*He knew it'd all go out like this, some day. That's the one thought that cuts through the blinding grief, and the dizzy haze of blood loss, and the adrenaline flooding what's left in his system. Any illusions, any jokes about seeing Molly's kids grow up and being a little old lecherous man and wearing obnoxiously bright colors at age 150 just because he can - it was all only just talk, because Fabian's always known it'd go out like this.
The curse hits him in a wide arc, slashing deeply through his right arm and his mangled chest, and there's a fresh gush of blood down his arm and a funny lack of feeling anything from the bicep down. He sees rather than feels himself drop his wand; it's like a puppet whose strings have been cut, the way his hand's gone totally limp and lifeless, all that work to regain use of it after Greyback completely undone and then some. His vision darkens at the edges and blurs, and the floor rushes up to catch him as he falls to his knees. Clammy, pale - dying, he supposes, but then wasn't that always going to be the case some day? - Fabian looks up at the woman and focuses with some difficulty, still defiant, his grey face daring her to finish it if she can. He's cold, and he can feel the little mechanical horror still on him, working its way closer and too close to his belly but the pain isn't cutting through anymore, it's like things have gone too sluggish to let it in, and maybe it's better that way.
Still, as he slumps to the floor, and coughs up scarlet, he reaches for his wand on instinct and training with his left hand.*
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Date: 2011-10-11 03:33 pm (UTC)The curse hits him in a wide arc, slashing deeply through his right arm and his mangled chest, and there's a fresh gush of blood down his arm and a funny lack of feeling anything from the bicep down. He sees rather than feels himself drop his wand; it's like a puppet whose strings have been cut, the way his hand's gone totally limp and lifeless, all that work to regain use of it after Greyback completely undone and then some. His vision darkens at the edges and blurs, and the floor rushes up to catch him as he falls to his knees. Clammy, pale - dying, he supposes, but then wasn't that always going to be the case some day? - Fabian looks up at the woman and focuses with some difficulty, still defiant, his grey face daring her to finish it if she can. He's cold, and he can feel the little mechanical horror still on him, working its way closer and too close to his belly but the pain isn't cutting through anymore, it's like things have gone too sluggish to let it in, and maybe it's better that way.
Still, as he slumps to the floor, and coughs up scarlet, he reaches for his wand on instinct and training with his left hand.*