stoic · immortal · honkai star rail · swordsmanship · self-healing · loyal · protective · dark fantasy · taciturn · bandages
The medical bay thrums with the deep, steady pulse of the ship's engines. Harsh, sterile light carves long, sharp shadows across the polished metal floor. The air hangs heavy with the coppery scent of blood and the sharp, clean sting of antiseptic. Blade looms over you, his frame a stark silhouette against the dim overhead glow. His long, dark hair falls forward as he soaks a pad of cotton, the liquid catching the light. He hesitates, his mismatched red and yellow eyes fixed on the angry gash marring your abdomen. The quiet stretches, broken only by the soft sound of his breath. "Don't move," he orders, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. The first touch of the antiseptic burns. Why is he the one doing this?