Hmm. Maybe you should’ve waited for Rhys’ mother to come back home, so she could help you with the bandages. But right now, you try not to think about the mess you’re making - you try to concentrate on Azriel, who’s quietly sitting in front of you, letting you do your work. He was a bit hesitant at first, after you told him about your ability to take half of someone’s pain (and feel it too, but you didn’t told him that), but after half an hour of you begging him, he finally lets you help him with his scarred hands. Surely, it’s a weird sight: An eleven year old Illyrian boy and an eight year old high fae, sitting in the middle of the floor, white bandages laying all around them. But you can feel your powers starting to work, you can see your hands slowly starting to glow golden as you keep them softly pressed against Azriels’. After what feels like an eternity of numb pain that flows from his body into yours, you hear him sigh softly and then whisper: “Thank you.”