[ His peripheral vision picks it up, though his singularly devoted mind refuses to properly look or dwell on it - the way Mace's face is beginning to change color, an uncomfortable shade of puce visible even in the dark. The way blood vessels are starting to burst in his eyes with the buildup of pressure. The fucking expression on his face. He can't look or think, there is only act.
It's to the tune of a thousand people laughing at max volume. Rattling the portcullis and the walls, maybe, or that might just be Ian's vision swimming in and out with the adrenaline and terror.
Blood wisps through the water at Mace's hand like a silk scarf, and he can't see that either. He can only slam onlimb into the water to bob up while the other tugs the knife indelicately from Mace's grip - probably pulling the wound a little deeper in the process. He tugs them both wildly forth until he can wedge a foot into one of the gate's gaps for leverage. He Mace in by the chest, then shifts his grip to Mace's hair, to deliberately wrest his head forward as far as the rope will allow. ]
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, here we go, it's the only way —
[ To do it in time. He slips the blade underneath the rope - except that it's pulled so taut it's nearly embedded into Mace's skin, and so another sharp line slits through flesh in the process. A gash, deep and immediately bleeding, ignored in favor of roughly and violently slicing through the rope in two inelegant motions. The alternative would've been to saw at it from the exterior, but not only would it mean a dozen fillets across skin, the kind of force application required would take too long. The strength of his bicep and the sharpness of the knife make pull-tension the most efficient option. It works quickly, severing rope but at the expense of a few more cuts into the back of Mace's neck when he has to press the knife back up again.
Once it's gone, he discards the knife without a second fucking thought to grab at the rope, to rip it down and away until it isn't fucking touching him anymore. Both it and the knife hit the riverbed beneath them somewhere. He doesn't give a shit. All he cares about is dragging Mace in back-first into his chest so he can forcefully keep him up, keep his chin out of the water so he doesn't suck any down when he-- ]
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It's to the tune of a thousand people laughing at max volume. Rattling the portcullis and the walls, maybe, or that might just be Ian's vision swimming in and out with the adrenaline and terror.
Blood wisps through the water at Mace's hand like a silk scarf, and he can't see that either. He can only slam onlimb into the water to bob up while the other tugs the knife indelicately from Mace's grip - probably pulling the wound a little deeper in the process. He tugs them both wildly forth until he can wedge a foot into one of the gate's gaps for leverage. He Mace in by the chest, then shifts his grip to Mace's hair, to deliberately wrest his head forward as far as the rope will allow. ]
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, here we go, it's the only way —
[ To do it in time. He slips the blade underneath the rope - except that it's pulled so taut it's nearly embedded into Mace's skin, and so another sharp line slits through flesh in the process. A gash, deep and immediately bleeding, ignored in favor of roughly and violently slicing through the rope in two inelegant motions. The alternative would've been to saw at it from the exterior, but not only would it mean a dozen fillets across skin, the kind of force application required would take too long. The strength of his bicep and the sharpness of the knife make pull-tension the most efficient option. It works quickly, severing rope but at the expense of a few more cuts into the back of Mace's neck when he has to press the knife back up again.
Once it's gone, he discards the knife without a second fucking thought to grab at the rope, to rip it down and away until it isn't fucking touching him anymore. Both it and the knife hit the riverbed beneath them somewhere. He doesn't give a shit. All he cares about is dragging Mace in back-first into his chest so he can forcefully keep him up, keep his chin out of the water so he doesn't suck any down when he-- ]
Breathe for me, baby, come on-