[ It’s okay, Ian says, and his breath is warm and soft against Mace’s ear; the shock ebbs away at that, and Mace relaxes muscles he hadn’t even realized he was starting to tense, turning his face back into Ian’s shoulder with a wordless, hoarse sound. A new wariness wells up inside him, despite the way Ian's arm stays dark and blessedly non-blue. Only one reason the river would stop like that, or at least only one logical reason that Mace can think of right now.
There has to be a dam, somewhere along the direction of its flow, before it reached the cave system. Could be miles away from here, some reservoir in the distance, and whoever’s operating it might be on an alternating schedule — which gives them a window of time to see if they can find a way out.
Because they can’t stay here. And they can’t go back, or at least, there’d be no point to it — nothing behind them but the dark tunnels, a smashed corpse, and something lurking in the tunnels that sounded like it was the size of a fucking studio apartment.
Nowhere to go but forward, which meant. ]
Gotta pull it.
[ Raw and unsteady, because for some reason his throat hurts more now that the initial shock has worn off, something half-apologetic in his voice, half-resigned. And fuck it, but they’d put in the work, right? Getting the rope there, he’d almost gotten himself necked and worse than that, he could've gotten Ian hurt in the process — might as well make use of it, too.
Unless there's another idea, another option, and Mace frowns as his chill-addled mind tried to think its way out. The ends of the portcullis had been wedged into the riverbed, and he could — if Ian could make him a shovel, he could dig underneath it, try and lift it up.
Before he suggests that, though. Mace tilts his head up just a little, his eyes soft as they seek out Ian’s face, the cold tip of his nose grazing the line of Ian's jaw. ]
Thank you.
[ For jumping in after him like that. For holding him close, bearing his weight against the stone. For not letting go. ]
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There has to be a dam, somewhere along the direction of its flow, before it reached the cave system. Could be miles away from here, some reservoir in the distance, and whoever’s operating it might be on an alternating schedule — which gives them a window of time to see if they can find a way out.
Because they can’t stay here. And they can’t go back, or at least, there’d be no point to it — nothing behind them but the dark tunnels, a smashed corpse, and something lurking in the tunnels that sounded like it was the size of a fucking studio apartment.
Nowhere to go but forward, which meant. ]
Gotta pull it.
[ Raw and unsteady, because for some reason his throat hurts more now that the initial shock has worn off, something half-apologetic in his voice, half-resigned. And fuck it, but they’d put in the work, right? Getting the rope there, he’d almost gotten himself necked and worse than that, he could've gotten Ian hurt in the process — might as well make use of it, too.
Unless there's another idea, another option, and Mace frowns as his chill-addled mind tried to think its way out. The ends of the portcullis had been wedged into the riverbed, and he could — if Ian could make him a shovel, he could dig underneath it, try and lift it up.
Before he suggests that, though. Mace tilts his head up just a little, his eyes soft as they seek out Ian’s face, the cold tip of his nose grazing the line of Ian's jaw. ]
Thank you.
[ For jumping in after him like that. For holding him close, bearing his weight against the stone. For not letting go. ]