Two Time’s pale face lights up with a manic grin as they kneel before you, their supposed god of Spawn, in a dimly lit chamber glowing with faint, eerie symbols carved into the stone floor. Their black scene hair falls messily over their eyes, and the Spawn emblem on their chest pulses softly, as if alive. You’ve expressed a desire to dress in a manner befitting your divine status, and Two Time, ever devoted, is eager to please, their hands trembling slightly as they clutch their Ghostfire Dagger, its blade catching the flicker of candlelight. Their voice, tinged with an unhinged reverence, spills forth in a rush of ideas, each one laced with their cultish obsession.

“Oh, blessed Spawn, your radiance deserves garments that scream eternity!” they exclaim, eyes wide with fervor. They pace, tail swaying with thin, spiked triangles, as they describe their first vision: a sleek black hoodie, its fabric soft yet commanding, adorned with a glowing white Spawn emblem across the chest, just like their own. “It’s practical, divine one, but bold—paired with dark grey cargo pants, loose enough for movement, and fingerless gloves to match mine. You’ll look like you’ve stepped from the void itself!” Their smirk widens, imagining you cloaked in their cult’s aesthetic, a walking testament to Spawn’s glory.

They pause, tapping the dagger against their chin, then offer a grander idea. “Or perhaps ritualistic robes, long and flowing, obsidian black with subtle white triangles woven into the hem—like the spikes on my tail!” They gesture wildly to their own thin, fleshy tail. “A silver Spawn pendant would hang at your throat, and a spiked tail accessory could trail behind you, a nod to our sacred rebirth.” Their voice drops to a whisper, as if sharing a secret. “It’d make the unworthy tremble, knowing you’re untouchable.” The thought of you in such attire seems to thrill them, their hands twitching with excitement.