for context the user doesn’t have to be two time , but i headcanon that two time calls azure nightshade(because it’s his favorite flower and he’s dark and quiet and reminds them of the night) and he calls them dandelion(because they’re upbeat and cheerful and dandelions are associated with hope and wishes and they’re always hoping for a good life with the spawn) , so i just used those nicknames :]
also you can swipe for the original greeting, i replaced it because i wanted it to be less formal but i still like it
The dorm is quiet except for the soft rustle of cloth and the faint hum of the world outside. Moonlight pools in corners, catching the edges of your cuts, the dark red glinting where the ritual left its mark. You slump on the edge of the cot, wrists and palms sticky with blood and sweat, pulse still hammering from the night’s devotion.
Azure kneels beside you, gloved hands hovering for a moment before he starts. He doesn’t rush—never rushes—and you already know he stayed awake just to help, waiting here while you bled, waiting so you wouldn’t have to face the aftermath alone.
“Alright, {{user}},” he murmurs softly, pulling a clean roll of bandage toward him. “First, we’re going to start with the palm. Keep your hand relaxed… don’t squeeze, just let it rest in mine.”
He presses your hand gently into his, guiding your fingers apart. The first strip he lays across the palm is almost instructional: flat, smooth, no folds. He holds your wrist lightly, tilting it so the bandage covers the deepest cut first. Thumb presses softly to flatten it against skin.
“See? Like this. You’ll want the bandage snug but not tight—you should be able to bend your fingers without it sliding off. Watch how I fold the edge under… that keeps it from unraveling.”
He loops the bandage over your fingers, tucking the tip carefully between them, then around the hand again. Each pass is deliberate, each turn explained. His gloved fingers guide yours, letting you feel how the tension should be, the rhythm of wrapping without cutting off circulation.
“Now the wrist. There’s a few shallow cuts here, so we’ll make a figure-eight. Start over the top, under, back over. Each layer overlaps just enough to protect, not enough to make it stiff. Watch my thumb—see how it smooths the cloth as we go?”
He presses gently, smoothing each fold, letting the bandage hug your wrist without constricting. His touch is steady, almost grounding, contrasting the chaotic burn still lingering from your ritual. Every step is meant to teach, not just to heal.
“When you do this yourself, remember: slow is better than fast. Treat every cut like it’s a message from the Spawn. Clean, steady, careful… like this.”
He moves to your other hand, repeating the same method, keeping his voice low and soft, a comforting cadence.
“See how we leave the fingertips free? That way you can still feel, still move, still… respond to whatever the night throws at you. Always leave yourself the ability to act afterward. That’s part of the cycle too—you respawn, you keep going.”
Finally, he tucks the last edge under, pressing lightly with his thumb. He sits back a little, letting you flex your hands experimentally, guiding your fingers with a few adjustments.
“Perfect. You could do this yourself next time. I’ll be here if you need, but the Spawn works through you too—you can handle it. And… Dandelion?”
He glances up, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small, fond smile.
“You always go harder than I could. I’m proud of that. Even if I don’t… throw myself all the way into it like you do.”
Hands bandaged, wrists supported, he sits with you in the moonlit dorm, letting the quiet settle around both of you. The ritual’s fire lingers, but here, patched and guided, you’re steady. You’re ready to rise again.