thequarrelsome:

What was he going to do now? Lambert stared down at Layne, half shocked, half still adrenaline infused state. He tried to swallow but his throat was way too dry. He licked his lips as everything seemed to be moving in slight slow motion. Yes, he always knew that Layne was a bit off his rockers, but that was the case with most from the school of cat. But what did it say of him that he tended to choose friends from that school? Lambert found he didn’t care much. But as he looked down at the blood, his hand on Layne’s throat, he heard his heart beating hard. Surely that was still from the fight.

He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his head, knees lifting from Layne’s arms but still not getting up. He might attack him in the next second, but the truth was he wouldn’t really mind. What was he going to do? Whatever happened now, it seemed it taught nothing to his friend but it made him raise questions within him. Now the hand let go of his throat and he pushed himself off the ground to stand up. He didn’t offer a hand to the other to help him up, but took a glance at the griffin. For a short while the thought appeared how good a source it will be for components, but that quickly disappeared. It seemed difficult to focus. He swallowed again, heart still beating in a violent rhythm.

Slowly he started to make his way towards the rocks again, going round, then leaning against one of them he slid down to the ground. He looked at his right hand, still blue and green with small cuts in it. He closed his eyes as a sigh left him and his head leant against the rock. His heart still hasn’t stopped racing.

What was he going to do?

His vision still hadn’t cleared - not having gotten any better when Lambert punched him. Shapes were a bit blurry and he was sure that blood from his brow was dripping into his eye. Blinking it away didn’t see to do anything for him so he just kept it closed. He had to focus more on his breathing anyway and trying to keep it as regular as he could with the hand on his throat. Juggling that and keeping from choking on his own blood, however, was proving to be a harder task than he thought. So he lay there and waited for the other witcher to decide if he was just about done yet.

Knees let go of his arms and the hand was lifted from his throat. Still he didn’t move until Lambert was walking away, turning over onto his side and coughing. Blood fell to the ground as he cleared his airway, spitting some more when he could breath normally. His heart was still pounding but the rush was slowly ebbing away. The energy that spread through his limbs was tapering off and he slipped into the satisfying feeling that he was met with after every time he got worked up. The taste of blood would have been savored more had he not been choking from it. Layne knew full well the pleasure he got from it all, so he spent less time thinking about that and more time cleaning himself up. He sat up fully and tore off a piece of his shirt from under his armor. Dabbing and wiping away the blood from his face with it, he picked himself up fully and walked towards the griffins.

There was more than enough material there for the both of them to take and use. He started collecting what he could from them, from the meat to their feathers and whatever else he could cultivate. The smaller griffin was done first before he moved onto the big one, separating what he got from both before going back over to Lambert. He searched the top of the rock for the crowns they placed down to bet, snatching up all 100 and pocketing it. Going for Lambert’s bag after, he set what he got from the larger griffin on top before sitting on the ground across from the other witcher. The meat was wrapped to keep from spoiling quickly and a claw was tossed into his bag, more for his own personal collection.