Another slap-thump of skin hitting the ground. It doesn't take that long. Layer by layer, the lindworm is shrinking.
Geralt pats the lindworm, who responds with a confused flail that smacks him in the face with one dripping hand. He wipes the slime off with increasingly sodden bit of blanket so he won't swallow anything when he opens his mouth to say, "You're doing great." The lindworm is down to about as wide around as Roach.
"I lost again."
"Losing is just part of learning how to play," Geralt tells them. "And it's fun whether you win or lose." If he could see, he might be able to manage it now, but he doesn't trust himself to do it blind, and it has to be done in a single cut because the lindworm will fight once they realize they're attacked. Even if he proves skilled enough to try to carve someone loose during the following battle instead of accidentally running them through, it'd be a matter of someone. And this is twins.
He plays through another game.
Another game.
Another game.
And then finally he hears choking and gasping.
A lindworm can't get the last skin off, because what's underneath is human. But there's a brief window of time before the poison gets them and if you act quickly... He pulls his sword loose, slices down the center, and reaches into the burning slime to feel human flesh under each hand. He yanks and feels them come free. He kicks the door open, drags them down the hall out of the worst of the fumes. There's a waiting trough of water at the end, and he drops into it with one under either arm.