[ It should be him doing the reassuring. Mace is the one who just nearly-- he's the one who went through the traumatic experience, he's the one shivering beyond all reason, he's the one with a deep purple necklace marring him all the way around. Instead, he's cracking apart a little at the seams and Mace is one again stepping up to the plate to be caretaker.
Come on, Fowler. Just get your shit together for a while and carry them. ]
Yeah. Yeah--
[ He breathes, and it's followed immediately by steering Mace over toward the wall where their torch burns on. He pulls them both down, but doesn't let Mace hit the stone floor. He's guided instead onto Ian's lap with no quarter for protesting if he's got any plans of it.
He folds himself around Mace's back. Wraps both arms around his middle, pulls him in deep enough that he can even settle his chin on the blanket over Mace's shoulder. The heat coming off the torch should help a little too, though Ian's soaking wet clothes and still-dripping hair probably counterbalance the scales.
He's going to have to make them both something dry. Another blanket, too, probably. Maybe even wood for a goddamn fire, because he can't... imagine them going anywhere. Can't imagine pushing on for a while, not until they're both recovered enough to fucking function and Mace's core temperature gets up to something safe again.
It's okay, though, because the threat feels gone. It feels like it all came to a head, it ruptured, it burned itself out in an inferno that nearly consumed them - but purified itself in the process, at least for a little while.
There's still the matter of... those chains, the sound of them, what might be carrying them, whether or not that's still around. Fuck it, though. He doesn't have enough space for that right now. All he can think of, all he can manage, is to hang on tightly to the man he's practically wrapped himself around. ]
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Come on, Fowler. Just get your shit together for a while and carry them. ]
Yeah. Yeah--
[ He breathes, and it's followed immediately by steering Mace over toward the wall where their torch burns on. He pulls them both down, but doesn't let Mace hit the stone floor. He's guided instead onto Ian's lap with no quarter for protesting if he's got any plans of it.
He folds himself around Mace's back. Wraps both arms around his middle, pulls him in deep enough that he can even settle his chin on the blanket over Mace's shoulder. The heat coming off the torch should help a little too, though Ian's soaking wet clothes and still-dripping hair probably counterbalance the scales.
He's going to have to make them both something dry. Another blanket, too, probably. Maybe even wood for a goddamn fire, because he can't... imagine them going anywhere. Can't imagine pushing on for a while, not until they're both recovered enough to fucking function and Mace's core temperature gets up to something safe again.
It's okay, though, because the threat feels gone. It feels like it all came to a head, it ruptured, it burned itself out in an inferno that nearly consumed them - but purified itself in the process, at least for a little while.
There's still the matter of... those chains, the sound of them, what might be carrying them, whether or not that's still around. Fuck it, though. He doesn't have enough space for that right now. All he can think of, all he can manage, is to hang on tightly to the man he's practically wrapped himself around. ]