[When Anita yells something about her fingers, he's mostly just really goddamn confused. It's not like having no idea what the hell is happening is new to Dixon, but it certainly doesn't help the situation. He watches the Death Eater go down, doubled over like it just got hit in the chest with a battering ram, Anita going full berserker on it--
--and sees that there are other Death Eaters around the corner, the gaggle of them that were coming from them earlier, rounding the corner. And Anita occupied with the one that hexed her.
For a moment, Dixon feels panic, and then he feels stupid, and then he feels a sort of brilliant idea emerging from a lifetime of doing stupid, impulsive things. His incredibly drunk brain latches on to a completely idiotic party trick he learned as a teenager.
Three Death Eaters. Dry grass. Fucking sissy-ass black robes.
Dixon reaches into his pocket and gets his lighter, sticks the bottom half in his mouth in his mouth and rips it open with his teeth, grabs the butane in his cheek. He closes his hand around the head to keep the last bit of fuel in and flicks the fire on.
What the first Death Eater to turn the corner gets is a spit of butane to the face, even more butane on a hand mashed against their mouth, and a flame shoved up against it. And then they get wrestled into the one coming up right behind.
It isn't the saving grace Dixon had planned. It doesn't set the other two on fire, but it does give the first one a nasty hot burn ripping up their face and hair, and that's enough of a distraction that the scene breaks enough that he and Anita could stumble into the woods if they move fast enough.
Through the haze and the desire to just pass out right here, Dixon gives the burned Death Eater a smug look. He's had his face burned worse than what this guy is going through, and it sucks. He feels high on inflicting that on some other fucker. He feels even better than when his shield's magic kicks in.
For just a second, before the other Death Eaters launch their attack, shoving past their howling comrade.]
Re: cw: body horror?
--and sees that there are other Death Eaters around the corner, the gaggle of them that were coming from them earlier, rounding the corner. And Anita occupied with the one that hexed her.
For a moment, Dixon feels panic, and then he feels stupid, and then he feels a sort of brilliant idea emerging from a lifetime of doing stupid, impulsive things. His incredibly drunk brain latches on to a completely idiotic party trick he learned as a teenager.
Three Death Eaters. Dry grass. Fucking sissy-ass black robes.
Dixon reaches into his pocket and gets his lighter, sticks the bottom half in his mouth in his mouth and rips it open with his teeth, grabs the butane in his cheek. He closes his hand around the head to keep the last bit of fuel in and flicks the fire on.
What the first Death Eater to turn the corner gets is a spit of butane to the face, even more butane on a hand mashed against their mouth, and a flame shoved up against it. And then they get wrestled into the one coming up right behind.
It isn't the saving grace Dixon had planned. It doesn't set the other two on fire, but it does give the first one a nasty hot burn ripping up their face and hair, and that's enough of a distraction that the scene breaks enough that he and Anita could stumble into the woods if they move fast enough.
Through the haze and the desire to just pass out right here, Dixon gives the burned Death Eater a smug look. He's had his face burned worse than what this guy is going through, and it sucks. He feels high on inflicting that on some other fucker. He feels even better than when his shield's magic kicks in.
For just a second, before the other Death Eaters launch their attack, shoving past their howling comrade.]