a quiet sigh of relief.

Not that he doubts the captain, exactly, but it would be just some kind of fate for one of the betrothed couple to break his legs ahead of a wedding, wouldn't it?

Stratos waves in answer, and then aims his spell at the rope instead. The faint glow that accompanies it is entirely lost in the bright sunlight, but the coils lift into the air and float smoothly up to Jim, following Stratos's gesture. So far, so good.