[Dixon's world seems to take a second to catch up when he turns his head to watch Ronan's patronus collapse in on itself. The magic that was only recently coursing through him has left him heady and slow, and the skin around his hands is starting to redden and peel back like the world's worst sunburn.
He sees Ronan crumple on himself from the corner of his eye and whirls around. It doesn't take a rocket genius to realize that whatever's happening to Ronan, it's got him in a state unable to combat the coming sprawl of Dementors and Nazgul.
Dixon feels those cold hands on his heart, the Dementors drawing close and eating away all the good memories - the car he got when he was sixteen, the Dixie Chicks concert he went to with his dad in Topeka, the times his momma put mint leaves from the backyard in the lemonade shakes - but some part of him has been ready for it. He's been stewing in misery a little while; this is like accidentally stepping off the curb when you think you were on flat ground, not like tumbling off a cliff. A stutter instead of a collapse.
On some level, he can put together what's happening to Ronan, all the bad memories hitting like a truck.]
Fuck me.
[He throws himself on top of Ronan, taking them both to the ground in the hopes that the Dementors will just stampede over them in their scurry away from the Nazgul. He doubts Ronan's going to recover well from the world's worst trip down Memory Lane pinned to the ground under a drunk guy with a heavy metal shield, but the alternatives seem thin on the ground.
The Dementors do trample over them, as much as levitating ghosts can bear down on someone, but the Nazgul is more focused in its target. It comes for Ronan, the more incapacitated of the two at the moment. Dixon gets onto a moment to react, shielding Ronan with his body.
He activates the shield a moment too late, and the swirl of pearly magic takes away the pain of the Nazgul blade sinking into his back, but not the blow itself.]
Son of a bitch- [The Nazgul pulls the knife back- a thin arc of blood flings out across the battlefield from the tip of the blade. Dixon tries to shove both himself and Ronan back, earning a little space between them and the enemy. He bats Ronan in the face.]
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He sees Ronan crumple on himself from the corner of his eye and whirls around. It doesn't take a rocket genius to realize that whatever's happening to Ronan, it's got him in a state unable to combat the coming sprawl of Dementors and Nazgul.
Dixon feels those cold hands on his heart, the Dementors drawing close and eating away all the good memories - the car he got when he was sixteen, the Dixie Chicks concert he went to with his dad in Topeka, the times his momma put mint leaves from the backyard in the lemonade shakes - but some part of him has been ready for it. He's been stewing in misery a little while; this is like accidentally stepping off the curb when you think you were on flat ground, not like tumbling off a cliff. A stutter instead of a collapse.
On some level, he can put together what's happening to Ronan, all the bad memories hitting like a truck.]
Fuck me.
[He throws himself on top of Ronan, taking them both to the ground in the hopes that the Dementors will just stampede over them in their scurry away from the Nazgul. He doubts Ronan's going to recover well from the world's worst trip down Memory Lane pinned to the ground under a drunk guy with a heavy metal shield, but the alternatives seem thin on the ground.
The Dementors do trample over them, as much as levitating ghosts can bear down on someone, but the Nazgul is more focused in its target. It comes for Ronan, the more incapacitated of the two at the moment. Dixon gets onto a moment to react, shielding Ronan with his body.
He activates the shield a moment too late, and the swirl of pearly magic takes away the pain of the Nazgul blade sinking into his back, but not the blow itself.]
Son of a bitch- [The Nazgul pulls the knife back- a thin arc of blood flings out across the battlefield from the tip of the blade. Dixon tries to shove both himself and Ronan back, earning a little space between them and the enemy. He bats Ronan in the face.]
Hey, shithead, snap out of it! I need you!