[And he doesn't stop, drawing back to kick again and again, and only when his breath is hard and ragged from exertion does Griffith slow enough to recognise what he's done. What he's done and what he hasn't, because blood is still oozing over the split remains of Xian's lip, the body before him is still twitching in the spattered dirt, and suddenly quite suddenly Griffith doesn't even know if the man is alive or dead.
That, more than anything, recalls him to reality in a sickening rush of dread. He wants to run. He has to run, anyone could be closing in, but-- he swears, he swears Xian coughs, a strangled choke of sputtering blood, and Griffith kicks again though his legs feel hollow beneath him.]
Just die! Die, just die, please...! [His own voice is cracking raw and still far too loud, and he doesn't stop until there's nothing left of his teammate's face but caved bloody ruin and then he runs; from the threat of those who'd end him, and from the horror of what he's leaving behind.]
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That, more than anything, recalls him to reality in a sickening rush of dread. He wants to run. He has to run, anyone could be closing in, but-- he swears, he swears Xian coughs, a strangled choke of sputtering blood, and Griffith kicks again though his legs feel hollow beneath him.]
Just die! Die, just die, please...! [His own voice is cracking raw and still far too loud, and he doesn't stop until there's nothing left of his teammate's face but caved bloody ruin and then he runs; from the threat of those who'd end him, and from the horror of what he's leaving behind.]